For those of you who might possibly have grown up under a strange, deformed, isolated rock somewhere (possibly in Alaska?), “tres” means “three”. Here are some recent threes:
This is the third time I’ve written about this project. Which has now been honors-program approved.
I have three semesters, or equivalent, in which to do it.
This week, so far, I’ve gotten three reminders why I love America:
1. The National Mall. And the adult kickball teams that play on it in the very neon t-shirts also worn by the huge tour groups that clog the Smithsonian and shove you into the displays in the Natural History Museum even though there’s no chance they’ll get lost in their bright blue attire.
2. The strange looks you get when you choose to be a pedestrian during the beginning of rush hour. Like anyone WANTS to be stuck in traffic when they could blister their feet walking, and get stuck waiting for a walk signal for five minutes.
3. The fact that you comb your local library for texts on translation and come up with more than 3,000, none of which are what you need. Most of them are memoirs written by immigrants, the six millionth translation of Don Quijote, and strange Vietnamese children’s books.