Last day of 41

Forty-one is such a boring, bland nondescript number. It’s a prime number. It’s the atomic number of niobium, something I know nothing about. George H. W. Bush was the 41st president of the United States – and I can’t remember if that’s the old one or the dumb one. It’s the number Kurt Busch drives in Nascar. Again, I can’t remember which brother he is – if he’s the one I’m supposed to like or dislike. 41 doesn’t stand out much at all.

Today is the last day that I will be 41. For that I am thankful. It’s been somewhat of a shitty year.

To be fair, I actually can’t say that completely. It started off so strongly! I graduated with my Masters! It seems so long ago, but that was pretty fantastic achievement. My Vikes Nation team won the United Way Plasma Car Race. I got a new kitten who I LOVE. Aidan’s team won the Rick Lapointe tourney – thirty years after Jeff’s team won it. We had an absolutely fantastic Christmas at my Dad’s place. The first quarter of the year rocked!

So let’s just say 2015 hasn’t been so hot.

Tomorrow, I turn 42. 42 is a much better number. It’s the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything, according to the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. It’s the number Jackie Robinson wore (great movie by the way). It’s divisible by 2, 3, and 7.  And it’s the age I will be when I kick cancer to the curb.