I woke up at 6:30 this morning, like I do every morning these days -- some vestigial sleep pattern stuff left over from my stay with the "three little babies," I think -- but instead of wiggling deeper under the covers and going back to sleep like normal, I suddenly remembered that I'd neglected to recharge my new Sidekick, about which I'm still all Christmasy-excited, what with it arriving in the mail only yesterday.

Of course once I had that sleek, cute thing in my hands, I was instantly awake. So I decided to thumb some pals into the address book, and I turned on a little NPR to keep me company. But my clock radio kept staticking and fading in this weird, possessed way. I'd pick it up and all would be well, but as soon as I put it back down, it would screech. So finally I rested it on the pillow, touching my head, which seemed to work. I was just returning my attention to my Sidekick (hi, cute thing, hi!) when the NPR man said, "Thanks to Evany Thomas and [some other name] for today's show." Which was pretty weird. It's not totally, totally crazy, and by that I mean I'm not totally, totally crazy, because I donated money during the last pledge drive. (See? I've become one of those women who live alone, bring tupperwared celery sticks to work, and give money to public radio. Up next: elastic waisted pants in crinkley cotton with matching tunic top.) And maybe rather than rattle off all the contributor names in some hour-long list, they just sprinkle the names throughout the year's broadcasts? That makes sense, right?

But what are the chances that I'd be listening at 6:45 or whatever in the morning? Or that I'd actually go through the trouble of balancing the dumb radio on my ear to fix the feedback problem instead of turning the thing off like a normal person? Just goes to show how lucky I am. But not macro lucky. Just micro lucky.

Like I recently bought an entire lot of animal-themed brooches on eBay (the perfect accent for crinkle-cotton, sage-green tunic tops!), and the super cute fly pin was missing a rhinestone. Aw, I thought. But then, then I remembered that a rhinestone had fallen out of this vintage cigarette holder I have (note: I do not smoke), and that I'd propped the rhinestone in the medicine cabinet, right there by the Excederin. (I don't know why, either.) It had been sitting there for about a year, twinkling at me as I brushed my teeth. And, wouldn't you know? It fit perfectly in the fly pin, like Cinderella's slipper!

It all fits my theory about luck. I think at some pre-birth, pre-soul time, we're all given a choice, maybe a button or lever we flick in the womb, between a life full of lots and lots of little lucks, or one, big, lottery-winning, huzzah piece of luck. And I picked the little lucks.

I've always been little lucky. Like I wouldn't do my homework on the day the teacher's out sick. Or I'd go into a random vintage store on a whim and find the perfect dress -- hot and unfaded and just big enough for all my rack- and ass-meat. And I just so happen to be up at 6:30 fondling my PDA/cellphone miracle when my name comes on the radio.

(PS: My diary has officially moved over to my official evany.com website. Let's meet up over there!)

(PS: My diary has officially moved over to my official evany.com website. Let's meet up over there!)