The Squeaky Voice is
brought to you today by the number three.
Three- the number
of times in my life I had a Popsicle stuck to my top lip. The first time was
the worst, I was eight or nine years old and my lips were scabbed and bruised
for weeks. The next time was more embarrassing than painful, as I stood at the
bus stop on North Pleasant St. in Amherst, a slightly overweight twenty year
old with a raspberry sorbet popsicle dangling from her upper lip. The third
time was, well, tonight, I set my lips on a Coconut Fruit bar only to get them
stuck there. One will never learn.
Three-the number
of days my kids will be at the Olympic Park Institute on a classroom trip. I
miss them already, but am selfishly enjoying some me time. Tonight blogging and reading. Tomorrow night pedicure, a
glass of wine and a Mad Men marathon.
Three-the number
of weeks Max and I will be on an elimination diet. He had allergy testing done
and has twelve foods he is allergic to. We will eliminate them all for three
weeks and then add them back in one by one (except for spinach, which is too
severe to reintroduce). I feel like he
shouldn’t have to do it alone and so I am going to do it with him, wish us
luck.
Three-the number
of teachers checking kids’ heads for lice on a daily basis. Guess who is one of
the lucky inspectors? Yes, the term nit-picking has new meaning in my life. My
head itches just thinking about it. Oh dear, I hope that’s why it’s itching.
Three-the number
of nightmares I had last night—two of them were about lice.
Three (times two)-the
number of times Six snuck over to the neighbors’ house last week, went through
their doggy door, tracked black muck through their house, got up on their couch
and proceeded to take a nap.
Three-the number
of pounds I have lost on the Flat Belly Diet. It feels good to get back into my
jeans again.
Three-the amount
of drafts I have written for my blog tonight, the first was a full essay on the
dangers of popsicles, the second was about, well not about much really, the
third is this one. I think I liked the popsicles best, but I deleted it.
Three-the number
of weeks Mike has been in Baltimore. I miss him. Only nine days to go! (Note:
Nine is a multiple of three).
Three-the number
of coworkers I have in my classroom. A co-teacher, an intern and an assistant.
They are all wicked awesome. I love my team!
Three (plus
ten)-the number of miles I ran on Sunday as I completed my 14th or
15th Half Marathon!
Three-the number
of weeks I am lobbying for in regards to our Europe trip next summer. (A few days in Iceland, a week in Italy, a
week in France and then wrap it up in Dublin on my 40th birthday to
run another half marathon).
Three-the number
of household members who I miss like crazy right now.
Three- the number
of times I’ve wanted to delete this entire blog entry for its total corniness,
but I’ve got too much invested in it now.
Three slices-the
average amount of pizza I can take down in one sitting (okay should rephrase it to say the average I will
allow myself; truly I could probably take down 5).
Three- the number
of times I have gotten up to look in the mirror at my lip. It looks better than
it feels.
Three-the number
of dumb endings I have come up with and scrapped.
One- the ending I’m
decidedly going with. Good night.
