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Neon orange, the new good luck omen

Submitted by on Thursday, 29 April 2010 No Comment

I should know by now not to let the guys have any say in my makeup – the results usually turn me into a clown or a punk rocker.

For some reason, though, nail polish amuses them immensely. That’s probably because cosmetics and I have only a passing acquaintance these days though I still do my nails once in a while. It’s a small thing, so I indulge them with a variety of outlandish hues. I’ve never figured out if they really like the garish shades or if they just get a kick out of making me look ridiculous.

Now, though, there’s even more reason for them to pay attention to my manicures. Or at least Big Guy thinks there is.

Forget rabbit’s feet as lucky charms. Big Guy believes it’s all about lady fingers. Specifically, mine.

It started last night, when I wore orange – yes, orange – nail polish to his karate class. As pure coincidence than has nothing to do with mysterious powers in manicures, Big Guy earned his second orange stripe.

“That’s funny,” I said, which was a huge mistake. “Your stripe is the same color as my polish.”

His eyes lit up like he’d found the Rosetta Stone of the sporting world. “Wow. It must be good luck.”

Silly boy. Don’t you know the only place you’ll find lucky charms is in the cereal aisle.

I thought he’d let it go when it he didn’t mention it again that evening. Silly girl. At bedtime, the time he always bares his soul, it boom-a-ranged.

“Mommy, why don’t you ever wish me good luck?” he asked.

“Because I don’t really believe all that much in luck. Luck means maybe it’ll happen, maybe it won’t. You have a better chance of making something happen if you work at it.”

“You mean, like practice?”

“Yes, practice.”

“I am practicing. But could you wish me good luck when I take my belt test?”

“I suppose I can. But I’ll also tell you to do your best and keep trying hard.”

“OK. And can you wear orange nails?”


The funny thing is, I bought the orange to begin with to coordinate with his baseball uniform. Let’s not tell him that, though. I’d prefer he refine one sports superstition before moving on to the next.

Copyright 2010 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

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