Enunciate the love

Bubby has no problem showing his best bud Ro-Ro how much he loves him!I recently read "Just Let Me Lie Down: Necessary Terms For The Half-Insane Working Mom" by Kristin van Ogtrop, which I received free for participation in the SV Moms Group Book Club. (SV Moms Group is the umbrella group under which I write for the Rocky Mountain Moms Group occasionally.)

Kristin van Ogtrop is the editor of Real Simple magazine, which means she's a high-power working gal. In her book, she has lots to say about balancing work and life issues, or at least coming to terms with the fact that balance is an elusive thing for most working mothers. A lot of what she has to say is interesting, most of it's witty, tiny bits of it left me scratching my head.

One tiny bit that stood out as a head-scratcher for me is a comment van Ogtrop made about saying "I love you." The context is that it's a chapter in which she talks about the strangeness of realizing she may possibly love a coworker. Love as in motherly love, friendly love, not some sordid office romance type of love. First she confesses, "I am not a big 'I love you' person," then a few paragraphs later she says this:

"Many people who rise to leadership positions do so in part because they can control their emotions (see Emotional tourniquet, p. 63). Sometimes I think the only reason I have been hired to run a magazine is because I'm able to remember to keep a box of tissues in my office and I can usually remain dry-eyed while others around me burst into tears. I'm sure there are individuals I work with who pity my children, raised as they are by a woman who appears to have no emotions but the occasional flash of anger. To those colleagues: I assure you, I do tell my children and my husband that I love them. At least every once in a while."

It's those last couple sentences that caught my attention. I'm sure van Ogtrop isn't dead serious about the "every once in a while" part, but it made me consider how often the "I love you"s are thrown around in my family.

I come from a family where "I love you" was rarely said; my dad still says it only in third person ("Your dad loves ya"). I wanted things to be different in the family Jim and I created, and it is. We say "I love you" all the time, possibly so often that it has lost its oomph.

It started off when the girls were little that after bedtime prayers there'd be "Goodnight, I love you." Then, when they left the house it'd be "Have fun. Be safe. I love you!" Now it's the last thing we say at the end of telephone calls: "I love you. Bye!"

Even Bubby -- who, as a typical 22-month-old, still has a relatively limited word reportoire -- has learned the phrase. As we wrapped up our most recent Skyping conversation, he said "Bye!" followed by a mumbled "ahwhuhwhoo." Translation from Megan: "That's his 'I love you.'"

"Ahwhuhwhoo"s notwithstanding, most of our family phone calls are now end with what sounds much like "love-ya-bye!" as we all lead busy lives and rush to get off the phone so we can move along to the other dire matters that fill our days.

And I don't like that. Sure, the sentiment is still there, but this is an instance in which it's not just the thought that counts. It's the saying it like you mean it that counts.

So going forward (gotta love that corporate phrase left over from corporate days) I plan to enunciate, to say it like I mean it. Because I do mean it. More than anything else in my life. I love my girls, my husband, my Bubby.

And my readers.

I love you!

Bye!

Extra special bonus because I love you guys: I received two copies of "Just Let Me Lie Down" by Kristin van Ogtrop to give away. Enter to win one in the Back Room.

Today's question:

In an average day, how many times do you say "I love you"?

My answer: Probably five or six times.

Signs, signs, everywhere signs

My little GeminiRaise your hand if you're worried about the astrological sign under which your grandchild was born. Okay, since not everyone who visits Grandma's Briefs is a grandparent, what about those of you with children ... does your child's astrological sign make any difference to you?

By the lack of hands I see waving in the air, I'll have to assume I'm weird. I'm weird because when Megan was pregnant, I did worry about the sign under which Bubby would be born.

Well, I suppose worry isn't the correct word. I wouldn't put it in the category of my worries about his and Megan's health and welfare during and after the pregnancy. It's more like I was concerned ... and a little bummed ... and a little hopeful that Bubby would arrive a few days late just to bump him into the next sign.

Because, you see, Bubby's a Gemini and -- I apologize if this offends anyone -- I've never gotten along well with Geminis. I'm a Cancer, the sign right next door to Gemini, the one I was hoping Bubby would hold out for.

Long, long ago, for my 16th birthday to be exact, my mom bought me Linda Goodman's "Sun Signs." Like most teen girls, I was quite interested in astrological signs and how well my friends, enemies and potential beaus matched up with the traits ascribed to their signs. Most of the time, Ms. Goodman was correct -- and seemingly continues to be correct -- in her assertions. Jim (Pisces), Brianna (Leo), Megan (Sagittarius) and Andrea (Cancer) fit the descriptions to a T.

And I, a Cancer, completely and totally fit the description: I'm quiet, moody, retreat to my shell when I sense danger, artistic (in writing, nothing else really), fiercely dedicated to hearth and home.

Then there's the Geminis, of which I've met plenty: talkative, active, impulsive, fleeting, and -- the one trait I've seen quite often in the Geminis I know -- someone who lies about anything and everything embellishes their tales, usually for no clear reason at all.

Suffice it to say, I didn't want Bubby to be a Gemini. But he is. So I recently reviewed -- in the very same copy my mom gifted me decades ago -- the traits under Ms. Goodman's title "The Gemini Child" and found a few interesting tidbits. Right off the bat was a mention that parents should seriously consider using one of those animal-like harnesses for their Gemini child because he'll be all over the place in public and difficult to keep safe. Funny thing is that when Megan was planning the recent trip she and Bubby made to visit us in the mountains, she actually mentioned considering getting one, just to be safe. She ended up not getting one, mostly because Bubby's quite timid and stays right by her side no matter where they go. (Bonus point for Bubby as that's a Cancer trait.)

Another trait Ms. Goodman mentions is that Geminis often are ambidextrous. This is interesting because Bubby favors using his left hand for nearly everything, always has. But there's no one else in his immediate family that's left-handed. The closest leftie is Nick, my nephew and Megan's cousin (is that Bubby's second cousin?). Get this: Nick is a Gemini! Like Nick, Bubby uses his right hand occasionally, but chooses the left nine times out of 10.

Another trait of the Gemini child is "there's usually a marked ability to mimic others." This I find amusing because for a while there I worried that Bubby would never speak normal words -- only because he was mimicking the gibberish in which his mom and dad spoke to him. For some unknown reason, Megan and Preston related to their little one by making him grin and giggle in response to their wacky sounds (which usually sounded much like the "ca-CAAH" goofiness from the goofy guy in the movie "Evolution"). Bubby loved those silly sounds ... and mimicked them to no end.

What I found most interesting about the Gemini traits Goodman lists, though, is that other than the two above, Bubby fits very few of them. But when I flip forward a few pages and read about "The Cancer Child," he hits quite a few right on the head: "His emotions are rich, colorful and varied." "They're funny little creatures with droll expressions and eyes that almost talk by themselves." "You may wish you could predict when he's going to get ... that faraway look in his eye as he listens to the curious music every Moon child hears." "He can get mighty weepy when he's ignored or treated harshly."

If you ask me, I think the doctor may have been a little off in the due date he gave Megan because it seems more and more that Bubby was destined to be a Cancer, not a Gemini. Which is great! Maybe he can overcome any of the negative Gemini traits he may have inherited due to an early arrival. (Again, my apologies to any Gemini readers -- it's nothing personal!)

Although, as all mothers and grandmothers know, no matter what he is, no matter what traits he possesses, I will truly love him with all my heart, all my soul, always and forever.

But let me just say right now that if Bubby ever grows up to be a big ol' liar/embellisher, this Cancer Grandma will surely be having some mighty serious words with that Gemini child!

Today's question:

What sign are you and do you fit the description?

This post was linked to Grandparent's Say It Saturday.

The color purple ... and pink ... and yellow

Jim and the girls and I have attended the same church for many years, so it's the go-to place for Easter and other Christian holidays (as well as most Sundays in between). Easter Sunday usually means lots of pink, yellow and purple outfits will be in display, worn by little girls in frilly finery, moms and grandmas donning Easter bonnets. Even Dads and Grandpas sheepishly sport pastel shirts and ties, succumbing to threats subtle pressure from their wives.

That's what we usually see at Easter service.

At yesterday's Easter service, there was no sea of pastel, no Easter bonnets. It didn't seem that many of the outfits were even new. In fact, lots of folks were wearing worn jeans or khakis -- fairly typical of a regular Sunday, but not Easter, the Sunday of all Sundays.

It was odd. And a little sad. It underscored the fact that new Easter outfits weren't in the cards for anyone this year, not just my family. Despite the optimism sparked by recent unemployment numbers, it seems economic recovery has yet to become reality, at least to the degree that we all felt new outfits were a priority.

I know, I know. New Easter outfits aren't really all that important. We all still sang just as loudly, still exchanged customary Easter greetings, and appreciated the trumpets, Easter lillies and C & E crowd not typical of regular Sunday services.

But like so many other traditions of Easter that have fallen by the wayside, traditions I wrote about here, I missed the pastels, the bonnets, the little girls twirling in their fancy dresses and white patent leather shoes.

Easter just didn't seem as Easter-y as usual.

If nothing else, though, I keep telling myself -- and this is the optimist in me struggling to keep its head above water -- at least I didn't stick out like sore thumb this year. As I worshipped in my dark clothing, I fit right in, I looked much like everyone else. This year it didn't matter that I prefer basic black (dark gray this time, to be exact) to frilly fuschia, Pepto-Bismol pink or buttercup yellow.

Worthy of a hallelujah? Probably not. But the way things have been of late, I'm taking comfort where I can get it.

And I'm thinking that -- if our financial picture gets a little rosier in the next year -- I just might buy a rose-colored outfit to match, for next year's Easter service. In honor of things looking better, I think that maybe, I just might be able to do pastel.

And a bonnet? No bonnet for me, thank you very much. I truly cannot do that. Nope, no matter how sunny things get, you won't catch me in a bonnet -- for Easter or otherwise. Pink I can consider doing. A bonnet? No way!

And to that I can give a hearty "Hallelujah!"

Plus an adamant "Amen!"

Today's question:

If you could wear only one color of clothing for the rest of your days, what color would you choose?

My answer: Black. I'm not a depressed/depressing kind of person; I just prefer black.

If I had a million dollars

When Jim and I were first married, we were pretty darn broke. We stayed home nearly every Friday and Saturday night, playing backgammon and gin rummy and dreaming of better days to come.

"If we had all the money in the world," I'd ask, just to break up the monotony of me him winning all the time, "what would you want to be doing right now?"

His response and our discussion to follow usually went far beyond what we'd be doing that night if we had money, evolving into how we'd spend the entire stash if we won the lottery: fancy dining experiences, fast cars, hip clothes, trips to exciting/interesting/exotic places, attending concerts across the country of our favorite bands.

Fast forward 28 years.

While we no longer stay home every Friday and Saturday night, we do still talk often about what we'd do if we won the lottery. And those conversations are where we really show our age.

Here's the list of things Jim and I are adamant about doing if when we win the lottery, in order of priority:

• Tithe

• Pay off our gargantuan PLUS loan we took out for the girls to get the educations we didn't.

• Pay off our gargantuan house loan.

• Support our moms.

• Pay for lots of things for the girls (cars, homes, etc.).

• Hire a weekly housekeeper -- who, at Jim's request, would do the windows every other week.

• Dole out one-time cash gifts to our siblings plus a few nieces and nephews.

• Buy the house next door and totally raze it, allowing us to have back our view of Pikes Peak and making way for the most awesome play area for the grandkids.

• Put a 10-foot fence around our property.

• Buy a cabin in Flagstaff.

• Visit the Pacific Northwest ... often.

I'm sure we'd do a little clothes shopping, a lot of book shopping, a little dining out and add trips to NYC, DC and Bruges. But on our current list there's nary a mention of fancy cars, fancy clothes, wild and exotic trips.

Nope, the majority of our plans for the load of cash revolves around making life a little more comfortable on the homefront and for our family. We're getting old, it seems, and relaxing at home and knowing our family is safe and financially sound is really all we're looking for at this point.

Although ... those concerts mentioned years ago ... we'd still shell out bucks to catch concerts across the country. We're not that old yet!

Today's question:

If you were to win the lottery (regardless of whether you buy tickets or not), what is the very first thing you would buy once you claimed your prize?

My answer: Dinner at a NON-fancy restaurant after picking up the check at the lottery office. We're not fancy restaurant kind of people; a modest restaurant that serves excellent steaks and even better lemon-drop martinis would be our ideal celebration spot.

Tube talk

Jim and I recently started watching the new television series Parenthood, the one by Ron Howard et al., based on the old(er) movie of the same name.

We like it so far. Which doesn't bode well for the show. It'll likely be canceled now that I've given it my stamp of approval.

For whatever reason, Jim and I have never been big TV watchers and -- despite a few attempts -- we never seem to home in on the shows that seem to be most popular with all the other TV watchers in the country. We don't watch the CSI or Law and Order shows. We definitely don't watch reality shows. And, much to the surprise of a few friends, we've never seen an entire episode of The Simpsons.

During our early years of marriage, our favorite shows were Soap, Quantum Leap, St. Elsewhere and MASH reruns. We grew to love Beauty and the Beast and Fame, as well as -- when we could afford cable -- The Hitchhiker and It's the Garry Shandling Show (just typing that one made me smile).

Then the 90s came and we were too busy to watch TV ... or the girls commandeered the only television set we had and Jim and I joined them for precious few shows. (We were willing to sit through Buffy the Vampire Slayer; not so much Saved by the Bell or, later, Dawson's Creek.) When we did watch on our own, it was usually 20/20, 48 Hours, Dateline or some other news show that kept us constantly worried about the safety of our children.

As the girls got older and ownership of the TV returned to us, Jim and I started watching more and more on the tube. Here are a few we watched regularly in the last, say, five years:

• Six Feet Under (HBO)

• Rome (HBO) -- Jim

• 24 -- Jim

• Felicity -- me

• Gilmore Girls

• Medium (although her waking-up-in-a-gasp schtick has grown tiresome and we no longer watch)

• Brothers & Sisters (the silly drama has grown tiresome and we're about done)

• Grey's Anatomy (ditto)

• Men of a Certain Age

• True Blood (we'll be watching this upcoming season at Brianna's, as we've canceled HBO)

• Glee (!)

• Ghost Hunters (thanks, Tammy!)

But here's the kicker. Here are our favorites of the past few years, favorites that apparently very few others favored because they were lured away by Biggest Loser, American Idol, So You Think You Can Dance or any other reality show we simply couldn't stomach. These gems were canceled far too soon for our unpopular taste, which made us question the intelligence of the average TV watcher very sad: Joan of Arcadia, The Riches, Related, Six Degrees, Life on Mars, Eli Stone, Pushing Daisies (thanks for the reminder, Pam!), Flight of the Conchords and Saving Grace (the upcoming season is the final season).

What's up, people?

A friend recently gave us the first season of Lost -- and we love it so far! It'll take us quite some time to get through the seven seasons, but at least we know this series can't be canceled on us.

I wish I could say the same for Parenthood.

Today's question:

What's one of your all-time favorite TV shows?

My answer: I really loved St. Elsewhere ... and Quantum Leap. But that may just be nostalgia talking.

Finding balance

As many of you know, I've had a beef with a particular company with whom I did a bit of freelancing last year. Thirty days ago I filed a complaint with the small claims court in hopes of resolving that beef.

Thirty days ago, my day in court was scheduled for yesterday.

Thirty days ago, I didn't think about the fact that Megan and Bubby would be here on the day I was to go to court.

Well, I didn't think about it until the very moment after I agreed to the scheduled date.

Then I thought about it and dreaded it for the past thirty days.

I didn't want to go to court in the first place, but I really didn't want to go to court during the precious few hours I got to spend with Megan and Bubby.

Meeting Auntie B's kitty.More play time!Turns out having them here was exactly what I needed. They balanced out the stress, worry and soul-sucking of a morning in court* with the smiles, giggles and soul-strengthening of an afternoon with some of my favorite people in the whole wide world.

Sometimes not thinking things through pays off.

This was definitely one of those times.

*In case you wondered, I did come out ahead after my day in court. Case closed.

Today's question:

If you could have a servant (well paid, by someone else) come to your house for one hour every day, what would you have them do?

My answer: I'd have him/her do something different every day, but usually along the lines of dusting, vacuuming, and grocery shopping. Definitely the grocery shopping -- my least favorite chore!

Surprise!

On Saturday, I had what felt like a million chores to do, in preparation for Megan and Bubby's arrival on Sunday.

My list on the fridge:

• color my hair (in hopes of Bubby coming up with a new name for me, to replace Graya)
• mop the floors
• dust
• prepare the guest room, including setting up the Pack 'n' Play for Bubby
• do the catbox
• finish the laundry
• nag at Jim to get all his chores done

The only one I was getting very far on was the nagging at Jim. By noon I'd only knocked out the floors, had passed off the catbox chore to Jim and was getting ready to color my hair then hop in the shower.

I washed the gray right out of my hair and as soon as I stepped out of the shower, Jim was at the bathroom door, letting me know Brianna had stopped by.

"Great," I thought. Now I'll never get my chores done.

Then I heard banging on the piano. Jim likes to bang on play the piano sometimes, even though it's really my instrument while the guitar is his. But sheesh, this time he was banging and banging and banging.

I head out to the living room, where Brianna was standing in the doorway. I couldn't yet see the piano. I gave her the "WTF?", then whispered, "Is he trying to break it?"

I walked around the corner, ready to let loose on Jim for screwing around on my old upright ... then I saw Andrea sitting on the couch, grinning from ear to ear. I was a little confused, but figured she'd come to visit on her day off. Then I looked over at the piano ... and it wasn't Jim. It was BUBBY! Banging away on the ivories! With Megan standing over him, laughing away!

Surprise!

Megan and Bubby had arrived a day earlier than I expected! The entire family had been in on the surprise for months, doing their best to catch Mom off guard.

And they succeeded! Here I was, fresh out of the shower, chores not done, nothing planned for a family dinner that night, the Pack 'n' Play not even out of the closet yet. Completely unprepared (and I like being prepared.)

But makeup and dusting and made-up beds didn't matter. My Bubby was here! My Megan was here! I'd have one more glorious day than I expected with my babies.

I love surprises! And I love my family -- whom I often think of as completely incapable of keeping a secret, yet they're getting so darn good at keeping secrets and surprising me.

Yay for the extra day! The dusting truly can -- and will -- have to wait.

Today's question:

What's one time you were genuinely surprised?

My answer: In addition to this time and last time Megan arrived unannounced, I was very surprised by Jim's gift to me one Christmas. It was a book from the 1800s called "Eloping Angels" and I'd been looking for it for a few years. And Jim miraculously found it, bought it, surprised me with it! Yep, I love surprises!

Rediscovered loves

My question of the day yesterday asked what is something you love, love, love. It brought to mind some of the things I used to love, then forgot about, then rediscovered. Here are a few of those things:

Walgreens brand Alpha Hydroxy Face Cream -- I used this stuff years ago when I first started worrying about the dreaded wrinkles. It was cheap ($5.99 for 4 ounces), it was readily available. Day in, day out, I used the cream. Then I started making the big bucks. And spending the big bucks on more expensive face creams, from L'Oreal to Arbonne (which Andrea sold for a while). I liked the fancy-schmancy creams and forgot about my first love. Then money started getting tight again and I longed for the Alpha Hydroxy -- but could no longer find it anywhere. I've looked for it for a few years now, always lamenting the $20+ I had to shell out for an itsy bitsy container of some brand-name dewrinkler. Until just the other day. Brianna and I were at Walgreen's and the heavens opened and angels sang and a light shone upon a bottom shelf in the skin care aisle where two lonely containers of my beloved Alpha Hydroxy sat ... still priced at only $5.99 a jar. I bought both -- and considered asking the clerk if she had more in the back so I could stock up. L'Oreal: You're no longer welcome in my house! (Well, at least as long as these two jars last.)

Icees -- When I was about 12 years old, I lived in a small town (the now growing town my mom and sister still live in ... separately). There was a 7-Eleven on the route I walked each day with my BFF on our way to school. We stopped there nearly every day for penny candies (that really were about $.02). My friend's sister, the older-by-a-year, much-cooler Jeanne, stopped there, too. For Icees. My friend and I splurged occasionally, but Jeanne bought lots of the luscious carbonated red goodness, slurping them up regularly -- and saving the little points you cut out of the cup that could be redeemed for prizes. And she actually did redeem them for prizes. I was so jealous, not only of the prizes she got after purchasing and mailing in the points from 362 Icees, but because she could afford them so often. I forgot about Icees until about a year ago -- when Jim realized they sell Icees at the movie theater. Now we get an Icee every time we go see a movie. Mmmmm ... so much more satisfying (to me) than popcorn.

The smell of cut lumber -- Jim and I recently had to do a little lumber cutting around the house, trimming up old (old) doors that wouldn't close correctly because the house had settled over the years and the antique doors stuck here and there. I held the door still on the impromptu "saw horse" on the patio while Jim trimmed from the bottom ... and I was suddenly floored by the glorious scent wafting from the sawdust. I don't know if it brought me back to childhood and watching my dad create some funky wooden road sign with a rooster at the top, a hen below the rooster, then seven chicks below that, all with the label "Roger's Roost" (we were a family of seven kids) or if it brought back memories of when Jim and I remodeled our old house, doing most of the work ourselves and being incredibly proud of our work ... especially considering neither of us had ever worked any sort of construction in the past. Either way, I had forgotten how wonderful wood smells when cut. Now if I could only find a "Cut Lumber" scented candle (and, no, the "Pine" scent doesn't cut it!).

Story of the Day from StoryPeople -- I discovered the magic of storyteller and artist Brian Andreas during a family spring break trip to a small tourist town more than 10 years ago. I fell in love instantly. I bought a print. I later ordered prints for each of the girls for Christmas. I signed up for the e-mailed Story of the Day. Those stories made my day, made me smile, made my heart squish up in wondrous ways. I bought a print for our new house (actually, it was purchased for the folks we bought the new house from ... then when I saw the absolutely disgusting mess they left for us to clean, I kept the print for myself) and I love this print. It looks like this:

And it says this:

There are things you do because they feel right & they may make no sense & they may make no money & it may be the real reason we are here: to love each other & to eat each other's cooking & say it was good.

Did it squish up your heart?

But then my e-mail box was filled to the brim each day and I had to cut what I didn't have time for. StoryPeople was one of those cuts.

I have a little more time now, and a little more need for some serious heart squishing (in the good ways), so I recently signed back up for the StoryPeople story of the day ... and became a fan of StoryPeople on Facebook. I love this stuff. Once again, it makes my day.

Flannel nightgowns -- From the time I was about 15 until I was nearly 30, I wore flannel nightgowns. They were comfortable ... and comforting. Then I started feeling like an old lady and decided I needed more hip, cute, fancy, appealing nightwear. During a bout in the hospital, I received a silky pajama set from my little Girl Scouts (Daisies and Brownies!) and decided THAT'S the kind of luxurious jammies I need to wear. So I purchased another silky set from Victoria's Secret (not the kind Jim would have liked, but the kind I liked, that could be worn around the kids!). Then, for some reason I can't recall, I moved to the capri sweats and tank top kind of jammies ... then flannel pants and T-shirt jammies. And I'm sick of them. So this past weekend I decided to go ahead and be the old lady I am, and I ordered a flannel nightgown from JCPenney. Weird thing is that the only flannel nightgown I could find was a "nightshirt" -- for men! What kind of man would wear such a thing? I would kick Jim out of bed, possibly even out of the house, if he ever dared to wear a nightshirt -- flannel or any other kind. We're not THAT old! But I can't wait to put one on myself.

So there you have it: my rediscovered loves of late.

Today's question:

What long-lost love you have recently rediscovered?

The Saturday Post

My good friend Debbie had her retirement party last night. Shew ... 25 years at the same job! She's part of a dying breed, I believe, as people just don't do that anymore. Huge, huge kudos to Debbie for sticking it out!

This song is for her. Although her daughter did a bang-up karaoke job of it last night, I want to dedicate this version to her.

So here's to you, Debbie. (And don't you dare touch that to-do list yet! Take a break -- you more than earned it ... and probably need it after all those chocolate cake shots last night!)

(SORRY... THIS VIDEO LOST IN BLOG MAKEOVER)

Today's question:

What's the longest you've ever worked at one job?

I worked at the newspaper for a little over eight years. Before that, it was four years at the job where I met Debbie. I'm obviously not much of a long-term career person.

Charmed, I'm sure

On Saturday, Jim and I had to go to Walmart, one of my least favorite places in the world. I can't stand the bungled mess of a parking lot or the even more-bungled aisles. And the carts scare me: All the disinfectant wipes in the world can't get rid of the copious amounts of germs on them, and I'm finding as I get older, copious amounts of germs creep me out.

But Walmart is closer to my house than Target, and the place does have some pretty good deals. Still, it was a shopping excursion I wasn't looking forward to.

As we walked the 2.3 miles from where we had to park, I saw a penny (heads up!) and picked it up. Then Jim found one within a foot of that. He picked his up, too (even though it was heads down). With two good luck pennies in our pockets, I figured it would be a successful and survivable trip into hell.

It wasn't. Which isn't surprising, as I think it'll take a whole lot more than good luck charms to make Walmart a place I enjoy visiting.

But those unhelpful pennies reminded me of something I hadn't thought about in years: rabbit's feet, the go-to good-luck producers of the past.

Decades ago, rabbit foot keychains were everywhere. It was quite common to see a pink, green, purple or yellow foot dangling from a gal's purse or a guy's blue jeans, announcing to the world what a lucky chap or chapette they were -- or hoped to be.

I never had a rabbit's foot when I was a kid, but many of my friends did. I was partial to the non-Technicolor ones, the rabbit's feet that looked like the real thing. They were the creme de la creme of good luck charms, in my opinion, and my friend who was special enough to have one often let me hold her precious white rabbit's foot. I'd stroke the soft fur, hold it up to my cheek, feel around the tip of the foot for that little bunny toenail I knew was there.

I coveted that keychain and wished I were the kind of kid who could steal from a friend with a clear conscience. But I figured that even if I did manage to pocket the paw with no problems, the luck associated with the charm would disappear if I acquired it under less than scrupulous circumstances.

Now that I'm older and could afford a rabbit's foot if I really really wanted one, I no longer want one ... and haven't for about 35 years. They're actually kind of a gross little trinket to give a kid. I imagine many a bunny limped around with only one paw or, worse yet, had their tootsies removed just before being skinned and thrown into the pot for some hillbilly's wabbit stew.

So is that why rabbit's feet are no longer popular? Did PETA step in and educate the country on the true horrors associated with them?

And what has replaced them? Do kids even believe in good luck charms anymore? Is there a new version of the rabbit's foot, maybe a kinder, gentler charm?

I'm pretty sure kids aren't picking up pennies they find on the ground, happily picking it up and grinning at their good fortune as they stick it in their pocket, because even a kid -- maybe especially a kid -- knows that a penny doesn't get you very far nowadays.

Not even at Walmart.

Today's question:

What personal item do you have that you consider a good luck charm?