Day Nine: The Farmer's Luck. From 'Zen Shorts'

When we were dating, SB came to work to visit me and brought me a picture book.  This one:

I think it is a very clever and cute book.  One little 'lesson' in it goes with my count down.  So here it is:

There was once an old farmer who had worked his crops for many years. One day, his horse ran away.

Upon hearing this, his neighbors came to visit.  "Such bad luck" they said, sympathetically.

"Maybe," the farmer replied.

The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it two other wild horses.

"Such good luck!" the neighbors explained.

"Maybe," replied the farmer.

The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown off, and broke his leg.  Again, the neighbors came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune. 

"Such bad luck," they said.

"Maybe," answered the farmer.

The day after that military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army to fight in a war.  Seeing that the son's leg was broken, they passed him by.

"Such good luck!" cried the neighbors.

"Maybe," said the farmer.

"I get it," said Michael.  "Maybe good luck and bad luck are all mixed up.  You never know what will happen next."

"Yes," Stillwater agreed.  "You never know."

That's all.  Who knows if I'm lucky or not.  But good luck/bad luck to you anyhow. 

Day 8. Still Lucky.

This is me and the little brother at K. Malone's, aka the Mailman's, basketball camp.  

Never was there a happier little 5th grader.  I went a whole year without candy to earn the right to go to this big event in my life.  

The camp actually isn't the lucky part of this post.  Though I felt pretty lucky seems as though I was 100% convinced I was Karl's betrothed, and though you can't see it- he's got his arm around me... I really believed we were more than just friends the day this picture was taken.  You'll note I did my hair in curls just for Mr. Malone, even though I was sweating and trying to show off my mad b-ball skills to the all-star NBA pro. 

When I went back to school after that summer, I even turned in my papers in school as "Leslie Jean Malone."  My 'reflections' contest entry was "If I had a dream... I'd be the first woman in the NBA" and it was a picture of me in a Jazz jersey center court of the then Salt Palace-- wearing none other than number thirty-two.  Being the man's biggest fan I ought to have known they were going to retire that number, but it's still my favorite number.  Unfortunately for me, Miss Idaho ruined everything.  

I know plenty of other people don't have all the nicest things to say about Karl Malone sometimes.  But true love does not die easy, and I think he really was my first true love.  Thankfully SB isn't the jealous type, so when we celebrated his thirty-second birthday a few years back he graciously let me call it his Karl Malone birthday and we celebrated in Utah Jazz style.  This year is my Karl Malone birthday.  I've been waiting for this moment since I was ten.  22 years is a long time coming, but bring on 2011.  I hope I have plenty of opportunities to tell people how old I am... and even more so to write it down.  32.  It just feels good to me.

And on to what makes me so lucky.  My big uncle Mike took me to one of my first games around this time when I was in my KM glory days.  You can bet that I was DECKED. OUT. when I arrived downtown.  Karl Malone (signed) shirt.  Jazz shorts.  Jazz socks.  Malone L.A. Gear shoes.  Wrist bands. Sweatband. Jazz Earrings (so cool, thanks Mom), Jazz Scrunchie ( and equally as cool, thanks again Mom).  I wished I had some way of bringing the 12 Jazz and Karl Malone posters that decorated the walls of my room to prove to Karl I was his meant-to-be... but I gave it my best.  They gave me a temporary tattoo when we got there.  I instantly put it on my cheek.  Then the program man asked if we wanted a program.  Big, intimidating, Uncle Mike said of course we did.  And the man winked as he handed it over to us and said: "I think there is something inside your magazine."

Sure enough.  A letter for a chance to win a gift certificate if we'd come down at half-time and shoot a free-throw. Mike made me do it.  I'd only played basketball a year.  I was terrified.  I had never played in front of this many thousands.  But twenty-five dollars to the Pro Image sportswear shop was on the line.  That might as well have been the lottery to a 10 year old in 1990.  I couldn't even enjoy the game or Karl.  All I could think about was my first chance to prove I was going to be in the NBA someday.  

Halftime finally came.  15 of us from the crowd came down to shoot our shots.  We got a t-shirt just for trying.  It was huge, but I put it on.  I did whatever they told me, I couldn't even think straight.  I was up next. They let me move up a little closer to the basket.  They asked me if I wanted lifted up in the air.  I thought to myself  "I've only ever shot a basketball from the ground, better stick to what I know."  Nope, I don't want lifted up, I told the guy.  

They handed me the ball.  I don't know what happened next.  The only thing I remember is a lot of cheers and the ball going in.  I won!  I won the $25 gift certificate! I was RICH!  I was LOADED!  I was going to get more Karl Malone posters and paraphernalia for my room!

And so I did.  And felt as lucky as a 10 year old with a crush on Karl could. 

Lucky Number 7: L.A. With Hay Hay

Hailey gets what Hailey wants.

A lucky post about her.   And our trip to L.A.

Top 10 Luckiest things about Los Angeles 2004.

10.  Hola! Mickey Mouse.
9. Meeting Arnauld: the free park hopper passes/ free front of line passes/ free t-shirts
8. Finally finding the orange bus.
7. Meeting Darryl's furious lover and meeting Mr. Finder's Keepers.
6. Good sheets.
5. Meeting Darryl: Love is a dirty game.  Be careful how you play the game of love.
4. Not getting killed by the asbestos in our hotel room.
3. Not getting killed in the Jewelry District.
2. Not getting killed on public transport.
1. Not getting killed by the drunk driver who hit us.

Ultimate lucky thing about the trip?  Meeting crazies & living to tell about it.

Love my Hailey.  Love my luck with my Hailey.  If I run out of lucky things, becoming members of the 40 and using ding dongs to pay our way out of the parking lot is in the wings of the St. Paddy's countdown.

Drunky taking our pic in the J.D.

Santa Monica

Sweet Sweet Arnauld.

The Lucky Streak: Days 4, 5 & 6

If you thought I ran out of luck stories, you were wrong.  Just out of time.  So today it's 3-in-1. 

Utah State was good to me.  I loved it.  Go Aggies all the way.  Some of the best friends I've ever known = Ags. 

And some of the greatest luck found me at USU.  SB & I were only there one semester together which is the unluckiest part, but in looking through pictures for this blog post we discovered we really must of known each other-- and even had a conversation way back in the day.  He's not convinced of it, but I am.  Regardless, it seems to have worked out for us.  But I wish he could have been witness to these 3 lucky things in Logan:

Let's Make a Deal ... Senior Year, I don't have the Freshman Year Pictures.

#1.  Let's make a deal.   Freshman year.  Called for 5 volunteers for a pie eating contest.  4 boys and me were selected.  One cream pie in front of each of us.  No hands allowed.  Faces only.  On your mark, get set, go....  And the winner is.... the girl..   Yep, me.   And for it I got to choose curtain one, two, or three.  I don't know what number I chose, but it was lucky.  Because unlike the people who won frogs and rubber chickens, I won a brand new stereo system.  The pie part was pure talent.  But the picking part was a little bit of luck. 

Roommates & I -- not as lucky this year as my first year-- still as much fun, though.

#2. Spelling Bee.  9th place.  Out of the University Academic Week Spelling Bee.  Hundreds entered.  10 made it on stage for the finals.  All 10 won prizes.  I was one of them.  It was lucky.  Seriously.  I mean I am not a spelling idiot, but I rely pretty heavily on wavy red lines under words to know if I spelled it right or not.  But while those around me were getting words like bivouacking, I had to spell business.  The word that put me into the final 10 was receipt.  The person that got out before me had something more along the lines of onomatopoeia.  I had no intentions of even entering the spelling bee.  I think I did it on a dare.  Next thing I knew I was as nervous as a cow at a beef factory standing on stage with people clearly having more intent to win than me.  We drew numbers to see what order we would go in.  I took ninth because somewhere in the first round someone ahead of me misspelled a word before I ever even went.  As I started spelling my final word I felt my face go bright red.  With every letter I said my voice went up in pitch.  I was literally squealing by the time I completed my version of how to spell the word.  Wrong answer.  I was out.  I don't know why I got so nervous for something 45 minutes earlier I wasn't even planning on doing.  But I think it is NOTHING but luck that I took ninth place.

Utah State, hey!  Aggies all the Way... Go Aggies, Go Aggies...

#3.  The Price is Right.  Showcase show-down winner.  So it wasn't with the real Bob Barker, but at the Institute of Religion there were some thousand some-odd people (maybe that's more than were really there, I don't know) but never the less.  My name was picked.  I went through the bidding, the games, the whole deal--- and on to the show down.  And I won.  It was all very lucky.  Probably would have scored some bigger prizes in California at the true P.I.R.   But I got a date night with free passes to dinner, bowling and a dessert, if I recall.  And it was pretty lucky.  I did date 'Bob' for a short stint and everybody wanted to chalk it up to that.  But we very definitely weren't dating when I won-- and he very definitely did not have anything to do with my pure luck.  True story.

Lucky Me Day Three: Stating the Obvious.

Lucky:

Lucky:

Lucky:

me.

Winner Winner, Chicken Dinner... Lots of Luck Day #2

A little over a year ago SB & I went to Chick-fil-a via the drive through and ordered a peppermint shake.  (Amongst other things, I am sure) ... We enjoyed it top to bottom... but as we neared the nethermost depths of the ice cream treat-- the part where you might find larger chunks of candy cane and tip the cup to get it all in one mouthful,  we found our lucky surprise.

I wish I had a picture.

I don't even know what to call the surprise besides a "big chunk of shake-machine parts."  A rubbery tip and a hard/plastic-y tube thing, all full of peppermint pieces.

We were home by this point and it was late and we weren't going back.  Besides, the shake was gone, so we weren't about to demand a new one.  But I kept the 'part'- I don't even know what the 'part' did, but I have to think if the car behind us at the drive-through ordered a peppermint malt to-go, the Chick-fil-a employee had to realize a 1-inch X 3-inch piece of the machine was gone.

We left it in the console of our car.  For weeks and weeks.  I never thought about it until I was driving and would look down and see it.  I intended on giving it back to rightful owner-- I just don't frequent the restaurant.

But a couple of months later I finally went back.  And I remembered to bring the 'part' with me.

I ordered my lunch and a couple of kids meals for the children.  And then I pulled the, you know-- thing-- out of my purse, held it up, and questioned: "have you been missing this...part?"

I think they were embarrassed.  That was not my intent.  But needless to say they gave me my whole lunch free, insisted I order a new shake and then when I was sitting down the manager brought over some passes for 2 more family visits to Chick-fil-a.

Almost as good as a Willy Wonka golden ticket.  Or a cereal sweepstakes box.  "Check this cup to see if you have the missing shake maker part and win 3 free Chicken Dinners for you and your family."

Pretty lucky, right?...

Lucky Me- Day #1

Alright.  I know I am kind of a new blogger and maybe even missed the blogging craze.  I haven't seen a lot of "tagging" or other fun blogger games taking place lately.  But I have blog-stalked enough to know how this all works.  In November you write all month about the things you are thankful for.  In February you do 2 weeks of posts about things you love.  So I suppose in March you give it 17 days of luck.

Or at least that's my plan.

So without further adieu, I am lucky because:

When Matt and I went on our honeymoon our flight got delayed.  Very, very delayed.  By hours.  They ended up asking for volunteers to fly into another airport and get shuttled into San Francisco where we were supposed to be flying.  We volunteered.

Back-tracking.  When I bought the tickets (yes I planned the honeymoon-- don't be mad, it all worked out great as you are about to find out... and with a 3 week engagement you've got to make everything a team effort).... anyhow, when I bought the tickets I put them on my card of choice, which is how I do almost all of my purchasing.  I had forgotten however, that there was an automatic flight insurance plan associated with that card which made each ticket cost thirty dollars more, so the newlyweds were out 60 bucks more than we thought on honeymoon spending money. 

It all seems very UNlucky until we started reaping the benefits of misfortune. 

For volunteering to fly into another airport they gave us each "Delta Dollars."  Meaning we got a free flight somewhere else (Hawaii, as it turns out)... And flight insurance apparently covers flight delays, up to $250 of spending per person, so you can bet we went hog-wild at the airport (had to be spent during the delay) getting portable DVD players and DVDs, Brookstone blankets and pillows.  Food, candy, cookbooks, magazines, other books.  I can't remember all we redeemed, but $500 in goods-- which only cost us a pre-paid $60.

We felt pretty lucky.

And the best part?  Here I am starting a new life with my husband who I know and love, but didn't know and love like I do now.  I didn't feel any awkwardness being with him, but there was definitely still a newness in it.  We're standing in the terminal waiting to get on our waylaid flight.  In the middle of Salt Lake International Airport he just starts stomping.  And mumbling something under his breath.  Stomp, Stomp, Stomp.  Completely puzzled, I asked him what he was doing.  "Counting our Delta Dollars," he replied,  "... you know, like Mr. Ed." 

I don't know which is more fun.  Getting 800 delta dollars, or getting a husband that counts out his luck like a horse.

Hawaii-- Courtesy of Delta Dollars