Friday, November 19, 2010

Lucky Day

Yesterday was supposed to be the best day of my life.  Astrologically speaking, all of my proverbial stars were supposed to be aligned.  Yes, November 18, 2010 was meant to be a banner day for Pisces folks, particularly those of us born 5 days before and 5 days after March 4.

I wouldn't say that I took this news seriously, exactly, but it did amuse me.  I joked about buying a lottery ticket but, of course, I didn't.  My husband (also a Pisces) and I texted and IM-ed all day, asking each other if our lives had changed yet.  I kept checking my email, assuming that some big publisher probably sent me a message, asking if I'd like a big huge book deal.

I told my mother about the super cosmic event and she mused that I'd probably be really sad if something didn't occur.  I assured her that I'm such a pessimist that if nothing happens on my lucky day, I will surmise that I would have been hit by a bus but my luck was so great that it caused me to walk a different direction or the bus driver to stop texting, thus avoiding my untimely demise.  Not dying = lucky day.  Right?

I called my friend Rox (also a Pisces) and told her to expect something good.  We both felt particularly great so we figured maybe there was something to it.  Then, she revealed that her husband had suddenly gotten two tickets for the Cowboys game on Sunday.  The weather is good, they have a new coach and they're playing Detroit.  Dallas might actually win and my pals will be there in great seats!  Certainly that counts as luck!

Last night, after admitting that absolutely nothing special  happened to me, I thought back on my day.  At the gym that morning, my favorite elliptical machine was available.  When I put a quarter in a parking meter, it gave me two hours instead of fifteen minutes.  There was no line at my usually packed Coffee Bean.  Surely the work of the cosmos!

After a day full of expecting life-changing news, I couldn't sleep and I began thinking about what sudden riches or fame would actually mean for me.   Growing up in Texas, where everyone had a giant casa and a giant truck, I could easily imagine that a life of luxury would include limousines and helicopter pads and personal chefs.  Lamborghinis.  The idea of fortune was clearly outlined for me.  But, after living in Los Angeles for over a decade, my version of "rich" has changed.  The lines are blurred.  Wealthy people here live in houses smaller than the one I grew up in.  Fancy pads in LA simply have yards and are located in a hot neighborhood.  The only limousines you see other than on awards nights are rented by bachelorettes or UCLA frat boys.  Drive through a wealthy LA neighborhood and you'll see Priuses, not sports cars.

My champagne wishes, LA-style would include a house with a yard instead of a condo, in either Venice or the Hollywood Hills.  As I struggled for sleep, I tried to come up with anything else I would want.  Here was my huge revelation.  If I were rich, if money was abundant, I would get:  (drum roll) a maid.  Maybe a personal trainer if I were getting crazy.  And that's it.  The longer I rolled it over in my brain, the more I realized I could probably get those things now if I budgeted correctly; that luck and fortune are really subjective, that the whole idea of caviar dreams is an elusive, watery concept.

Please feel free to flip off your computer screen (go ahead, I'd do it to you) but I'm gonna say it anyway.  Everyday is your lucky day.  So, shut up and enjoy it.

*Photo by Remko van Dokkum.