Friday the 13th

My rational self insists that there's no reason to succumb to superstition, but with most things I manage to stomp that sanity right out. I flip pennies to the heads side before I pick them up, I toss spilt salt over my shoulder (just in case). But there are some things that just don't seem to bother me. Black cats, for instance, don't seem particularly ominous. The number 13, and Friday the 13th specifically, doesn't bother me at all.

Two of my husband's friends got married yesterday. Apparently co workers gave my husband a funny look when he said he'd have to leave early to go to a wedding - like, 'who would get married on Friday the 13th.' I get the superstitious state of mind in general, but just don't see the unluckiness of 13.

Anyway, the wedding was very nice. It was in their yard, and they set the whole thing up really well. The table settings were each a different Victorian looking terrarium surrounded by pillar candle holders wrapped in gauze and adorned with tiny safety pins. Very pretty. I got to see my good friend who just returned from Habitat for Humanities-type trip to Kenya. She & the organization she's involved with helped improve a school there and worked with the students as well. She brought her camera and showed me some of the most incredible shots of the animals and the people she met. I think it's great that she did that, and I like to think that I'm a semi good person, but I can never see myself doing something like that. I don't even know all the reasons why.