You Are My Lucky Star…

My mother constantly says I live under a lucky star, and I have to say I agree. When my cab driver picked me up in Long Island to drive us to LGA airport, I left a solid 2 hours to allow for traffic. We made it the 60 miles in about 65 minutes. Before you think anything, just know that we also left our hotel at 5pm. The driver was in as much shock as I was, probably even more!

Sometimes I am stunned at how lucky I am, but maybe I just recognize it more often. There’s plenty of unlucky things that have happened already: my flight was canceled yesterday, my tortillia soup in San Antonio was disgusting, there have been multiple issues with my faxes for work, my projector bulb died, and let’s face it… I haven’t gotten a presenter who liked to go out of the hotel. But for all those things that are bad (the flight and the bulb being by far the worst), it’s always worked out. I got put on a better flight than I was booked for yesterday. My projector problem was fixed in less than five minutes. And actually, for all the bad food and exhausted presenters, I’ve still gotten out and gone into more cities in the last few weeks than I’ve ever managed before in a similar string of time. I even maximized time in Seattle by running off to Leavenworth with some friends to eat brats and take fall photos.

Rochester was a fun city to be in actually. There was beautiful old architecture and lots of newspaper buildings and statues around town. I wandered during lunch and then picked up a sandwich at a shop on my way back to the hotel. Then today in Ronkonkama (Long Island) I met up with another PM and we found lunch in a little part of town called Sayville, which was adorable looking and had AMAZING pizza. This is the kind of life I lead now. Sometimes I just want to explode with happiness and amazement. This is an almost daily experience. How did I get here again?

I really am a lucky girl. I can hardly believe it sometimes. But the more I believe it the luckier I get. I really think it’s half grace, half attitude—half blessing, half my own openness and efforts—never all my own credit, but partly my fault. Or maybe I just like to think so.