The Almighty 3

pi7 copyThe power of 3.

Somewhere in our superstitious past, humans have transformed the lowly number 3 into a prophecy laden with mystery. “It happens in 3‘s”  is a phrase that has been linked to doom and destruction, to delight and daydreams. Random occurrences in nature suddenly have become gospel for everything from death to weather trends.

We devote a lot of energy to 3: 3 Stooges, 3 piece suit, 3 little pigs, 3 in the holy trinity, 3 ring notebook, 3 french hens.  It’s like 3 is conveniently small enough to be able to lump random acts into some semblance of fortune telling.

Now, there are perfectly good “other” numbers out there we can utilize. How about 4? There are 4 seasons, 4 suits of cards, 4 states of matter, 4 calling birds.  Or 7? (another man-made mystical number). There are 7 deadly sins, 7 days a week (except for the Beatles), 7 chakras, 7 layer salad, 7 swans a swimming. Or how about 246? 49? 15? (those are probably too long to spit out…)

Numbers are just that. Numbers. It takes a human mind to figure out there is some greater meaning in them.

Which brings me to today’s blog.
I am thinking about falling for that 3 “thing”.

Yesterday one of 3 dogs pooped on the bedroom side of the bedroom door. Then the washing machine took a dump, spilling water all down the hallway, dripping through the floor to downstairs. That’s 2.

Is there a time limit for 3‘s? I mean, do they follow each other hour-to-hour, day-to-day, week-to-week? I know there was a lot of brouhaha when David Bowie, Glen Frey, and Alan Rickman died one right after the other, although the truth was that is was really 8 days between the 3.

Back to my personal dilemma. Closer to home. Is there still doom for me on the horizon? Do I have to wait in purgatory for the proverbial “other shoe” to drop? Won’t 2 messes do?

I’ve got magical numbers for everything. 2’s: number of times I was in the hospital repairing son number 2; number of cats I own; number of running cars we have at one time. 5’s: age of my grandson; place settings at the table; number of pets I have (for now). Or how about 35? Number of year’s I’ve been married; number of unicorns and dragons in the stuffed animal basket. Or 8: my birthday is on the 8th, I’ve lived in 8 houses in my life; I ate 8 crackers with my cottage cheese at lunch.

See how silly numbers are? You can make them into anything you want. You can pick out a random order in anything, and make it fit what is going on with you at the moment.

If the other shoe is going to drop, it’s going to drop. No matter if there is one space or five spaces left in the sequence.

Maybe my number should be Pi — according to one website, there are 2,000,000,000,000,000+ numbers in one number…and they’re still working on it…

Get Past the Black Cat Thing

black-cat-946162872Let’s get this out of the way first.

I know this doesn’t apply to my readers, but get the message out:


Now that that’s over…

All Hallow’s Eve.

That magical time of the year that embraces too much candy, Midwest rain, and follow-up visits to the dentist. How can you not love a day like that?

According to, Halloween’s origins date back to the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain (pronounced sow-in). The Celts, who lived 2,000 years ago in the area that is now Ireland, the United Kingdom and northern France, celebrated their new year on November 1. This day marked the end of summer and the harvest and the beginning of the dark, cold winter, a time of year that was often associated with human death.

Okay, I see where the death part comes in. Cold weather, not much fire, working in the fields 18 hours a day — not a happy recipe for long life.

But then empty heads turned to black cats and witches and things they couldn’t explain. Black cats used to rule. They were held in high esteem in early Egyptian times, dating back as far as 3000 BC. I mean, who doesn’t know Bastet? bastet_statue

It wasn’t until  the middle-ages in Europe that the black cat’s rock star status started to go downhill as they began to be associated with so-called witches. The hysteria of witches practicing black magic had just hit Europe and alley cats were often cared for and fed by the poor lonely old ladies (funny how some things never change) later accused of witchery.

So all this nonsense of sacrificing black cats and dark magic and hibbery jibbery came from the fear of cat ladies. Can you imagine? Imagination is one thing, nonsense is another.

I say let’s take this ghostly, spooky, totally Americanized holiday and bring it back to its ancient roots in Egypt. You don’t have to like cats to respect them. Worship you cat. At least let him sit and type with you on your laptop. Embrace the millennium in which you exist and embrace life. Get rid of the fear of the hokus pokus associated with this really delightful celebration of candy and pumpkin pie and the Monster Mash. And knock the nonsense out of anyone who says different.

They say the border between worlds is thinnest at Samhain. I’m going to go out and check the communication between worlds tomorrow night.  Who knows? Maybe my mom will stop by. Or dad. Or my dog Rennie.  Maybe I can catch up on the gossip from the other side. Who’s hanging with who. Who’s doing the Irish Jig on the table and who’s sleeping under it. Who’s got the best bonies in the neighborhood. Which cat is hangin’ with which dog.

There’s always a story somewhere. Whether you’re looking for it or not, it’s there, waiting for you.  Find one this Halloween. Write it. Live it. Sing it.

Who knows — maybe your black cat will sing with you!