Friday the 13th

So, today is friday the 13th.

That doesn't mean a whole lot to me. I've never been superstitious. I've walked under plenty of ladders and encountered several black cats on my path, and yet... here I am. Except for an uncommonly annoying amount of sickness this winter, I think my life is really good.

Now, my husband on the other hand, is very superstitious. He'll tell you he's not, but... trust me... he is.

He forbids anyone in the household from eating the ends of the bread. Why?

Him: "Because it will prevent you from growing."

Me: "Um... ok.... What if I don't want to grow anymore?"

Him: "Well, then you can eat it, but I don't want it. And definitely do NOT give it to the kids."

(See what I mean.)

When my son accidentally opened an umbrella in the house when he was four, I truly believed I was witnessing my husband have a heart attack. He was that freaked out.

For me, actually, whenever I hear "friday the 13th" I have good memories. It makes me think about the first horror movie I ever watched which was "Friday the 13th... pt. 2". I was seven years old.

Where were my parents? My mother had no idea. My father was beside me, drinking a cup of coffee, and enjoying the movie.

Although, it completely freaked me out for days, it didn't warp me in any way. I am not saying it was a good idea for a seven-year-old to watch this (Dad -what were you thinking?!), but it did start me down that crazy, creepy road to loving horror movies. I still look forward to watching them (when I can), and I take them for what they are -a good scare in a controlled setting.

You know... I may have to rent a good scary movie tonight...