In Which I Immediately Perform an About-Face

Whew. Life.

Right?

34 years old. 12 years of marriage. 2 kids. 54 students.

Numbers. Numbers. Why so many numbers? Data. Data crunching. Data usage. Invalid  use of data. Celebrating meaningless data. Manipulating data. Computers. Technology. Broken technology. Helpful technology.

Virtual Life. Calling to memory that scene from RENT when that one chick gets everyone to "moo" with her in Cyberland where everyone drinks diet coke after sending Mickey Mouse off a cliff in a yellow rental truck filled with fuel oil.

I'm done. DONE.

Last night we sat around with a few friends and laughed so hard the tears flowed freely. Why isn't life filled with more of THAT?

I'd like to turn on my heel, putting my back to everything meaningless, go off to a cabin in the woods with my camera and a sketchpad and just hit "reset."

Can't really do that, though. Because, numbers. The numbers in the bank account. The numbers in my gradebook. The numbers on the calendar.

Who on earth came up with numbers, anyway? They just get in the way.

Last night, the only number that mattered was 7. Because of the part it played in the funniest story I have heard in a long, long, time.

Let's have more of that.