I woke up to two things this morning: a text from my mom, Marti (“How are things at Hogwarts?”) and an apocalyptic blizzard of Mayan proportions. Toto, I don’t think we’re on 5998 Alcala Park anymore.
You’d think the UK would be familiar with horrendous weather – I mean, after all, isn’t that part of England’s reputation along with food that feels like acid rain in your stomach and teeth that double as can openers (see entry #2)? But no. The snow was enough to make the city halt transportation which is why I’m not snuggled up on a train to Hertfordshire right now. So my plans to spend the weekend with my aunt, uncle, cousins, and Julie (as she conveniently arrives in town this Saturday for study abroad!) were no more.
Yet fortunately for me, another one of my relatives is settled in London (how we’re related I could not tell you, but like that matters when you’re Greek) and has been hoping to reconnect for a while now. She invited me to this – you guessed it – Greek celebration tonight. It’s actually a New Years holiday for Greeks everywhere, where traditions include baking a coin into a cake and whoever finds the coin is blessed with good luck for the year. Now, something you should know about me: I have this thing about winning. In my humble defense, it’s only because I’m so good at it. Friends and family love to tease me because I’ve always had a habit of being oddly lucky, whether that means spotting a 20 dollar bill on the ground or not doing my homework for the entirety of senior year and still managing straight As. And for those rare situations in which I don’t have the upper hand… well, let’s just say I have a bit of a reputation for cheating in Monopoly. So, without further ado:
Dear Zeus,
I’m assuming we’re not on the best of terms considering I basically flunked out of Greek school due to my love of… uh, never shutting the hell up. But bear with me here. Word on the olive vineyard is that Mama Marti herself found the elusive coin in her slice of cake only once… and as she is ever so eager to remind me, it was the same year she met my father. Yeah, yeah, cue the sappy music from some romcom that I hate. You can probably surmise that unlike my mother I’m not exactly seeking out my own personal Prince Charming- seeing as I’d rather be waterboarded than suffer through cruel and unusual punishment like marriage anytime soon. But hey, if you feel like throwing some good fortune at me another way, I wouldn’t complain. Namely my presidential campaign could use a boost… I’m still a little distraught ever since certain pictures of me from a Spanish club surfaced on Facebook not too long ago. Let’s not go into details. Anyway, from one Aristotle descendent to another, feel like helping me out?
I promise to actually celebrate Greek Easter this year,
Arianna
The Art of Being Basic 
your father maintains that the traditional coin in the vascilopita started as a Greek dentist’s ploy for business. (It’s all a part of this big “Greek Conspiracy” he goes on about)
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