09-09-09

Happy 09-09-09 everyone.  That will be something I will not be able to say again in my lifetime unless some pill comes up to give you another 100 years.  Don't think I'd like that idea.  I have a hard enough keeping up with today's electronics - imagine what it would be like in 2109.

9 has always been  my favorite number.  I think this started with my teen heart throb and baseball hero - Ted Williams - Boston Red Sox #09.I would spend many games at Fenway Park just waiting for him to hit another over the green monster.  If he had not served his country as a pilot in WWII and was away from the game during his time of duty - I don't think anyone could have caught up with his record.  Not even the steroid filled cheaters.

The number 9 has woven it's course through the tapestry of my life.  I was married 09-19-59 (yep - nearing 50 years but that's another blog).  9 and 19 were the addresses of most of our homes since.  The last home in Maine was 11 and then the town clerk said it could have been 9 - did I want it changed.  Let it go, I thought - I don't need the number on the house - it is in my heart.

I'm not a good flyer and taking off on one trip was just after a thunderstorm went through, I noticed we were on runway 9 - I felt much better.  And then we landed on runway 19.  Nice.   

I was reminded today that our granddaughter was baby number 9 in China when she was adopted.  Now her favorite number is 9.  I know it will work well for her.

So happy 09-09-09 everyone.  I'm sure next year, someone will be pleased with 10-10-10.

FRIED BUTTER UPDATE - The man that introduced fried butter treats in Texas won first place for the best new fair food.  Who am I to judge.  This was voted by the fair goers.  In Iraq, you could tell the voters by the purple stained finger.  Guess in Texas it would be by the greasy fingers. 

Comments

[Rob in Sanford]

Is the butter frozen in liquid nitrogen before frying, or how is it prevented from liquifying during the process? Sounds pretty disgusting (like the chocolate covered bacon), but I agree with you, who am I to judge?