Today is Julie and Beezer’s wedding day. I wish them many blessings, well wishes, and congratulations. I know the bride will look stunning, the groom handsome, and the whole day will be memorable for all involved. C.K. and I are thinking of them today. We wanted to go to the wedding, but alas we are here in LaLa Land.

Random–I heard on the radio yesterday that 8/8/08 is a lucky day to be married. Yes, it’s a cool date — basically 8-8-8–but lucky. I didn’t think that 8 was a particularly lucky number. Truth be told, I think the whole lucky number thing is voodoo. In my family, 13 is our “lucky” number. 13 is just about the unluckiest number there is. For example, my aunt is 13 years younger than my father, I’m 13 years younger than my aunt, her first daughter is 13 years younger than me, and if C.K. have a child in the coming year, our child will be 13 years younger than my aunt’s first daughter. Whoa, that was a hard sentence to follow. And not that obeying the number 13 is a reason to start a family.

This begets a discussion on the subject of luck. A discussion I’m certainly not equipped to dive into now. I’m only halfway through my cup of coffee this morning.

Oh, and just a thought… The only thing lucky about getting married on 8/8/08 is that your spouse will always remember your anniversary. And if he/she can’t remember three of the same number, I think you should question whether or not you really want to marry that person. Think of all the future problems–the forgotten luggage codes, the forgotten birthdays,