Five

I know five isn't typically considered sacred.  Seven, twelve and forty get a lot of holy mention and I accept their awesome place - days of the week, number of months, days in the dessert, etc.  I want to mull a number that turns up divine for me all the time, five.

Dictionary.com offers five entires in the wonderful definiton of five.
1.      a cardinal numer, four plus one
2.      a symbol for this number, as 5 or V
3.      a set of this many persons or things
4.      a playing card, die face, or half of a domino face with five pips
5.      (informal)  a five-dollar bill

What is five for me? 

The number of people in my household both growing up and at present.  I swore I would have an even number of kids so my family would have an even number of members.  Didn’t work out. 

Five is the time period in minutes offered by mothers to warn their children that it is almost time to go, time to eat, time for bed, whatever Mommy says should happen.  This set of five minutes comes from a desire to keep to the child-rearing protocol of allowing lead time into transitions.  Hypothetically providing lead time into transitions makes them easier.   

Five is also the age in years at which a child begins to figure out the arbitrary meaning of five minutes when Mommy announces it.  Mommy minutes often have a wide range of durations.

Five is the number of pounds I am storing in my thighs in case of emergency.  I am giving myself this idea about “smart storage” because, really, it is the number of pounds I estimate that I am unwilling to give up entirely chocolate cake or Waffle House to lose.

The number of miles over the posted speed limit I feel I can drive safely without worry of losing control or being ticketed by a police officer is five.

Toes per foot and fingers per hand.  These remarkable digits are capable of dexterity from birth to one year that fades over time and is never again matched.  Serioulsy, watch the individual movement of a newborn’s toes – amazing!  Seems once we learn to walk toes need to work as a team.

The number of work or school days in a standard American week.  

Five is the magic number of minutes everyone claims to need before getting out of bed.

The number of Krispy Kreme glazed donuts a person should know is probably one too many to digest comfortably, really.

The number of steps beyond which I will likely deem a recipe not worth the trouble.

Cards needed in a standard poker hand.

The number of hours past my usual time I am writing today!  Seems I had a languid holiday morning with my family and gave myself five mommy minutes more to sleep, then to eat and another set to get started on my blog.