Numberology

I have a thing about numbers.  Scott calls it a "mental disorder".  I call it a quirk.  Maybe some low-grade OCD. Maybe just a real bendy mind.  Hard to say.  But how it works out is that I have strong feelings for and against every number in the number-bet.  They are completely subjective, Out Of Nowhere, gut reactions and have no basis in fact, or truth or anything measurable and helpful.  I do not pretend they should be trusted or believed or even shared.  I do insist that they be respected.

I blame my father.

Part of the story of my birth is that my mother laboured for a full day, through lunch and dinner and into the dark of night.  I was taking my time I guess, perhaps because I was so enormous (Denise deserves a prize), and finally an intervention was required to hasten my arrival.  As the story goes, as midnight approached, Dr. Thomas said to my father, "So do you want the 4th or the 5th?"

Who knows how these things work, but all I know is that I was born at 11:55pm that night and have had a deep disdain for fives ever since.  So much so, that if you ask Scott and my midwife Irene about Nate's birth, they'll both tell you he could have been born about 3 hours earlier.  At one point, Irene even said (insert lovely Scottish accent here) "You're not letting him come Ali!" I don't remember wanting to extend labour but it is undeniable that he was born just a couple of hours into the 16th, a nice square of 4, not the 15th, a dumb multiple of 5.

The number 37 is a great number.  Nice and prime, no fives (or multiples thereof) nearby to wreck it.  A seven is lovely, and threes are kind of neutral - nothing offensive at all about it.  I actually have lots of good anticipation about 37.

Today, Scott is working and the kids are sick. There will be a steak and caesar salad for dinner and maybe crazy cake and wine for dessert if I get my act together this afternoon.  If not, just Halloween candy and water.