Lucky Me!

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It’s Friday the 13th! oh, sorry. Does that conjure up images of black cats and broken mirrors? Or, worse yet, Jason skulking through the woods in a hockey mask? Not for me. 13 is actually a lucky number for me (particularly in Vegas, but I’m not going to tell you my secret.) I don’t know why it has such a bad rap. So, I checked into it. And IMHO, I think poor ol’ 13 is not deserving of the disdain.

First, there’s the math/numerology reasoning. Good ol’ 12 is considered to be the representation of perfection and completion. I don’t even know what that means (have I ever told you, I’m not a numbers person?) But, supposedly, adding a digit and improving on perfection is greedy and will be rewarded with bad luck. Whatever. There were 13 people at the Last Supper. Judas (the man who betrayed Jesus) was the 13th. There is also a similar Norse legend involving the uninvited god, Loki as the 13th guest at a dinner, resulting in basically the eradication of everything on earth and in the heavens. Historically, there was a mass arrest and execution of the Knights Templar (remember the Da Vinci Code?) on Friday the 13th in 1307. 13 witches in a coven. 13 steps leading up to the gallows. Blah, blah, blah.

I guess it’s good that some people are afraid of the number 13, so I can throw around words like, “triskaidekaphobia.” And, what about a baker’s dozen? Ya’ gotta’ love an extra baked good, right? So, you can cower in your corner all day. I’m going to find a black cat and take a walk under a ladder…

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