Count. Lucky. Stars

Early this month, sometime in the single digits like the 6th or 7th of December we'll say, I was hanging out with a friend at her brand spanking new condo in a real up and coming trendy gentrified neighbourhood of the city. We were having our usual laughs, catch-up convos and good eats when she sheepishly admits to me that she had completely devoured every last chocolate from behind all the wee window boxes on her advent calendar for this year. I thought it was hilarious: in a gluttonous, enjoyable, no shame kinda admittance way. What resonated with me more however when I really thought about it on my ride home was that she found such joy in putting her life together in this fantastic neighbourhood, enjoying the great and little things. Just a handful of years ago she was an unfortunate passenger in a terrible car accident. I remember seeing her earlier that fateful day and saying our goodbyes, her walking off with a giant artist portfolio bag in hand on the way to an elective art class. Mere hours later of course hearing about the accident that all but disfigured her entire right arm and played havoc on other parts of her body, I can remember how empathetic I felt cause she loved her ability to draw and paint; and she is right handed. She was the only one hurt. Alcohol was involved. It's all so frustrating...countless surgeries later, an upcoming wedding that eventually didn't last; but now a woman who has persevered and is moving on. Enjoying life's positive offerings. Splendid. Happenstance, Wrong-place-wrong-time, Coincidence, Luck, Serendipity. Phrases and words we use to either mask or put on a pedestal; crap and glory in life. It's always annoyed me when someone declares upon hearing bad news such as a diagnosis or hardship...'Well at least it could be worse, you/we could be in a --insert bad space here-- like --insert so and so's name here--'. How incredibly selfish to be glad that you're not quite a the bottom of the food chain, barrel, totem pole etc; but another is. Wow. I present to you, a mask. Sucky things happen, work it out. Just today I was at the local gym on the treadmill and caught quite the sight. This particular part of the facility has the machines facing outward one storey up and through picture windows the world can be watched going by. Do I not see Mr. Man, middle aged with a silver short trimmed beard, wearing a black trench and cowboy hat, pipe hanging out the side of his mouth...wait for it...rollerblading. His inline skates were taking him likely to a happy place on this, the day after Christmas on a brisk but clear afternoon. He enjoyed life. Great and little things. Guaranteed. The irony is that fatty here was huffing and puffing away trying to keep up with a giant rubber revolving elastic band under his feet cause since May the freshman fifteen has appeared attaching itself ever so slyly. And university was something like thirteen years ago. Chuh. About the number 13...I understand folks are superstitious and such, but what I've never understood is why house numbers and apartment buildings avoid the number like small pox, leprosy and the plague all rolled into one nifty little cocktail. Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. A friend of mine does actually live at house number 13 and she does very well in life. She's healthy, has a beautiful young family, and their house has recently been turned into a gorgeous 'monster home' as they like to call them in the city. No triskaidekaphobia for her. I must admit however that when on said treadmill earlier, whenever I'm changing up my inclines and speeds for interval training I generally avoid doing so anytime during the thirteenth minute cause I think it will mean my workout may be torched somehow and almost always set big goals for the 18th minute cause it's my favourite number. Guilty. However, it's always reigned true that buildings which rise higher than 12 floors conveniently ignore announcing the presence of the next sequential number in the progression. So, if you are on floor 14...bad news bears. No wait, here in the North end of Toronto there is a very heavy Asian influence, so many new condos also don't have floors with any mention of the dreaded number 4. So...we skip 4 and 14, then that means...Oh God I'm already lost on who gets the short straw and is actually the 13th floor up. It still exists people, we just mask it with another number. Like 15 maybe? Good Luck to y'all. Or bad luck, as Mr. Wong would have you believe. Either way, enjoy everything. Wherever your stars are aligned and whatever comes along your path. Smile

Toodles