We have a wish bone sitting on our windowsill. It's nice and dry and ripe for the cracking. I can't even remember what "bird" it came from - it was weeks ago. I keep forgetting to grab a leg and ask D to grab the other and pull - but I will do it soon enough.
I've been catching 11:11 a lot lately (perhaps because my life is now played out in three to four hour segments of time and so I watch the clock like a crack hor these days). Who knows why four ones on a clock is an open invite for wishing but somewhere along the line someone told me it was, so when I catch it I make a wish.
I LOVE making wishes. You are never given a wish without also being given the power to make it come true (good right?! it's not me, it's Richard Bach). I remember as a kid, the one wish bone on Thanksgiving was a sought after treasure. I feel as if my parents always gave us turns at it (having to keep the peace with six girls wanting to make a wish) and we would watch as the two lucky candidates got to pull and see who's end was longer (what an effed up thing to symbolize luck; but once again, I digress). That was the great wish of the year (well that and the pennies in the Southglenn Mall fountain).
In any case, sometimes I see a wish as pure folly, but most of the time I see it as a moment to refocus on something positive I want from life.
So make a wish!