I settled on 43 as my favorite number way back in high school. I had like a girl who lived in Chicago's north suburbs, and being an obsessed, dorky teenager, I'd look at a map to chart the course to her town. The route involved Harlem Avenue and Waukegan Road -- Illinois Highway 43. Somehow, the number stuck long after I gave up on any chance with the girl. Six years ago when I started this blog, I named it "The 43" to reflect the favorite number.

Today, I turned 43 years old. The age finally caught up with the number after 20-something years. My birthday was good. The boys woke me up early; I ate chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast, met Lori at Tonyburger for lunch, co-oped in Michael's class today, made quesadillas for dinner, substitute coached Michael's flag football game in the evening, and took the dog on a walk. The day was kind of gray, which I'm used to for a Nov. 6 birthday.

I've been still on a break with the blog over the last month. The break hasn't been out of not being inspired, but more just being in neutral. The funny thing is: I haven't minded the neutral so much. Maybe I needed it these past two months, which have been good but so, so busy.

On this, my 43rd birthday, I'm going to try switching gears with The 43. If there was a time frame to make this the best year of writing, why not the year I'm the age of my favorite number? Day 1 of 43 is in the books. I'm not in a hurry to get to Day 365.


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