It’s eight. My favorite number is eight. Eight and I have been simpatico for quite a while now. Oh there have been other numbers that tried to out do eight, but eight seems to make me smile like no other number.
There was a short time when number three tried to capture my attention, then eight pushed back in. Number eight and I are comfortably tied together.
I know that there is no reasonable reason to have a favorite number. There is however a very reasonable reason to have a favorite food, person, flower or day. Yes day. Word day, not number day.
Too often favorite number days change over the years. First kiss day, wedding day, new car day, these are more of a number day. Birthdays are number days. Sept. 19 for example.
Babies seem to be ecstatic on their birthday. They scream with delight at the sight of first light of course then they coo with contentment. As the years go by most of us really like our special one day a year when we celebrate our delivery out of the womb. But! Yes, a numbered “but.” But word days, Monday, Tuesday and so forth are what I am talking about.
As school kids each wonderful Saturday is sought after and that desired day is also paid homage to throughout our working years. Saturday! Even if your Saturday falls on a Monday or a Thursday it is usually the beginning of a two-day weekend, kind of like a mini vacation from work. Yes, Saturday sometime in life is the do all be all day.
For me? Wednesday has always been the day I put a star by. I have no real reason for this. You know how you just know when something is right? That’s how I feel about Wednesday.
It doesn’t have anything to do with the proverbial “Hump Day” or the poem about Wednesday’s child full of woe. I’m never full of whoa let alone woe. Wednesday just feels comfortable to say. You said Wednesday out loud didn’t you?
As for food. Of course, there are food particles that are craved. I have heard more than once somebody say they could live on just one thing for the rest of their lives. Like bacon. Or tacos. When someone asks you what you want to eat I’d bet there’s something wonderful that makes your mouth water. But to have it over and over and over? I mean life is a really long time to eat just rib steak and grilled asparagus.
I could happily give it a try though. My cardio guy might have a heart attack if I did. HAHA I would of course say the asparagus counter acts the fat in the steak as I gobbled down another bite. I am a cow girl all the way!
Then there are flowers. I’m such a girl. I like flowers. Lots of flowers. Lots of colors and sniffy smells. Petunias quietly find your nose in the spring and roses and iris and now, late in the summer the bee balm in my yard is drawing in buzzing bees and hummingbirds. In the house in the winter?
I used to get roses from my other half. Such a wonderful surprise. Then I finally said that as much as I liked them my favorite flower to get in a bouquet is a bunch of carnations. He asked why and was very pleased at my answer. I think this way.
Roses are wonderful but they are hard to get to last. Sometimes they don’t even open. But carnations! They are tons less money — always good for a guy buying flowers. Carnations last and last giving off a sniffiness every day that quietly and wonderfully seeps into your nose. Now that’s a flower. Besides ladies, if you ask for carnations you might get them more often because they cost less. I’m pretty tight with a dollar ya know.
Favorites in life have some special meaning. That number 8 for me is where it’s at. I was Operator #8 when I worked for the phone company. I like writing 8s. I knew Operator #5 and she was a hoot but writing 5 on all her call tickets, one written out for each call handled, would have been awful. I’ve never like writing 5. Oh and Operator #13, we had too much fun.
But my number 8. It’s smooth and easy. Oh and if you write it on its side? To infinity and beyond! Come on you’re just itching to give it a try.
Trina lives in Eureka, Nevada. Her book, They Call Me Weener is available on Amazon or write to her at itybytrina@yahoo.com.
-->It’s eight. My favorite number is eight. Eight and I have been simpatico for quite a while now. Oh there have been other numbers that tried to out do eight, but eight seems to make me smile like no other number.
There was a short time when number three tried to capture my attention, then eight pushed back in. Number eight and I are comfortably tied together.
I know that there is no reasonable reason to have a favorite number. There is however a very reasonable reason to have a favorite food, person, flower or day. Yes day. Word day, not number day.
Too often favorite number days change over the years. First kiss day, wedding day, new car day, these are more of a number day. Birthdays are number days. Sept. 19 for example.
Babies seem to be ecstatic on their birthday. They scream with delight at the sight of first light of course then they coo with contentment. As the years go by most of us really like our special one day a year when we celebrate our delivery out of the womb. But! Yes, a numbered “but.” But word days, Monday, Tuesday and so forth are what I am talking about.
As school kids each wonderful Saturday is sought after and that desired day is also paid homage to throughout our working years. Saturday! Even if your Saturday falls on a Monday or a Thursday it is usually the beginning of a two-day weekend, kind of like a mini vacation from work. Yes, Saturday sometime in life is the do all be all day.
For me? Wednesday has always been the day I put a star by. I have no real reason for this. You know how you just know when something is right? That’s how I feel about Wednesday.
It doesn’t have anything to do with the proverbial “Hump Day” or the poem about Wednesday’s child full of woe. I’m never full of whoa let alone woe. Wednesday just feels comfortable to say. You said Wednesday out loud didn’t you?
As for food. Of course, there are food particles that are craved. I have heard more than once somebody say they could live on just one thing for the rest of their lives. Like bacon. Or tacos. When someone asks you what you want to eat I’d bet there’s something wonderful that makes your mouth water. But to have it over and over and over? I mean life is a really long time to eat just rib steak and grilled asparagus.
I could happily give it a try though. My cardio guy might have a heart attack if I did. HAHA I would of course say the asparagus counter acts the fat in the steak as I gobbled down another bite. I am a cow girl all the way!
Then there are flowers. I’m such a girl. I like flowers. Lots of flowers. Lots of colors and sniffy smells. Petunias quietly find your nose in the spring and roses and iris and now, late in the summer the bee balm in my yard is drawing in buzzing bees and hummingbirds. In the house in the winter?
I used to get roses from my other half. Such a wonderful surprise. Then I finally said that as much as I liked them my favorite flower to get in a bouquet is a bunch of carnations. He asked why and was very pleased at my answer. I think this way.
Roses are wonderful but they are hard to get to last. Sometimes they don’t even open. But carnations! They are tons less money — always good for a guy buying flowers. Carnations last and last giving off a sniffiness every day that quietly and wonderfully seeps into your nose. Now that’s a flower. Besides ladies, if you ask for carnations you might get them more often because they cost less. I’m pretty tight with a dollar ya know.
Favorites in life have some special meaning. That number 8 for me is where it’s at. I was Operator #8 when I worked for the phone company. I like writing 8s. I knew Operator #5 and she was a hoot but writing 5 on all her call tickets, one written out for each call handled, would have been awful. I’ve never like writing 5. Oh and Operator #13, we had too much fun.
But my number 8. It’s smooth and easy. Oh and if you write it on its side? To infinity and beyond! Come on you’re just itching to give it a try.
Trina lives in Eureka, Nevada. Her book, They Call Me Weener is available on Amazon or write to her at itybytrina@yahoo.com.
