Lucky 7

Yippie ki yo ki yay!  Big milestone--or is it a millstone?  I have officially passed the 7-month-pickin' mark.  I have lots to say about that, but first--allow me to opine on why I cannot/do not cook, an entirely unrelated topic.  It was recently suggested to me by my son, Sterling, that I try to make at least one home-cooked meal each day.  (How about breakfast, Sterling?  I was thinking oatmeal.)  Challenge!  So remember how much I like carbs?  A burrito seemed harmless and easy.  But what really goes in a burrito?  I had never made one before.  I picked up some tortillas and figured I was off to a pretty good start.  There was turkey burger and lettuce in the frig.  What else could there be?  I googled "how to make a burriot" and got nowhere.  That's because "burriot" and idiot kind of rhyme, and google knew who was asking.  Finally, the "Best Burrito Ever" recipe came up.  It demanded I use rice, beans, onion, avacado, tomato, cheese, sour cream and salsa.  What?  No turkey burger or lettuce?   This was disconcerting as the only ingredient I had on the list was rice.

Rice.  Yes!  I have tons of rice, because I heard on Fox News a couple of weeks ago that the Mississippi flooded all the rice crops in the south--most notably Arkansas--and rice prices were due to soar.  We don't eat rice very often, but better safe than sorry, right?  I bought several large bags which I thought would hold us until the flood water receded and rice prices dropped.   I put the rice on to boil and went to Safeway for everything else.  Bad plan.  Going to Safeway in Estes Park any time between May and December is usually a bad plan.  I got the beans, onion, avacado, tomato, cheese, sour cream and salsa and "dashed" home (as my step-mother would say.)  Too late.  I won't say there was smoke coming out the windows, but the rice was a mass of thick blackness super-glued to the bottom of my Revere Ware.  Oh!  So you should be home when making a home-cooked meal.  Back to the drawing board (remember I have LOTS of rice) and a do-over.  Thirty minutes or so later, Jack and I sat down to the "Best Burrito Ever."  Half-way into it, I commented that it didn't taste that great.   Then we discovered I had forgotten the sour cream and cheese.  Let's face it, I pick way better than I cook.  Back to Lucky 7.

Let's explore 7 a little bit.  The number 7 is called a "lucky prime" and a "safe prime."  7 is the lowest number that cannot be represented as the sum of the squares of three integers.  (Really?)  There are 7 fundamental types of catastrophes.  Only 7?  I can think of three right off:  1.  You arrive at SBux for a much anticipated latte only to discover they have closed 5 minutes earlier.  2.  You arrive at SBux before they close, but they have run out of Pumpkin Spice syrup.  3.  You arrive at SBux, but forget your SBux card, so you have to use your regular card and don't get credit toward your Sweet 15.  See?  There are way more than 7 catastrophes.

Everybody really likes the number 7.  Think about 7-Eleven, 7UP, the 7 Dwarfs, 7 Brides for 7 Brothers, The Magnificent 7, the book 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.   (Haven't read that one yet.)  Then there is James Bond 007, Danica Patrick is NASCAR driver #7, New York Yankee great #7 Micky Mantle, Chicago Bears' George Halas #7, Phil Esposito, NHL Boston Bruins #7, and we'll never forget Denver Bronco's #7 John Elway.  (Bet you never in your wildest dreams thought you'd make it into my blog, huh John?)  Then there's the 7th inning stretch attributed to 27th President William Howard Taft.  (Hmmm...somebody got tired of sitting.)  There are 7 days in a week (aren't you glad?)  7 deadly sins, the 7-branched menorah, 7 seas, 7 Sisters (Pleiades) and some weirdo with 7 fingers on each hand, 7 toes on each foot and 7 pupils in each eye called Cuchulainn.  (He might be deceased.)  Let's face it, 7 is the perfect number.  I don't know about the lucky part.  My brother, John, always used to say, "My luck ran out when I met Jesus."  Amen brother!

So I celebrate the 7-month anniversary of my year-long Pickin' Project.  The first 30 minutes of pickin' this morning were glorious--50 degrees and cloudy.  Windy too, but what's new?  I've got the twist-in-the-opposite-direction-of-the-wind-to-get-my-bag-open thing down solid.  (Don't you feel sorry for "pat" sometimes?)  I picked up a lovely black glove today bringing the total to an even 100.  It's difficult to think about those poor 100 people running around Estes Park minus one glove.  In honor of the occasion, I picked 77 cigarette butts today.  Are you ready for the 7-month total:  12,386.  I'll end with a few encouraging words from a friend of mine:  "Keep pickin' till there's no more trash left in Estes--no ifs, ands or butts!"

Always,
Winter