I was born in the seventies. I was born on the seventh day of the seventh month, and I like to pretend that I was born at 8:17 am. Which of course, could also be written as 7:77.

When I was seven, all I cared about were art supplies and Legos. My dad was an artist, so there were plenty of paints and chalks around the house, and my older brothers had passed on their Lego collections to me. I was in seventh heaven.

I don't know about you, but there are seven days in my week. There are seven seas in my ocean, seven continents on my earth, and seven heavenly bodies visible to my naked eye (Moon, Mars, Mercury, Jupiter, Venus, Saturn, and the Sun). There are seven colors in my rainbows, give or take a few hues.

I've indulged in the seven deadly sins throughout my life, but I've also witnessed the seven blessings of a Jewish wedding.

I like Sprite, but I also like 7-up.

If I have a son, he will not be named "seven", but I do have an aunt that is named Nona, which means "ninth" in Latin.

I've seen exactly zero of the seven wonders of the ancient world, zero of the seven natural wonders of the world, but I have seen three of the seven wonders of the modern world.

I recently updated my match.com profile. Under "things I like", I included, "Greg Maddux's changeup, Mark Prior's fastball, and seven-game win streaks." I published this update exactly seven days ago.

There is no number better than seven.

Except eight.