#33 Lucky Numbers Zero, One, & Two

Every day I see signs for the latest jackpot lottery. I know people win and most tickets start at $1. I rarely purchase one but when the jackpots get huge it's a tempation. I always accept whatever random numbers the machine chooses. I figure if I'm meant to win I only need $1 and the universe will conspire as to the rest. Some people have a whole routine when they purchase tickets. They spend a specific amount on specific numbers: family members birthdays, anniversaries, or just lucky numbers. Are numbers really lucky? I did some research on the significance of some numbers just to see:

Zero (0): did you know zero actually started out (and is still primarily used) as a concept rather than a number? Check out this article on the Origin of Zero http://www.scientificamerican.com/article.cfm?id=history-of-zero. Another interesting fact -  the original biblical Hebrew, ancient Aramaic nor later Greek nor Roman counting systems had a digit for zero.



One (1): here is wikipedia's information on the number: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1_(number) One of the more interesting notes is the way 1 is used in the entertainment and sports industries. In Indian culture, according to http://www.indianhindunames.com/character-nature-traits-lucky-number-1.htm people who are number ones tend to be political leaders but with dependency issues.



Two (2): Good things always come in pairs, right? Here is an entire explanation of the number two in the Torah: http://www.betemunah.org/two.html . Number 2 indicates balance in Tarot.


2 is also a lucky Chinese number, according to Wikipedia, which says,
Two
The number 2 (二 or 两, Pinyin:èr or liăng) is most often considered a good number in Chinese culture. There is a Chinese saying: "good things come in pairs". It is common to repeat characters in product brand names, such as double happiness, which even has its own character 囍, a combination of two 喜. In Cantonese, two (jyutping: ji⁶ or loeng⁵) is homophone of the characters for "easy" (易) and "bright" (亮). In Northern China, the number, when used as an adjective, can also mean "stupid".^[1]




I could research and write about numbers and numerology all day and not find out everything. It is truly a fascinating topic. I'm a beautician, not a mathemetician, so I think I will stop here for now and continue to let the machines choose my numbers for me. Good luck with yours!

Forest of Fear!

http://www.renfair.com/forestoffear/index.html

Remember when I wrote about the New York Renaissance Faire? My kids and I had such a great time that we went twice. Well, now that October is here, the folks at the Faire have moved to the haunted house (the Slaughterhouse!) across the street.
I was fortunate enough to be offered free tickets for me and my oldest son. The creepy Phantom of the Opera organist warned me that the frights were too intense and scary for young children, but welcomed my 14 year old. My nephew also joined us. In fact, we made him walk in front so he would deal with the scary stuff and save us.
We arrived at about 9:30 pm on a rainy Sunday evening. There was a carnival atmosphere with brightly lit, spinning rides and lots of tents set up. Some of the tents sold gargoyles, wall hangings, and jewelry. One of the largest tents had a stage and seating inside. Three characters were on the stage looking for a victim volunteer to become a monster. Outside the tents scary creatures limped about, approaching unwary souls.
My son was so excited as he recognized the tallest of them all. Our friend the Creepy Bard had been transformed into a Victorian gentleman, albiet with a terrible scar, a blind eye, and skin that appeared to be rotting away. In his black wool cloak, knee high black boots, white frilly sleeved shirt and top hat, he appeared to be a 7 foot tall bat, swooping in uncomfortably close to guests, and growling a welcome to them.
I was actually nervous about entering the Slaughterhouse. I had not been in a haunted house since I was about 7 years old. At that one a witch stole me away from my parents and guided me into her brick wall oven. It was actually a little tunnel that had me quickly reunited me with my parents, but it was a scary enough experience that it took over thirty years and the mocking of a 14 year old to get me to go.
So we wound our way through the rope lined queue until we approached the front door of the house. We had to wait a minute to enter - groups are let in with some space between them. Inside the door waited a small sitting room. It was intentionally cluttered with all kinds of candlesticks, macabre artwork, frilly but dirty lacey things...everything crooked and off balance. And our exceedingly polite host matched the room, advising us of the rules in a deep Southern drawl.
The house was much, much bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside. Every room had a theme, and every theme had victims. It seemed the designers had researched the top twenty fears that most people suffer from and made sure to display them at their worst. Surgeries gone awry in a bloody hospital room, cockroaches crawing on a wall on what feels like a collapsing bridge, very scary clowns, dolls come to life, damaged and deranged souls, a room of torture, and even a morgue (whose occupant screamed at us to "GET OUT!!"). Every actor made it a point to get uncomfortably close, invading my personal space to an intimate degree.
My nervous reaction to each interaction was to giggle. And I looked directly down at the floor. A lot. My son would just smile at each actor and say, "hello!". My nephew didn't say a word, but I did see him jump a couple of times.
One of the very last rooms contained a plunky, out of tune piano made to look like a pipe organ. The music was being played in a frenzy, the cloak spread out like a bridal train on the floor. My son looks at me and says, "His cloak is going to get all muddy with everyone walking through here. We should move it." And so we carefully tucked it around the perimeter of the organ so guests could walk through the room without stepping on the Phantom's cloak. He continued playing the entire time, completely ignoring us. We moved on to the last hallway leading to the exit. As I was about to step out, a black wing of wool blocked my way and I was staring into a face with a clouded over eye..."Come back again soon," he growled. And with manical laughter he disappeared.
My son had such a good time that he wants to audition for a haunted house next year. Oh, boy...

Thanks to everyone at the Forest of Fear for being such gracious hosts!

#31 Shopping for...kitsch?

I love cute things. I love gadgets. I love things that look like one thing but are actually functional as another. Recently I was in a store that had a water pitcher that looked like a set of Russian nesting dolls. The top of the doll came off and became a cup. The remaining bottom part was a water pitcher. Perfect for keeping by a bedside overnight. There was also a matching set of measuring cups. Both items were on the clearance rack at greatly reduced prices. Shoulda bought 'em. Here are some cute things I would love to have. A lot more of them are on one of my favorite store websites, www.thinkgeek.com

This is a carafe. The head comes off and becomes a drinking cup.

 I find this knife block strangely satisfying.

Measuring cups.