I got the duct tape. Now I can try out.

I am a deeply superstitious person.

It's ridiculous, I know.  Scientific training, educated reason, yada yada yada.

And yet I will continue to wear a piece of jewelry for an entire week if I deem it "lucky" in regards to work.  (Lucky being that the onslaught from the ER and consult services remains manageable instead of the full torrent)

D's Go-to-sleep ritual has become increasingly elaborate, in which you turn on a musical seahorse, hand her a stuffed tiger and cover the whole shebang with a polar bear blanket.

But there's reason to my madness.  The fall down, go boom practice was one of the very few I hadn't been wearing pearls.  We have days like today at work, where I end up with a daily rounding list of 27 patients.  And thankfully infrequent all night dance parties that Diana invites us to.

So I needed Duct Tape if I was going to go back.

Jeez, at one point my skates were immaculate.  They're not so pretty now.

At some point, I decided that black and white checks were going to be my "thing".  Raven had giant fuzzy leg warmers, Skates of Wrath had a truly B.A. helmet with fantastic decorations.  So I latched on to the duct tape, because you need something to keep your skates from getting too ripped up on cheese-grater sport court or concrete.

Of course, now that I've started skating again, I've been looking in every store for my elusive tape.   It was interesting to note that the patterns had expanded to include Mustaches and Jonas Brothers.  But no checkered tape in any display I looked at.   I started to take it as a sign that maybe I shouldn't skate anymore - without my "lucky" tape.

Amazon.  $6.07 (Prime Elegible)

So I'm ready.  (Of course, just getting TO tryouts involved a switch in my schedule call times, a favor from my partner, my babysitter willing to stay until 9:30 PM and not seeing Girlie until after she goes to sleep, since Nick is gone the entire Sunday they're being held on.)