why the number 7 is dead to me

Recently, the Youngest Carrotstick's baseball team was charged with the arduous task of choosing their "number". The number 5 seemed to be a favorite.

As did the number 23.

Number 3 was a close third.

The Youngest Carrotstick got lucky and got 3.

But there was quite a lot of debate about what the cool numbers were and why this number was better than another. Number 5 was a family tradition in several families. Do you know why 23 is so hot?

Here's a hint, in case you, like me, are sports challenged:

I, myself, like odd numbers. Especially prime numbers. 'Cause I'm a nerd like that, I guess. Except that now the number 7 is dead to me.

Why? you ask.

Because.

Within 7 months -- from March to October -- my life will be completely changed.

No. I am not two months pregnant. But thanks for wondering.

It began in March with this:

(These are the baptism pictures that my sister asked for. You can skip them if you want. I know you needed my permission to do so, and now you have it. Skip away, guilt free.)

I was just informed that my 20 year High School reunion is scheduled to take place in July. Don't worry, I'm not going.

And then goes on to the advent of High School for the Oldest Carrotstick.

And ends with the Middle Carrotstick receiving the Priesthood.

I'm sorry.

I can't talk about this anymore.

Curse you, number 7.

I remember when 7 was a good number -- it comes before 8, and 8 is when you get baptized. Now it is just making me feel old. It might as well be 97.