47 || creative commons photo by SpankyNew
47 || creative commons photo by SpankyNew

Forty-seven is a prime number, and then some.

It’s a “safe prime,” a “supersingular prime,” an “Eisenstein prime,” and a “Lucas prime.” It’s a “non-palindromic number.” It’s a “Keith number” and a “Carol number.” I like to imagine they’re a pair of mathematical geniuses who found romance over the fancy calculator in grad school, those crazy kids. (And no, I’ve no clue what any of that means.)

And it’s how old I am today.

So, what does 47 look like around here?

  • I’m flossing regularly, though that’s only started in the last month.
  • I’ve embraced the cropped-sweater-over-baggy-jeans look.
  • I’ve replaced my stilettos with Blundstones.

I’ve gotten more practical as I’ve gotten older, though I’ve long said that I’ve been an 82-year-old woman my whole life. I pay my taxes on time and I vote in every election. I don’t jump the queue and I make sure my car gets an oil change when the little sticker on the windshield tells me to.

On the other hand, I also have popcorn and wine for dinner more than every so often, stay up until 2-3am knitting and watching crap TV on a regular basis (even though I’ve got a 9:30am meeting the next day), spend money a little too freely for someone approaching 50 and without a pension, and swear like I’m on an episode of “The Wire.”

I might be sort of responsible, but I’m not sure I’d call myself a grownup. I mean, I’m someone who spent far too long down the “what does 47 mean” rabbit hole yesterday, you guys.

Forty-seven is the atomic number of silver (my preferred jewelry metal, if you’re wondering what to get me, j/k).

Forty-seven is Norway’s telephone country code (so maybe I should have booked tickets there this year instead of Madrid?).

Some numerology sites say 47 is “about building relationships,” or that it means “the answers you seek are within you.” (I don’t believe in numerology, but I can 100% get behind building relationships and relying more on myself for answers, so yay numerology?)

Let’s say this, 47: I wouldn’t mind a “supersingular” year, as long as there’s enough of the “safe” to keep me from going completely gray. I’ll work on trusting my intuition more than worrying about what other people think. I’ll keep focusing on community (something I’ve been trying to do since November 2016, gee I wonder what happened then). I’ll continue to embrace the eccentric whenever I can, adding more silver bangles to my wrists than seems appropriate and booking a flight to Oslo if the price is right—even if the timing isn’t.

(Whatever happens over the next 12 months, I hope it makes Keith and Carol proud.)

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