Lucky number, uh, nine?

This is what happens when you have a cat in the house, and you bring out the box to pack up Christmas decorations, and then turn your back for a few seconds:



I guess we don’t usually have very many boxes lying around, because this is probably the first time I’ve ever gotten a picture of Allegro hanging out in a box. Whereas mom has about a thousand pictures of Kiko and Ozzie in various boxes – even boxes that are obviously too small to hold their furry little feline forms. Kiko and Ozzie have never had a problem with cramming themselves into tiny spaces – anything new and out-of-the-ordinary is fair game.

The new year not only means boxing up holiday decorations, but it also signals the impending approach of another fantasy baseball season. This afternoon, some of the guys in the league drew names to determine draft position – meaning who, among the ten of us, will choose first, second, etc in the fantasy baseball draft. Last year I was fourth… this year I’m ninth. I wasn’t sure that was such a good place to be, until Rick informed me that everyone, for some reason, considers seventh place to be the “cursed” position. Apparently seventh place in the draft translates to seventh place at the end of the season… or eighth… or ninth. At least that’s the superstition.

And actually, that’s rather strange – because wasn’t I just talking about how superstition doesn’t really mean much? Seven years of bad luck when you break a mirror… seventh place in the draft results in a bad season… And did I mention that my parents brought back lava rock from Hawaii when we were there in November? (That was a strange segue… but as long as I’m talking about superstitions…) In case anyone hasn’t heard that particular superstition, removing lava rocks from Hawaii is supposed to result in bad luck. Pele (or Pete, as the case may be) gets very angry when you disturb her lava. People believe so strongly in this superstition that many tourists actually send lava rocks BACK to the islands after they’ve returned home. People get sick, or lose money in the stock market, or total their car when they accidentally flip it in the driveway… and instead of attributing it to coincidence (which is generally what happens in life…) they look at that lava rock sitting on their curio shelf and think they’ve been cursed by the fire goddess of Hawaii. So the rock is sent back, the curse is lifted, and from there on out, all the illnesses and natural disasters that strike are simply the work of fate. And somehow that makes them less noticeable and obvious and overwhelming… “Fate” is okay… cursed lava rocks are not…

My point is, I’m not going to spend too much time worrying about where I’m drafting. Much of baseball – just like much of life – is lots of luck and coincidence. Although finishing in second place last year didn’t leave me much room for improvement. I might need some EXTRA luck. I wish I hadn’t broken those two mirrors…