Thirty-Four

The number 34 gets very little love, it seems.

I never hear anyone get all excited at turning 34. It's "mid-thirties," and as it's not a multiple of five or ten, it's not celebrated as a landmark birthday. There's no special privilege afforded to a person at age 34. I've been a legal adult, able to vote, and drinking legal margaritas for years now.

However, 34 is part of the Fibonacci sequence (and also, therefore, the Golden Spiral). It is not a prime number. (Silly Meg Quirk #542: I hate prime numbers greater than 10--that is, 1, 2, 3, 5, and 7 don't bother me--and avoid using lockers at the gym if they are numbered with a prime number. No idea why I do this.)

It is the periodic number of selenium, was the jersey number for Nolan Ryan, and a miracle once happened on 34th Street (haha). It is divisible by two and seventeen.

And I am 34 years old today. Twice the age I was on this day in 1995, facing my senior year of high school.

Thirty-four may not seem remarkable, but I feel blessed to reach it. Happy Birthday to me!