Sunday, October 4, 2015

A Helping of Randomness

Oops, I did it again.
Hubby (helping unpack my recent bounty from Super Target):  "Don't we already have a brand-new jar of ______?"

Me:  "Well, yes.  But I went to count the number of items in the cart, and there were 6.  So I had to grab something else."

Knowing there's little likelihood I'll be changing my spots anytime soon, he probably figured rolling his eyes wasn't worth the effort.

Really, I've never considered myself superstitious.
Except for the number 6.  Particularly in thrice.  
(... See, I can't bring myself to even type it here!)

Once I threw away a $2-off coupon because it's identifying redemption code began with a triple-six.  
Only the other day I noted someone at my workplace drives an (otherwise innocuous) sedan whose license tag bears three 6's.    I've considering lingering, to see to whom it might belong.
Then again, what would that accomplish?  It's not like I'm going to jump out and examine their scalp for miniature horns.  

Seriously, I wonder if some folks don't 'get' the significance.  Or probably, they don't give it a second thought.

It might be urban legend, but I recall hearing of an unlikely lottery winner in Florida.  Although she'd never before purchased a lottery ticket, when the cashier announced her total (yes, you guessed it) she panicked and blurted, "Give me a lottery ticket ... that number must change."

Personally I find him a little annoying, but mimicking ABC's John Quinones, "What would YOU do?"!

* * *

Speaking of the Lottery .....
Friend Jack at the Ship's Log told a cute story about a man beseeching the good Lord for favor. Whereupon the Lord looked down and said, "Help me out here ... buy a ticket!"

Like Jack, I love to daydream.   Except my fantasies have realigned themselves so often the Lord's probably just shaking His head.       

Because I've worked outside the home for so long now - and forgot to craft a life - the prospect of retirement is scary.   So, methinks I'd like to purchase a little business and continue working ... but the first thing on my must-have list would be a PRIVATE 'executive washroom.'   It's been over 20 years since I used to sub for the President's secretary at the TV station ... but I've not outgrown my awe at his private, black-marbled potty room.   
I guess, it's true what they say, Rank Hath Its Privilege.    
Or my favorite, Little Things Mean a Lot.  

* * *

Finally, another contribution to 
Ye Olde Generation Gap:

Helping facilitate another team-building exercise and armed with 'fun size' chocolate bars, I began to narrate "Who Said That?" -- random facts submitted by management and associates alike.   

Color me astonished.  
After reading Diana's card, "I once got a job as a Playboy bunny", folks began calling out names of their MALE co-workers.   
I don't think there was a soul in the room who knew what a Playboy bunny was!

Another slice of my youth gone by the by when I wasn't looking.
Don't blink!

Hugs from Phoenix,