I am a superstitious person.  You probably wouldn’t guess it if you met me.  I have a degree in chemical engineering. I manage a team of 14 web developers (well if you include me it is 14, but if I said I manage 13 web developers, watch out).  On the surface I seem like a very sane person, but I’m not.

I have normal superstitions.  Don’t break a mirror, that’s seven years bad luck.  Don’t walk under a ladder, even more bad luck.  But I’ve also got weird ones.  Watch me close and you’ll see that I never walk on the opposite side of a pole as you.  Why?  Because if we do, and we both don’t say “bread and butter” we’ll get in a fight.  (Actually we are supposed to say “bread and butter wash your face in dirty water” or something totally ridiculous, but I don’t take it that far.)  I have a few people in my life who know me well enough that I insist that they just say “bread and butter”, because it’s impossible to fix normal situations in my life, like when my husband and daughter walk on the opposite side of a pole from each other.  There is just no way to solve that conundrum.  I walk one way I fight with him, and the other I fight with her.  No win except to say the words.  Oh, and never kill a spider in your house.  He is a predator and you like him better than the bugs he eats, and you shouldn’t kill living things, and, yes, it’s bad luck.

My grandma is responsible for most of my superstitions, but I’ve managed to make some on my own.  This morning at work I was distracted by two bunnies frolicking in the snow.  Bunnies, not their feet, have always been a good omen to me.  When I used to fly a lot for work I would know the trip was going to be a safe one when I saw a bunny as I was walking from my car to the terminal.  I would save my carrots from the meals they used to serve on airplanes and throw them at the bunnies when I arrived safely home, because nothing says “thanks for being good luck” like carrot bombs.

On my way out of the office today I saw three bunnies playing as I was walking to my car.  Another good omen equals a double good omen day.  A good thing too, since I forgot to eat my black eyed peas on New Year’s Day yesterday.  Maybe five bunnies today will offset my negligence and save my 2015 from utter disaster. (Just in case though, I’m going to go eat my peas.)

This morning I missed Amy. She used to work the till at my local Einstein’s Bagels. She was a bigger lady in her 40s or 50s with heavy makeup. She was friendly in a harsh loud way, but she always remembered me. I loved that, walking in and being remembered. Who wouldn’t? It’s the “Norm!” experience.

A few months ago Amy was missing every time I went in for a bagel. Briefly she came back, but she wasn’t the same Amy. She was a little less harsh and a little less loud and a lot less lively. Then she disappeared again; I think this time for good.

People like Amy make the world go around and I think about her and her existence outside of the little sliver I saw. I wonder about where she went and what happened to her. Was she physically ill? Was mentally ill? Is she working somewhere else? Would I recognize her outside of her Einstein’s habitat?

My bagel was fine this morning and the service was good, but it wasn’t quite the same without the spice Amy brought to the transaction.

afthead (aft’hed) n.

1 The back of the head where hair or a hat is normally found.  The opposite of forehead.

2 A potty found in the back of a boat.

3 The first truly unique idea I have had in some time (proven by the availability of afthead.com domain, but ignoring the annoyingly, already taken afthead twitter account).

4 Super awesome blog about super awesome stuff, I hope.

Follow me on this adventure. You’ll recognize me by the curly mane on my afthead.