Friday, October 13, 1307 is the day in history known as the day the Holy Knights of the Templar were dissolved. Some suggest it is also the origin for the superstition surrounding Friday the 13th. Thirteen is an unconventional number. Skyscrapers have been built and have numbered their floors omitting thirteen altogether. Perverse little computer geeks have sent bugs, cookies, eggs, etc out into the virtual world just to mess with the world at large. Black cats, broken mirrors, and ladders perched against buildings all are cut a wide girth on the thirteenth. And while I don’t care much for propped ladders, or the mess of broken glass so often a product of broken mirrors, I do have, and adore (sometimes beyond reason) a black cat–but I digress…
Thirteen years ago today, it was a Friday, and I started a teaching job that would fast become something akin to my dream job. I was hired to teach my first grade 12 English class: to adults. Being bruised and battered from a career that had mostly included subbing, I was so floored and touched to have my students thank me at the end of the class. It was an auspicious beginning, and now, even save for the odd “one of those days” there is no where else I’d rather work.
Today also marks my three month wedding anniversary. To honour the occasion, I made my hubby some bacon-cheese scones for Sunday brunch. I know, how very “wifely” of me. What can I say, I have my moments where I transcend stereotypes–almost effortlessly. Almost.
The truth is I don’t easily fit into anyone stereotype–never have. This could be why nicknames imposed upon me rarely ever ‘stick’. This could also be why my husband was able to sustain his initial attraction to me. I am very conventional in many ways. I love my mom and dad–for example. I am your classic Winnipeger in that I am friendly, but less so while driving.
I also agreed to the convention of marriage—eventually. However, I am also unconventional within these parameters. For example, my dad is very concerned that I am not even willing to consider hyphenating my surname with my husband’s. Nevertheless, I am standing my ground. The same guy who is baffled also thought it was a fine idea to saddle me with two middle names which was something that made filling out forms somewhat irritating throughout the years. Now, I am supposed to add another name–when few bureaucracies already can manage me with my many names? Sorry Dad–not gonna do it! I am keeping my name, along with keeping my house, my car, and my career. I can knit, sew, and bake. However, I can also change both the tires and the oil on a car. I can both quote Tennyson, and swear like a sailor (such antics keep my students on their toes). I am your conventional one-of-a-kind.My husband is also a one-of-a-kind: his mother told me so. Together, we seem to ‘work’ well. We have a taste for both conventional and unconventional.
For us the 13th serves to be quite fortuitous. Moreover, we also have a fascination for the esoteric; hence the 13th of the month as a wedding date. However, we are a fortuitous pairing. Before we found each other on a dating website, we likely walked by each other random times–even despite the fact we never lived in the same province at the same time until after we met and moved in together. We spent our respective youths being someone the other would not give a second glance towards, and yet, somehow…we met, and we ‘work’. So, even if the 13th didn’t quite work out as a lucky number for Knights of the Templar, it is seems to be doing the trick for me. Cheers!