I am really into signs. Good and bad omens. Frankly, almost anything can be a harbinger of what's to come. My mother and grandmother share this unshakable belief in signs. I think its the benevolent Puerto Rican witch in each of us. And perhaps a failure to excel in science and statistics.
This morning, I was driving to a job site just across the border in Wisconsin. The day was going well enough, sunny and clear, and I was very close to being on time. In the right lane, there was a truck with a four-leaf clover logo - a shamrock, if you will - and the name "Luckey Transfer." Now, the name alone seems like good luck, right? Literally. But there's more.
A) The shamrock refers to our St. Patrick's Day retrieval.
B) "Lucky" is the name that J and I keep using to refer to our someday baby. J says, quite morbidly, that he will be lucky to be alive. I prefer not to think like that. Also note that J refers to our hopeful future child as "he." I've been coming back to Lucky because of how lucky we'll be to have a child. That's much sweeter.
That has insanely-good-omen written all over it. Luckey Transfer and our lucky transfer is tentatively tomorrow (assuming we go for the 3-day embryo transfer, standard at my doctor's office). Minutes later a truck passed that said "Mills Transfer" on it. That is not an omen at all. Simply a truck.
On my way back from Wisconsin, I listened to a podcast of "Here's the Thing" with Alec Baldwin. His Guest? Quarterback Andrew Luck. I understand that's not quite the dancing leprechaun that the truck was but it can't be overlooked either.
This post alone could have me committed. Or at least my meds increased.