It’s A Sign
It started just before Christmas.
I was driving home after work, and as I looked in my rear-view mirror. I saw Santa Claus. Actually, I saw a big cardboard cut-out of Santa perched on the chimney of the house behind me.
I wonder how they got that up there? I thought. And I took another look.
And it was gone.
Santa was not there.
The next morning, travelling in the opposite direction, I searched all the houses for that Santa I had seen. But there was no Santa. You’d think if I were going to start imagining things, I’d imagine a real Santa, and not a cardboard cut-out. But oh well. It must have been some optical illusion.
But perhaps a good omen. Santa on the chimney must be good. Right?
And then Christmas Day, I had another strange experience.
I was standing in the center of my den, trying to envision it as my expected company would see it, because sometimes, you know, you just don’t even see a mess that you made yourself. Or perhaps a surprise that a cat left. Anyway, right that moment I smelled my father.
When I was a little kid, my father smelled like cigars and soap and machine oil. It was a really nice smell. Especially now, when I miss him and I am also not standing downwind of an actual cigar.
My father’s scent must be a really good omen. We had a nice Christmas dinner. (and no one stumbled upon any cat puke).
Then the day after Christmas, I had another sign.
Back at work (and no cardboard Santa, although I checked), I log onto the company’s bank to check our balance. The website asks me for my password, and I type in “LUCKY.” I won’t tell you what the password is, but I can assure you that it is not LUCKY. I don’t know what made me type that. Perhaps someone passing by in the hall had been talking about being lucky. It was odd, but I didn’t think too much of it.
But the next day, I did it again. I have never used LUCKY as a password for anything. But perhaps it was in my subconscious from the previous day.
I figured that it was kind of cool to be typing LUCKY automatically. Maybe like a Ouija board, but not effin’ scary.
And today – weeks later – it happened again. I log onto the bank’s website and enter my password as LUCKY.
It’s a sign.
I’ve seen a phantom Santa, I’ve smelled my Dad, and I’ve typed LUCKY several times. I’m lucky!
And sure enough. The sign came true.
At lunchtime I got an email from Lucky Brand Jeans. A sale! 25% off!
I love Lucky jeans.
They fit me great. And they even have a little message on the inside of the zipper. It says, “Lucky You.” My husband says this is for teenage boys who manage to unzip their girlfriends’ jeans. But I think “Lucky You” is meant for me personally.
I click on the email and there they are: the perfect jeans.
Now I have a few pair of Lucky jeans already.
Specifically, I have 10 pair:
- Dark wash skinnies
- Medium wash skinnies
- Light wash crops
- Medium wash straights
- Medium wash bootcuts
- Black bootcuts
- Black skinnies
- Burgundy skinny cords
- Green summer ankle skinnies
- Coral summer ankle skinnies
But on the website they had Light Wash Skinnies. As anyone can see, I could use Light Wash Skinnies. Obviously.
And I got a sign.
And shipping was free!
Lucky Me!
- Posted in: Aging ♦ Fashion ♦ Humor
- Tagged: Aging, good luck, good omens, Humor, luck, Lucky Brand jeans, middle-aged, online shopping
notquiteold 
Omen to that!
LikeLike
😉
LikeLike
Funny thing but I can hear Bill’s tv and the song they are playing is “Luck be a Lady Tonight.” Is this a coincidence or what? Congratulations on the Lucky Jeans and free shipping too. Hope some of that rubs off on your blogger friend here. 🙂
LikeLike
I think that is a sign that you need to buy some jeans!
LikeLike
Loved this! It made me grin ear to ear 🙂
LikeLike
I’m happy if I made you grin.
LikeLike
Jeans that fit by any other name are priceless. Glad you had lots of good omens this past holiday season. What’s next? 🙂
LikeLike
Maybe an omen that instructs me to finish my novel.
LikeLike
You toooo? Well, get to it. It’s 2014 and you w.i.l.l. finish that puppy this year. Right?
LikeLike
Jeans that fit? That’s the dream! 🙂
LikeLike
Truly. Life-affirming.
LikeLike
One can never have enough perfect-fitting jeans (I have yet to find one) – so glad the universe was sending you such fortuitous messages!
LikeLike
Try Lucky Brand in the Sofia cut. Great for women who don’t have bodies like teenagers.
LikeLike
Oh, and I am so glad the universe is not sending me messages to become a nun…
LikeLike
I’ll check it out – thanks!
LikeLike
LOL…cute post! A girl can never have too many good fitting jeans…or fabulous shoes…or fashionable coats. Oh wait, I think that is called a shopping addiction! LOL!
LikeLike
I may have a teensy bit of a shopping addiction when it come to jeans…
LikeLike
no one would ever guessed about your obsession – you are one funny lady
LikeLike
Thanks, I think!
LikeLike
thanks for sure–it was all meant as a compliment
LikeLike
Beautiful!
LikeLike
Thanks!
LikeLike
That is a lot of “skinnies”! It is also a lot of “Lucky”s. I think I would have bought a lottery ticket.
LikeLike
Oh, but I know I am not a lottery-lucky type of person. i think I will have to write about that!
LikeLike
Lucky You!
LikeLike
I sure am! In multiple ways.
LikeLike
I’ve never tried Lucky Jeans. I must say your hubby’s interpretation of the “Lucky You” made me chuckle!
LikeLike
My husband thought I was rather dense that I didn’t think of that interpretation. He thought it was obvious.
LikeLike
As any man would, I suspect!
LikeLike
I have a life size cardboard Marilyn Monroe in my garage, but no Santa.
LikeLike
I think you made the right choice.
LikeLike
I love those kinds of signs. AND there’s always a built in justification (like should you need one for hubby or something) – I had a SIGN. ;o)
LikeLike
Yes, there’s a built-in rationalization that you just can’t deny.
LikeLike
I’m signing up for Lucky Brand emails today!
LikeLike