Harperisms

My daughter is pretty much the funniest thing in the world. She says and does the most hilarious things, I thought I'd share a few here.

Yucky Spiders
If you know me at all you know I am absolutely, deathly terrified of spiders. It has gotten slightly less debilitating over the years, but it is certainly not something I want to share with Harper. To help her be normal (that is as opposed to whatever the heck I am), I do things like sing "Itsy Bitsy Spider", read her books in which the protagonist is a spider, and say, when one happens to be in our house,"Oh wow, a spider!" through hidden tears and gritted teeth before I run to the other room, scream into a pillow and ask Tom to kill it.

A couple months ago I was giving Harper a bath and halfway through realized, to my horror, that there was a giant, dead spider floating in her bath water at her feet. I must say, I am rather proud of how calm I stayed. I simply told her it was time to dry off, picked her up out of the tub and began our regular routine to dry off and get PJ's on. However, Harper saw the spider as I was taking her out of the tub and became completely obsessed with it. She said, "Spidah" in this really gruff, annoyed voice, and then "Yucky!" in the same tone. I'd never heard her use this voice before and it sounded pretty frickin' hilarious. You know when Napoleon Dynamite gets frustrated and makes that "UH!" noise right before he says "Freaking idiot"? I would say that's pretty much exactly what it sounded like. "UH! Yucky! UH!" Over and over. Not only that, but she refused to let me dry her off, she had to keep staring at the spider. I finally had to distract her, put one of her bath toys over it, and then tell her it went bye-bye so I could get her PJ's on and get the heck out of the bathroom. I left the water and spider there for Tom to take care of when he got home.

Ever since then she'll call anything that she doesn't know a spider. A piece of yarn on the floor - yucky spider. A booger she just picked from her nose - yucky spider. A few weeks ago I was putting her in her chair for dinner and a small pea had gotten left on her chair and was all shrivelled up. You guessed it - yucky spider. I brushed it off her chair and told here there were no spiders, but she kept pointing on the floor and insisting there were yucky spiders. Halfway through the meal I said "Harper, I don't see any spiders - there aren't any," to which her quick reply was, "It's tiny." The next morning when I sat her in her chair again for breakfast she whispered "Tiny spidahs".

A few days ago after Harper had her breakfast, we went into the living room to play with toys. There was a small stain on the carpet in front of the fireplace that hadn't been there the day before. I said "Uh-oh, what's that?" and knelt down to check it out. Harper did the same, touched it, and said "Spidah poop."


Bye-bye Mickey
For Harper and Erica's birthdays in September we went to Disneyland. She really loved all of it, but I'd say the highlight for her was meeting Mickey right before the fireworks on her birthday. I wondered if she would remember anything from the trip, even short term, but she still talks about "Tee-bell flying" (Tinkerbell), "Dinneylan", and Mickey on a regular basis.

A few weeks ago Harper and I were walking on the sidewalk and I pointed out a low airplane to her. "Airpane, airpane, airpane!" She was jumping up and down, very excited. Then all of a sudden she hung her head, sighed, and said as morosely as possible, "Bye-bye, Mickey."


Happy Crickamacka!
At Costco last week we were surprised to see all of Christmas decorations out. Harper especially loved the small carousel and all the snowmen (which she pronounces snowmeeeeeen). I pointed to a lit Christmas tree and asked her what it was - "A tree." So I told her it's a Christmas tree, and asked if we should put one in our house (this was her absolute favorite thing about Christmas last year). "YEAH!" she said, "A Crickamacka tree!!" I laughed so hard, and in the car the next day I talked about Thanksgiving and Christmas, and what we do on each holiday. I told her Erica was coming for Thanksgiving, and we eat lots of yummy food, and talk about things we like. Before I could get very far on Christmas, Harper yelled "Happy Crickamacka!!!"

"There May Be A Gap..."

I have had an ingrown toe nail for many years now. Sometimes it's super painful, sometimes I don't even know it's there, so I've just put off getting it taken care of. However, about a month ago it was really starting to get bad, so I scheduled an appointment to get it removed when I got back from Disneyland. It was done yesterday and let me tell you, it is extremely disturbing.

I've had lots of crazy medical procedures - three surgeries for endometriosis, 5 cortisone injections in various parts of my back, this horrid nerve test where they stick needles with tiny microphones on the end of them into your nerves and listen to them, not to mention the whole birthing a baby. Yet for some reason, THIS procedure has been horrible for me! Not because it's excruciatingly painful - as long as I don't put a shoe on it really doesn't hurt much at all. Because the thought of a portion of my toe nail being pulled from my toe and ripped from the nail bed is seriously giving me nightmares.

Before yesterday morning I thought they basically numbed your toe, lifted the side of the nail and filed it back a bit. Maybe did some cutting, and then put the chemical on it to keep it from growing. You can imagine my horror when the nurse brought in the tray of tools for the procedure. I'm not sure if pregnancy just makes me a giant wuss, but I literally almost passed out seeing that. Then came the doctor's explanation of the procedure, half of which I think I was blacked out for (trust me, you don't wanna hear it). After the clipping and yanking (and maybe a bit of pee in my pants) the doc said cheerily, "That looks great! There's a bit of a gap between the nail and the skin for now, but that should grow back in nicely....do you want to see it before I bandage it up?"

The actual toe could not have been worse then the images in my head after the "gap" comment, but I graciously declined anyway. The rest of the day went ok - my toe was numb until late last night so physically I felt totally fine. Mentally I was a total wreck. Which, in turn, made me feel even worse for being so upset about a toe nail!

Last night I didn't get a whole lot of sleep. I move around a lot in my sleep, so I kept waking up to shooting pain in my toe when I'd hit it against something (my leg, Tom's leg, the cat, etc.). And then there were the nightmares. At first they were somewhat reasonable and made a little sense - a toe nail extraction gone wrong, lots of blood, giant scalpels. Then they turned into weird cosmetic surgery nightmares - I went in for a routine dermatology appointment and then said to the doc, "Hey, while I'm here, do you think you could tighten up my throat and jawline a bit?" "Oh sure," the doc said, "that'll look great! It's a simple procedure...." Then came her opening up the whole side of my face with no anaesthesia. The whole time I'm thinking Oops, I guess I should have asked how much this will cost, and Crap, how am I going to explain the swelling and stitches to Tom? After waking up from that one I warily went back to sleep to find out that my bill for the surgery was $82,000.

This morning I was already wide awake when my alarm went off. I was thinking about post-surgical instruction #1 - Take of dressing the morning after surgery, apply AmeriGel, re-dress. I had to actually LOOK at my toe. I sat down in the bathroom and got it over with, but the image of the "gap" is forever burned into my brain. I did a pretty good job of not thinking about it while getting ready for work, but an hour later as I'm putting my shoes on, I realize this ain't gonna happen. I try a different pair of shoes...nope. I try completely unlacing my running shoes...uh-uh. They all pushed down on top of the nail...on top of the "gap". After trying to have a coherent conversation with Tom about what I should do (impossible at that hour), I decided to just call my boss and work from home today. Tom worked from home today also to help me with Harper and to help keep my mind off the horrible image. I have been doing ok, but I am just a few hour away from having to reapply the gel and I'm getting very nervous.

No wonder I put this off for so long.

Rest in Peace, Rocky

I am a little late in posting this, but wanted to anyway. Last week my in-law's dog Rocky died, and since I was not in attendance at the funeral I wanted to say a few last words.

Besides Tom, Rocky was the first Worton I met. When Tom took me to his parents house after a few weeks of dating, I was met in the driveway by a most friendly and excited Boxer, a short stub of a stick in his mouth, making it look like he was smoking a cigar. It was more then a little overwhelming meeting Tom's entire family that day, but I was comforted every five minutes or so as Rocky would wander over and nuzzle my hand. Although I'm pretty sure he was just wanting me to throw his slobbery ball for him ("Let's see if the new girl will fall for it").

Rocky was a good dog. When Tom and I got Scout 4 years ago, Rocky was his first friend. Not that he was the first dog Scout met, but Rocky was just patient enough to be his friend. When Scout was about 6 months old Tom and I went on vacation to Banff and Scout stayed with Grandma & Grandpa Worton, and I have to say I actually felt kind of bad taking Scout away from Rocky when we returned. Occasionally we bring Scout up for Sunday dinner at the Worton household, and Rocky always looked genuinely pleased to see Scout. I love Scout to death, but he is a lot to handle - Rocky, however, always took it stride, even the incessant humping (Scout is a confused dog).

Rocky had very loving parents. He was not only a good dog, but a lucky one. One Sunday dinner soon after meeting Tom's family, we had a huge waffle dinner. It is always one of my favorites - we have about 5 waffle irons going in the kitchen, and Michele makes several different kinds of syrup. Melani makes her cheesey eggs, and there's usually a wide variety of meat as well (ham, sausage, bacon, etc.). After dinner I was helping with the dishes and noticed there were a few left over waffles. I asked Tom's dad what he wanted me to do with them and he told me to go ahead and give them to Rocky. I picked up the plate, walked over to Rocky's dish and scraped them into his bowl - "No, no, no!!" I heard from Tom's dad. "That's not how he likes it!" The waffles were picked back up, cut into small pieces, and drenched with syrup. The plate was set on the floor and Rocky came running, his stubby tail wagging.

Like many large breed dogs, Rocky had hip problems. Rocky was beyond middle age when it got too bad to let it endure. There are many dog owners who would simply put their dog down in a case like this. It is sad, but surgeries are expensive. However there was only ever one option for Tom's parents. It didn't matter what the surgery cost (and it cost a lot), Rocky was simply another member of the family - they certainly wouldn't have let one of their children go without a hip replacement if needed, so they weren't going to let their dog go without either. It is comforting to see a dog so thoroughly and unconditionally loved as Rocky was.

The love went both ways though. Rocky was a gift to Tyler when he was in high school. At 19 Tyler left for South Africa to serve a two year mission for church, but Rocky did not forget him. The whole family went to South Africa to pick Tyler up when the two years were up, and after flying home, Tom and I went to his parent's house to pick up our car. Tom and his dad starting hauling Tyler's luggage into the house, and immediately Rocky ran to the luggage and starting sniffing it. He ran around in circles, his tail wagging so hard his entire butt was shaking. It was absolutely adorable.

Rest in peace, Rocky - you were loved by all who knew you.

I Have A Thing For...

There are a lot of things in life that I really love. One might say I have a "thing" for them. For example, I have a thing for shoes. I really can't get enough of them. I like the way they look on my feet, the way they look lined up neatly on my shoecase (like a bookcase, but for shoes), and I like the perfectly folded tissue paper that envelopes a brand new pair in their perfectly sized box.

I also have a thing books. I like a wide variety of genres - mystery, fantasy/sci-fi, biographies, chick lit, essays, poetry. I am protective of my books - I never dog ear, I don't fold back the front part of the book when I'm reading, and I'm always very careful about applying equal pressure along the spine so as not to wear out one part more then another. The bookcases in my house are not only full but overflowing, and although I wish they looked a little neater, I can't help but love the fact that I have too many books.

I have a thing for makeup. The first time I applied makeup on myself I was 6 or 7 and I thought my mom had gone on errands. I grabbed my little sister and we ran into her bathroom and put on as much as we could and admired ourselves. When I heard my mom coming up the stairs and I realized my error, I was terrified of how mad she would be (we really used a lot). Instead she laughed hysterically and took pictures of us. I have been enthralled since that day. I used to sneak lip stick into my backpack in elementary school and put it on when I got there because I knew my mom would make me wipe it off if she saw it. Today I have one bathroom drawer full of makeup and one drawer full of skin care products, plus a bag in my office drawer and stragglers in each purse and/or bag (of which I also have a thing for). If I stopped buying any makeup or skin care products completely today, my stash would easily last me longer then a year. I take samples wherever I can get them, and I have a special compartment in each drawer that holds them. Some of my things I have splurged on, others I bought in bulk from elf.com - each item has a special place in my heart.

I have a thing for my daughter's voice. It is somehow tiny and huge all at once. She talks constantly, some in her own language, some in English (or close to it). Her voice inflections are extremely dramatic and hilarious (anyone who has heard the various ways she says "Oh no!" knows what I am talking about), and she loves to copy sounds she hears - and she does an amazingly good job at it, too.

I have a thing for people who consistently make me laugh. I just finished David Sedaris' most recent book last night and was lying in bed laughing hysterically all by myself. I know this happens to most people who read his books - that is pure talent. Will Ferrel is another one. Tom had never seen the cow bell skit from SNL, so I YouTubed it the other night and watched it with him. It always amazed me how he never broke down and laughed or even cracked a smile while delivering his lines while he was on SNL. The rest of the set could be buckled over in hysterics and he is the only one still giving his lines (and making everyone else on the set laugh even harder...see, for example, any one of the Jeffrey's skits). More examples are Jon Stewart (and anyone on his show, past or present, including Stephen Colbert and Steve Carrel), the gang from Scrubs, the gang from Arrested Development, Richard Jury & Melrose Plant, all the members of my family, and Rick Astley. Ok, so that last one isn't intentionally funny, but if you've ever been rickrolled, you've seen the guy dance and come on - that is classic.

The other day on the train I heard a woman in the seat across from me tell the woman next to her what she has a "thing" for. I was reading my book and trying hard to block out the conversations around me, but this woman's was really hard to block. She was complaining about her job, and the woman next to her, who worked for the King County police department, told her she should look into any openings that they might have. The Complainer got extremely excited and told her friend she would "just die" to work for the police department. Another woman in their foursome (who had been quietly listening until now) said, "Really? Why's that?" And The Complainer said, quite loudly, "I have a thing for serial killers."

Come again?

It was like a reflex when my head snapped around to look at her - and I noticed that I certainly wasn't the only one. I would have loved to hear a further explanation, but the three women around her all looked down into their laps and stopped talking. Understandably. The Complainer had been knitting, so she simply picked up her yarn again and continued on. I stared at her for a good five minutes wondering what could possibly be going through her mind, then even tried to follow her off the train to see how she walked, where she was going, or if there were any other indications of psychosis. There wasn't, which made me even more intrigued. I guess you could say I have a thing for people who have things for serial killers.

Where's My Glow?

Tom and I decided at the end of May that we wanted another baby. When we decided that the first time it took about two years before we actually had one, so you can imagine our surprise when two weeks later I saw two little pink lines. I hadn't even had time to come to grips with the fact that I had actually agreed to do the whole morning sickness, back pain, cankles, heart burn, etc., all over again before I actually started going through it. Granted this one has been an absolute breeze compared to the first, but that isn't to say that I haven' t been without a few puking and fainting sessions.

Two days ago Tom hauled out my boxes of maternity clothes from the garage and I went through them all and started washing out the garage smell. I have been a little lucky this time in that up until last week I still fit into most of my regular sized clothes, probably because I walk quite a bit during the week when I work - last time I was on bed rest for a majority of my first trimester, so I gained a LOT of weight just sitting around and eating. However, this week the "regular" clothes are definitely not happening, so I was pleasantly reminded about one of the few really great things about pregnancy - elastic waist pants.

Sitting in my stretchy pants, I thought about some of the other good things about being pregnant. From the last time, I remember having shiny, thick, bouncy hair, glowing skin, and super strong nails. I looked down at my nails and realized that I do have really strong nails - usually mine crack and break, but they've been amazing. However, I most certainly do NOT have shiny, thick or bouncy hair, and there is definitely NO glow. Where's my glow?? This is extremely disappointing. I can only hope that it is just too early, and that the sparkly hair and glowy face is still to come.

The Convicts

Typically my morning and afternoon train rides are delightfully uneventful. I bring my book, I read, I sometimes fall asleep. Lately I have had to concentrate a little harder on not puking, but other then that it is simply a faster, greener, less stressful way for me to get to work. And I love it.

Once when Harper's babysitter was out of town my mom watched Harper for us and because of Tom's weird schedule I had to drive her up to Renton and then take the bus into Seattle from Renton. I thought nothing of it, having ridden plenty forms of public transportation in this city and others, but it was HORRID. It smelled like cigarettes mixed with puke mixed with BO mixed with marijuana - a deadly combination for anyone, let alone a morning sickness -prone pregnant woman. The giant woman sitting "next" to me was actually mostly ON me, and the couple across from me was openly discussing whether or not they should include me in their orgy that weekend. The bus goes up and down hills, bounces around, stops every 22 seconds, and is pretty much a freak show on wheels. Oh, and no AC.

Later on I decided that the people on the bus were actually a lot more interesting then the people on the train, just the train itself is better. It's cool on a hot day, warm on a cold day, smooth, fast, stops only 4 times, is never bouncy, and there's always plenty of room (i.e., no one will sit on me). So today, imagine my great delight and surprise when three women convicts got on at the Kent station and discussed in detail their various cell mates, booking experiences, court cases, and favorite drugs. What a perfect day to forget my book! I was sitting right in front of them, so I couldn't see them and it was totally killing me. I changed seats halfway to Tukwila with the excuse of wanting to stretch my legs and got a good look at them all and even got to talk to them a few times.

So just in case any of you go to prison, here are a few helpful hints from the Sounder Convicts:

1) Try not to say the "f" word in court. They're not sure why, but the judges don't like it.
2) When they (inevitably) book you, make sure you start fights with anyone and everyone you possibly can. It will make your booking time longer (up to 13 hours), but it will be worth it that night when you can sleep soundly because everyone has by now heard of how crazy you are and will all keep clear.
3) Do NOT steal anyone's Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, especially if it's the last one. You WILL get cut.
4) Purdy is by far the best prison to go to.
5) If your cell mate is a "2lbs meth addict", make friends with her and protect her from the other inmates. Good things will happen to you on the outside.
6) If your cell mate is a 400lbs beast who hasn't washed her hair in five years and farts in her sleep, do not make friends with her. Nothing good will happen.

I Need a Hairmet

For the last six months or so Tom and I have been coming up with several creative ideas on how to sucker someone into buying our SUV. However, no one is as dumb as we are, and we have therefore had no bites. And while I'm pretty sure last Sunday was the first (and only) time we've ever actually hauled something with it, I have to admit that I really love this car. It was an absolute life saver when I was preggers - if you have never been 9 months pregnant you'll just have to take it from me that it is 100% impossible to get in and out of a car by yourself, but getting in and out of the Jeep was a breeze. Just lean your butt on the seat, scooch it back, swing your legs in. Granted I still kind of hoped no one was watching when I was doing this, but it was far better then the time I got stuck in my friend's Civic. That is a story for another day (i.e., never).

Anywho, since filling up the Jeep tank costs roughly the amount of my mortgage, I only drive to the train station and back (and when we need to haul something, like that one time 4 days ago). I take one of the later trains from Puyallup, which does not have a parking garage, so I usually park about 5 blocks away and hike it back to the station. Because of this I leave my house a half hour before the train leaves, even though it takes no more then 15 minutes to get there, because I have to allow for those days that my usual spot is taken, and the 5-7 minute walk back to the train station (depending on how awake I am that morning).

These last few weeks while walking back to the station and standing in line I have found myself staring longingly at the mint green Vespa parked with the bikes about 10 feet from the train line. Not only can you go 900 miles on its tiny tank of gas, you don't have to drive around frantically looking for a parking spot, run 5 blocks to the train if your usual spot was taken, but they're also extremely cheap and cute to boot.

(You might not be able to tell, but this is actually a very beautiful dark purple)

The normal arguments went through my mind and were quickly discarded: What about winter? They're so cheap it would be worth it to just drive it in the summer, even in a Seattle summer, which is the last two weeks of July and most of August. What about Harper? I'd just drive home from the train station in the evenings and walk to her babysitter's to pick her up with the stroller, it's probably less then 1/4 mile from my house. What about getting groceries, etc? I'd just plan better and only go shopping on the weekends while Tom's not using the regular car. However, there is one argument that I just can't get around. Helmet hair. Maybe if my hair was straight, or it was the kind of curly where it's always beautiful and bouncy no matter what you do to it (these curlies are rare because real curlies like me usually kill them in a jealous rage), but if I put a helmet on my head I will pretty much be guaranteed a flat, frizzy mess for the rest of the day.

What I need, peoples, is a hairmet a la JD on Scrubs. So if anyone can find me one, I will be extremely happy. So happy that I might give you ride on my purple Vespa.

Prince Eric

I would like to officially grant the title of Best Disney Prince to Prince Eric (of Little Mermaid for those not in the know). I have actually thought long and hard about this decision, and I am confident that you will agree with me. Following is the proof.



1. Personality. With the possible exception of Aladdin, Eric has the best personality out of all the Disney princes. However, Aladdin is hereby disqualified from this point because he is the main character of the movie, so of course he has some personality. Prince Eric was a supporting character, and when compared with princes like Prince Phillip (Sleeping Beauty), Prince Charming (Cinderella), and the prince from Snow White (he didn't even have a name, how can you expect a personality?), I believe you will see my point.

2. The castle and kingdom. After extensive googling I still can't seem to nail down the exact location of Prince Eric's kingdom, but I have always assumed it was somewhere in the French Mediterranean. This in and of itself is enough to win over this point, but let's look at a few other things. If the movie is an accurate portrayal of everyday life in Eric's kingdom, everyone is happy and nothing bad ever happens. It is a sunny, lush, and beautiful village in the South of France (again, I'm assuming this, but I'd say it's a pretty good assumption based on the scenery and some of names and accents of the characters). Let's compare this to a few of the other Disney movies: In Sleeping Beauty there is an evil sorceress who casts spells willy-nilly and generally wreaks havoc on the villagers, including putting them all to sleep for 100 years. In Snow White there is an evil queen who is well versed in witchcraft and preys on innocent, unsuspecting young women who are prettier then she is. Granted the seven dwarfs almost make up for this, but not quite. In Cinderella the government obviously lacks any sort of social services, as Cinderella was kept a slave in her own home without anyone else in the village ever noticing or caring. In Aladdin the Grand Vizier (I believe he is second in command) is an evil sub-human sorcerer who can easily hypnotize the Sultan (who seems well-intentioned if a bit dim-witted) and take control over the country....wait....why does that sound familiar?

3. The in-laws. At the beginning of the movie, King Triton believes all humans are "spineless harpooning fish-eaters", and the possibility of Eric dying in a ship wreck would merely mean "one less human to worry about." However, once seeing how much his daughter loves Eric, and after Eric saves the day by killing the sea witch and setting all her weird sea-weed prisoners free (including King Triton himself), he gives Ariel a permanent set of legs and lets his daughter go be happy with Eric. Triton and several other mermaids and mermen come to Ariel and Eric's wedding, and at the end Triton makes a rainbow for the occasion, and respectfully bows to Eric. Eric not only has a father in law who is willing to see the error of his ways, but Eric himself was willing to accept Ariel even when her father would rather see him dead. Now for the in-laws on the other side - although Eric seems to be an orphan and only child, he does have Grimsby (an uncle? A close friend? A political advisor? Not sure...), who may be rather old and crotchety, but let us not forget that he liked Ariel from the start, and helped Eric see his true feelings for her.

4. True love. At sunset of the third day, Ariel turns back into a mermaid to the utter surprise and shock of Prince Eric. However, this doesn't put a damper on his feelings one bit, and he still swims out to sea and risks his life to save Ariel and all the other merpeople. At this point Eric has no idea that it's even possible for him to be with Ariel, as he obviously can't live underwater and Ariel can't live on land, but all he cares about is Ariel being safe and happy.

I believe that is sufficient evidence for the title. There are probably a few things I am overlooking, so if you can think of anything please let me know.

P.S.

In googling "google founders" for my last post, I was able to learn who the entire board of directors and executive management group is. A Mr. Urls Holzle (two dots above the o, which I am unable to accomplish in anything other then Word, even with extensive googling), has not only the coolest name ever, his job title is "Senior Vice President, Operations & Google Fellow".

My new goal in life: Become a Google Fellow.

I Did It All By Myself

I transformed my ugly pink/maroon monstrosity of a blog into a beautiful Monet painting all by myself. And by "myself, I obviously mean I googled "blogger templates" and followed the step by step instructions on the pages it brought up.

I honestly wonder how we lived before google. In high school I had to go to the library to do research for a paper or project. Just last week I finished an entire research paper without ever leaving the comfort of my office or cracking a single book. I did have to enlist the help of my lawyer sister to get an article that was only available in a law database, but I originally found out about the article through google scholar. And to prove that google is every bit as beneficial as the library, I got a 97% on my paper. I will be sure to thank Larry Page and Sergey Brin* in my graduation speech.**

*I googled "google founders"
**I am not giving a graduation speech

The Move

Because I want to be cool like the other kids, I've moved to blogspot. So now you can read all about my life (or my daughter's life, since that's usually what I blog about), without having to go to blurty. You should take those few extra seconds I saved you and tell me how to make my blogspot look presentable (i.e., less pink).