Bouncing bundles of arachnijoy

It's my lucky day. Whenever Friday collides with the number thirteen, I know I can expect blue skies, perfectly brewed coffee, and as many chocolate donuts as I can stuff in my mouth without blowing my cheek gaskets. On this particular day, my joy is further bloated by the tiny bundles of octal joy in the nursery outside the patio door. Am I beside myself, or what?

But high up on the mountain, when the wind is hitting it . . . I might also point out another high point of the day, which involves the teetering chunk of granite on the hillside above this place. On any other day, I know the eroding forces of Mother Nature and bad luck could come together, resulting in a rather rude awakeningif only for an instantas the monolith passes through my bedroom on its way to Kansas. But this is, as I mentioned, my lucky day.

Maybe, like me, you've already reconsidered your own position on the number thirteen, and My lucky numberFridays, and their relationship in the larger context of serendipity, and perhaps the grandeur of the thing has already blown your so-called mind. If so, you've probably also come to grips with the evil of Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday, especially when those days fall on any date containing the number two. It's a problem.

But not today. Today is my lucky day, and it could be your lucky day, too. At least until midnight.