42

It's a number I've been seeing a lot lately.

Thanks to pop culture, I know Douglas Adams wrote that 42 was the answer to life, the universe and everything. I've never read a Douglas Adams book, but I know that. It's like some sort of societal osmosis. 

The Australian Red Cross Blood Service have recently launched a wonderful campaign about the number 42. It shares that the red blood cells inside donated blood only lasts for 42 days. It's a pretty awesome concept, which asks you to be life, the universe and everything to someone else. Bizarrely, I have only just started giving blood again. My donation on February 20th this year was my first one in about five years, I reckon. I've now become a plasma donor, as my veins are apparently awesome, and my blood flow rocks. 

Rhones and I recently saw Jackson Browne at the Leeuwin Estate concert last weekend. When I went to get us some eats from a local vendor, the ticket number I was given was 42. The concert was on March 24th...42 backwards.

Today would be called 4/2 in the US, rather than 2/4, as the rest of the world notates.

42 was the age that my mother would have been the year she died. She was only two and a half months away. 

42 is how old I am at the time of writing this blog. I've been 42 for about 60 days now. How weird would that have been if I'd been 42 for 42 days?!?! You can't have everything, I guess.

Not sure what it all means, but I'm finding an odd comfort in the number.