It's all a numbers game

Like most people, I have a lucky number.  Well, I have a few...and they're not necessarily lucky, but they're still my favorite numbers.  Each of them have a reason, some more valid than others.  Some are just plain stupid.

When I was a teenager, I went camping with my extended family every summer.  We went to Garner State Park, arguably one of my favorite places in the world.  It's so peaceful and pretty and so much fun.  As a teenager, we (my cousins, sister, and myself) had certain expectations, and even based our overall feeling of the trip on how many cute boys we met each year.  I'm not kidding.  We even had a numbers system with paper plates.  We would sit, in lawn chairs, at the edge of our campsite and rate the boys as they drove by in their trucks.  Some would continue to drive by in hopes of raising their score.  Once it got dark, we would generally run into said boys at the dance the park staff hosted every night at the pavilion. 

1999 was quite possibly the best year of them all.  We ran into boys we had met the previous year from outside of Houston (it seemed like everyone was from Houston), some boys from Colleyville (My sister actually stayed friends with one of them through college), and who could forget...the Brownwood boys.  That summer was a summer full of fun, new friends, and (of course) "romance".  Garner is one of those places where you can be whomever you want to be because the chances of seeing anyone from Garner again is highly unlikely.  Except this time.  In fact, I was talking to one of the Brownwood boys via Facebook messenger this morning.  Thirteen years later, we're still friends.  Who would've thought...

I say all this because the best campsite EVER at Garner, right near the pavilion, was campsite 42.  My cousins and I used to ritually chant "42" over and over again all the way into the park, and the whole time we were waiting for my grandmother to come back and let us know our campsite assignments.  There were only a couple of years where we didn't have 42 the whole time, and we were known to pack up and move if it became available.  It's just awesome.  42 pops up in my life all the time, and each time it does, a huge smile creeps across my face.  It's practically involuntary.  Something incredible is bound to happen to me when I turn 42, I just know it.

I also love the number 10.  It just seems like a nice, solid number.  I could go further into that and say that I first realized I liked that number when I realized it was the baseball number of someone that I thought was insanely cute when I was younger.  I could say that each time I see 10, I think about "stealing" his baseball shirt with "10" on the sleeve, although I will argue to this day that he gave it to me willingly.  10 is just super.  I have a 10 year-old.  See?  It works.

3:  This one is even more ridiculous.  When I was in high school, my best friend and I both had a thing for a soccer player.  His number was 3.  I don't know why we were so ridiculous, but we both agreed to make 3 our favorite number for forever.  We were 15, y'all.  Don't judge me.  Either way, 3 is a favorite number...yes, I know it's pathetic.  BUT there are 3 of us in my little family, and I think it works for us.

Just thinking about my favorite numbers makes me want to go camping.  Driving home with the windows down and a cool breeze really makes me want to be outdoors, near the Frio River, just soaking in the sounds...just not the birds.  Man, I hate birds.  A lot.  And they know it.

Aubs