Datebook: Thursday, January 25th ~ 2007

Here is the thing with good luck charms (as previously discussed during Lake Placid), they probably have an expiration date or a shelf life. Unfortunately, there are no reminder notices sent out or notices that upgrades are needed or available.

Several years ago, my daughter found a tiny die (one of a pair of dice). Looking at it now, that doesn’t seem the type of word that would really bring good luck and fortune, but when you get these signs you just go with it. Anyway, it was cute, miniscule, and we marveled at it and then threw it in the cup holder of the minivan, where it lived for months, unnoticed and unloved. Some time later, we went to Indianapolis for the summer dance competition. It was a beautiful location—ice rink attached to the mall---a young girl’s dream, but there was horrible weather—tornadoes all around the city. Our luggage did not arrive on the plane due to the turmoil with flights being diverted.

So here is how this comes back to the die.

We took my husband’s car to the airport so our luggage was never in the minivan. When the luggage was delivered to the hotel, the bell captain brought it to our room and placed it on our bed (I know, you don’t get service like that everyday!). We returned (from the mall) joyous to find our clothes—these were the days when you could carry your skates on board the plane. After unpacking, I picked up the suitcase and guess what was on the bed?

Seriously, this was like finding a burnt etching of the Virgin Mary on your toast.


The die.


Goosebumps time.


Yes, it was.


Impossible as it was.


True, I have always hoped to have a miracle or impossibility bestowed on me in other ways, like winning the MegaMillions, or being able to sing like Whitney Houston (pre Bobby Brown days), but we don’t get to pick apparently.

So there it was, this tiny little orange die.

And so we have kept this as our good luck symbol.

But, we expanded like people who collect spoons or magnets from the states they visit. I bought other die, and dice. I have a die necklace. My daughter has a die necklace (that she doesn’t wear of course). We have purchased other little dice, and large dice sets.

At any competition, I could supply some serious material for alley or hallway craps.

I didn’t realize that I had perhaps gone overboard until yesterday. I handed out small colored die to several other people connected to my daughter and partner. They humored me by accepting them, but looked a bit worried, like maybe I wanted them to swallow them, when I just said, “you have to keep them close to your heart. I keep mine in my bra.”

And I do. I didn’t receive instructions on this, like with the candles and cinnamon, but it seems a logical assumption.

Hours after the competition, as a group of us were walking back to the hotel from the bus stop, I commented on the die’s seemingly weakened power.

“Perhaps you need to upgrade lucky charms, like cars. Maybe we need to find a sign each year, or each level. I’ve been using these since they were at juvenile.”

With this I pulled the two die from my bra, one was a tiny, blue cube, the other was the size of a quarter—all sides.

For some reason this was funny to my companions and they preceded to laugh and fall in the snow. The fact that I was willing to go the distance for my team and suffer a possible permanent indentation on my chest should have been applauded.

But as I held the warm squares in my hand I had an epiphany.

“Oh my God,” I said, “I had the wrong numbers facing up!”

Mombo