Eleven

Someone asked me at a bar the other night what my favorite number was and I quickly replied "11". I then asked him "What is your biggest regret in life?" and he asked if I was serious and I said yes and then we proceeded to discuss the number eleven. People are so nosy.

Why 11?

I discovered long ago that when someone is asked to pick a number between 1 and 20, the number 11 is almost always overlooked. I find 11 to be deceptive, close enough to the middle but not at all the middle.  

An eleven-sided polygon is called an undecagon.  

In base ten, an easy way to determine if a number is divisible by 11 is to add up the numbers located in the odd position and subtract the sum of the even-placed numbers.  If the difference is a multiple of 11, the number is also a multiple of 11.  (For example, is 17,589 divisible by 11? : (1+5+9) - (7+8) = 15-15 = 0. 0 is a multiple of 11 (11x0 = 0), and so 17,589 is a multiple).

Stand up for 11, people. It's a great number.

In other news...

The birthday cocktail party was a success!  Martha Stewart was a lovely host and I rediscovered that I am really exceedingly happy when bustling about entertaining, preparing, arranging.  

Entrepreneurship and ownership is very scary.  Hence the avoidance of this "bed and breakfast" that I mention briefly in the Captain Kitchen header. My brother, ever the astute one, was the first to say "I don't get it."  (p.s. happy almost graduation, peabrain). Well here it is:

I was preparing brunch in the beautiful kitchen (r.i.p.) in my old apartment for the final time for two friends who had slept in the orphanage the night before. (I converted one of the bedrooms in my old place into a guest room for the final month and called it the orphanage because it had two twin beds in it). As they continued to sleep, I ran around shopping for produce, brewed a big pot of coffee, squeezed fresh orange juice, whipped up a frittata and home fries and set the table. I felt exuberant, alive. All the while I fantasized about being the proprietor of my own bed and breakfast, awake before your guests and making sure they were treated to a sight to be seen and smell to die for upon entering the world from their pleasant and peaceful slumber. And so, the dream was born. 

I will have to figure out a way to buy my own place. It will probably be illegal. It will take over my entire life. 

I will fulfill my dream. I will meet fascinating strangers. I will make a profit? I will be content.

I should add up the pros and cons, subtract them from one another and see if I get 11.

And so, I set out on my journey of learning how I make home; of being the 24-year-old housewife without a husband; and eventually, not a madame, but the concierge (please tell me you've all seen The Producers). 

Possible name for the bed and breakfast: "The Eleven Inn" ?