The Luckiest Man Alive

For those of you who do not already know it. I am married to the luckiest man alive. That’s right, not only did he manage to convince me to marry him but he is truly lucky. If there’s a raffle, he wins it. A prize to be had, it’s his. The blinking yellow traffic light waits for him to pass. I’ve been unsuccessfully trying to convince him for years to purchase lottery tickets. Seriously, he’s just that lucky.

Yesterday being Easter and all, I wanted to go to church. See, I go to church on Christmas and Easter. Yes, I’m one of those people. Now before you send me all kinds of flame mail about how hypocritical and offensive that is, please keep in mind that, I probably remembered your birthday too!

Anyhow, so the Fab-man and I are tossing around the church options. There’s the Roman Catholic church, which last year was so crammed to the gills with overheated and unsupervised children running down the aisles, that we were forced to listen to the sermon from the park across the street. Our other option was a Christian service in English, which started in about 15 minutes.

We hightail it over to the service, and we’re getting out of the car, as a very nice lady asks us

“Are you here for the service?” (which is blatantly obvious since I’m wearing a dress on a Sunday ) “Our pastor and his wife are sick and I’m afraid they had to cancel services today, we’re very sorry.”

My husband actually had the grace to turn beet red, as the nice lady and I looked on him incredulously after he said “SCORE!”

See I told you he was lucky.