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Archive for the ‘Makes Me Laugh’ Category

So, we posted an ad on Craigslist recently on our house, and got our first email response yesterday:

—– Original Message —–
From: “Julie Rose”
To:
Sent: Wednesday, June 13, 2007 12:04 PM
Subject: RE:Home on 1.25 Acres

Hello,

I find this ads interesting and would love to acquire this property as an
additional assets. I dont know when it will possible for me to come check up
this property because i am a busy person. Anyway, I would love to hear back
from you as to how the acquisition will be carried out.

Thanks

Julie
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Um, sure “Julie”. I think I’ll just respond to you so that you know my real email address and can bombard me with a bunch of spam mail. But on second thought, maybe I won’t because I, too, consider myself to be somewhat of a busy person, and would rather you didn’t. (Good thing Craigslist acts as a middleman and forwards messages on to keep your email private.) Does anyone actually ever respond to such obviously generic inquiries? And how come no one ever taught her how to use the plural tense. I think Sophia would even know better than to say “this ads”.

As if trying to sell your house wasn’t complicated enough!

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Sophiecdotes

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Well, I told you that Sophia started saying “shoot” when she drops something, or knocks something over, or pretty much makes any kind of mistake. Lately, though, she’s adopted another of Mama’s words: goodness. Sometimes even coupled with “gasha” (gracious). She was cooking in her kitchen the other day, and happened to inadvertently dump a cup full of raisins behind the unit, which was backed up to the wall. She immediately scooted it forward and knelt down saying, as she picked them all back up, “Goodness. Oh, goodness gasha!” She said the same thing to me the other day after I accidentally hit my arm on something as I was walking by. “Oh goodness Mama,” and she gave it a kiss.

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ย This one requires a bit of background… Valdez is known for it’s yearly Pink Salmon Run, in which, every summer, millions of pink salmon return to the banks near our local hatchery to release their eggs and die. The smell, especially to “new noses”, is horrifying and will give you reason to just skip eating altogether on any given day. On windy days here at work (as I work right right near the shore), I’m often sabotaged by the smell as I roam around outside taking an inventory of equipment, or putting new tags on DOT trucks. When you are hit with the smell, your breathing automatically ceases, and you mentally count the steps to the nearest building or automobile that may serve as your sanctuary. Trust me, I’ve been there. The only time the smell is completely gone is in the winter when everything is frozen. Which means that while spring is approaching, and everything starts to defrost, well, so do the old pink salmon remains. Some time last week we drove over the mud flats (one of the fishy areas) and I looked up into the rear view mirror and said, “That’s pretty stinky, huh?” She looked up at me from her car seat. “That old fish smell,” I said, “is pretty ucky, huh?” She put on a look of defense and irritation and said, “No ucky! Goldfish yummy!” “But that old fish smell, that’s gross.” I tried again. “Goldfish no gross!” she protested, as if I was insulting her best friend in the world. “Okay, but I’m not talking about Goldfish Crackers – that dead rotting fish smell, that’s gross.” There was no answer. Apparently she had given up on me.

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Sophiecdotes

I’m home this week and next and have been enjoying my time immensely with this little funny girl of mine. She’s getting more verbal every day, although we don’t always understand what she’s trying to get across…

Just the other day, she mumbled something that both Isaac and I didn’t understand, and then she started to crack up so hard. When we asked her why she was laughing, she said, “Sophia funny!”

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Well, if that was her first joke, then here’s her first “understandable joke”: she finds it extremely funny to call us by each other’s names. For example, when I ask her to comply with whatever it is I’m saying to her with a “Yes, Mama”, she’ll say, “Yes, Papa” and start to giggle. She does the same thing to Isaac by saying “Yes, Mama” to him.

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But, with her increasing verbal skills, she’s also able to express more sorrow and dismay. Like the other day after we went to tot-swim in town and then visited Isaac at the school for lunch, we turned onto the main road heading out of town, and Sophia said, “No home yet!” Poor thing – she just didn’t want the fun to end.

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When I was pregnant with Sophia, not a minute went by where I wasn’t conscience of the fact that I was pregnant. Conscious of the fact that a living person was growing inside of me – bigger by the second. This time around it’s a little bit different. There are actually moments where I all of a sudden remember that I’m pregnant.

In the past few days, what I’ve been experiencing has brought me to the conclusion that even if I don’t dwell on it every second, I somehow always have a way to remind myself of my current state. So I came up with a mini you-know-you’re-pregnant-when list.

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You know you’re pregnant when…

You start to type a list of something and forget totally what you were going to say. ๐Ÿ™‚ (That just seriously happened.)

Ok, I remember. Your dreams of a “scary man” are so vivid, that you’re kicking yourself your entire way to work for not checking the back seat before getting in, because now you’re sure he’s sitting right behind you, being all creepy and scary. And all you can do is grip the wheel really tight and try to get there faster.

When, in the course of 10 minutes, you spill your hot chocolate all over the counter at work, which rushes under the microwaves and popcorn machine (impossible to clean, I assure you); slam your hip into your desk really hard on your way back into your office; drop your pen 3 times before finally securing it in hand in order to write yourself a to-do note; realize you forgot to refill your post-it dispenser; and then slam your other hip on your desk leaving your office to go to the supply cabinet.

You cry at the end of a radio episode of Paws and Tales (it was a really touching one, though, about C.J.’s dad defending “the mule”).

You forget for the fourth day in a row that you wanted to load new pictures onto your blog when you get home from work, and end up going to bed earlier than the night before because 1. you’re exhausted, and 2. you learned today that 8 hours and 23 minutes of sleep just isn’t enough.

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HAPPY ST. PATRICK’S DAY!

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Sophiecdotes

I swear this girl gets funnier by the second.

It’s been really windy, dry, and cold here in Valdez the past 3-4 weeks. This morning as I walked from the house door to the car door, I smelled something I haven’t smelled since we moved here: static. And it does have a smell. I remember figuring out as a small child what it was, and since then, I’ve placed it in the group of “smells I dislike the most”. It’s hard to explain – and Valdez is usually such a wet place, even in the winter – but that moisture has been sucked out of here, leaving us with static. Needless to say, it’s been somewhat of a chore to venture outside these days. But I do it, and when Isaac’s not at home to keep Sophia inside, she goes with me – all bundled up from head to toe in her stroller. Tuesday was my first day back at work, and one of the first questions Isaac asked her that morning was if she’d like to go outside. “No!” she said. When he asked her why, she said, “Too COLD!” It’s really not her fault she has a mother with such a strong desire to go outside everyday, even in this weather.

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Last week, we had our second Prenatal Appointment at the clinic. Sophia intently watched as the doctor and a medical student visiting from New York rubbed goo all over my belly with the sonogram machine. It took a while, but they found a heartbeat. One of the most beautiful sounds in the world. I don’t think Sophia knew what to listen for, but the steady swish-swish-swishing was there, right between 160 and 170 beats per minute. The doctors left for a few minutes, and immediately, Sophia wanted “Up, up!” onto the examining bed. She lay herself back onto the crunchy paper pillow and sheet, lifted up her shirt all the way to her chin, pointed at the machine they had left on the counter while rubbing her belly, and asked, “Sophia baby tummy?”

She’s somehow convinced she has one in there, too. ๐Ÿ™‚

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Last night, while we were busily doing our bills on the couch in the living room, Sophia roamed from here to there, playing a little of this and a little of that. Obviously we were a little too entranced in our work because at some point, she was all of a sudden right behind us, sitting in a chair at the table right behind the couch. I had a bowl of fancy “tea chocolates” up there, and Sophia found one that she wanted to open. By the time I saw her with chocolate in hand (she chose dark chocolate – just like her mama would), she already had it unwrapped. “Sophia, what have you got there?” I asked in my I-already-know-what-you-have-so-you-better-just-hand-it-over tone. “Trash,” she said, as she, in one smooth movement, handed the wrappers to me with one hand, and popped the chocolate in her mouth with the other.

Let the record show that I did make her throw away her own trash.

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Sophiecdotes

I can’t believe it’s already March! Here are a couple of things that have kept me laughing and shaking my head in amazement this week.

After being picked up from the sitters house a couple of days ago, Sophia sat in the truck waiting for Isaac to get situated before driving away. Isaac could hear her talking to herself in the back seat, when all of a sudden she said, “Oh, oh, oh!” and then “Sssssssss, Ohhhhhhhh, two, ssssss, ohhhhhh, two”. Not knowing what she was trying to say, he looked back and saw that she was pointing in the direction of the next house down, which was number 502.

What a little smarty.

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Last night during dinner, I was attempting to get Sophia to eat a bite of her asparagus, which she clearly did not want to do. At first she shook her head back and forth, and then moved her head as far away from the fork she could in the opposite direction, and then, finally, she went limp and hung her head so that her chin rested on her chest, closed her eyes and quietly said, “Peep,” which is how she says “sleep”.

At least she’s creative about it. ๐Ÿ™‚

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Sophiecdotes

Sophia has learned how to open the blinds in the living room. I haven’t seen her actually do it yet, as it’s usually dark by the time I get home, but I did get to “hear” her doing it this morning. I was on the phone with Isaac when suddenly he admitted that Sophia just caused him to flash the neighborhood in his boxers. Luckily no one was walking by at the moment, and we have no neighbors across the street from us, so he wasn’t ever really in much danger to begin with. It was still a crack up, though.

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Some of you have heard this story, I know, but I really love it. A couple of weeks ago I was pushing Sophia home from our neighbor’s house (who lives over 1/2 mile away) and it was pretty chilly. A little windy, too, especially as we hit the portion of the walk that is the side of the highway. I had a little baggy of apples that she asked for, so I took them out of my pocket and she immediately tore off both gloves in preparation for eating them. There were about 8 pieces in all, and once she only had one or two left she looked up at me, and then back down at her little red hands, and said, “Warm all gone.” As if it’s just a fact of life: sometimes hands are warm in gloves and other times they’re exposed to the freezing air. My little Alaskan baby….

By the way, I thought you all might want to see how long Sophia’s hair would be if it wasn’t SO curly!

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Cookies High and Low



She probably would have put just about anything in there if I had let her. But she sat so patiently, waiting for me to hand her the next spoon or cupful of this and that. When it came time to add the raisins, though, she was surprisingly very stingy. At first she only wanted to put 4 in, but I convinced her that she would be helping to devour these little morsels of goodness with the rest of us, and eventually I think she got the point that the raisins weren’t going to be wasted.

Last night we had kind of a different eating experience with her. She woke up from her nap at around 6:00 p.m. and informed us that she would not be eating anything for the rest of the evening except for jell-o. This is how she did it: After she refused to eat her salad and pasta alfredo, she asked to be let down from her chair and go to the couch. Well, a few minutes later I had prepared myself a bowl of jell-o and left it on the counter momentarily to see what it was Isaac was trying to tell me, then I turned around to find the jell-o about 2 1/2 feet lower than it had been, trying to leave the kitchen in the hands of a little thief.

She does this every once in a while. Like the time I was so intently crocheting on the couch that the only definite fact in my head about Sophia was that she was in the same room as I. Upon hearing a “crunch, crunch, crunch” I looked up to see her enjoying a few chocolate hazelnut sticks that Isaac had left on the coffee table. I took them away and said a cheery, “All done!” and put them up on the counter in the kitchen. A few minutes later my work was again interrupted by this same girl asking me to please help her open the container of lemon gumdrops in her hand. Where she got them, I don’t know, but I put them up in one of the cupboards and continued crocheting. Not 10 stitches later did I hear the all too familiar “crunch-crunching” coming this time from the kitchen. Sophia had taken it upon herself to climb up into one of the stools (which I didn’t know she was capable of at the time) and partake in a few more of these delicious little chocolatey sticks. When she realized she was caught, she managed to shove two more in her mouth before I could get the container away. And then do you know what she said? “All done!”

My mom tells this one story about how when I was a little younger than Sophia, she saw me walk past her with one of my books into the pantry. She then saw me come back out – no book in hand – and walk straight to where my books were to grab another, and another, and another. Finally, she followed me into the pantry and watched me put the next book on the stack of previously carried books on the floor, step up onto it, and reach up to see if I was close enough to the cookie jar to be able to reach one. She said I still had about 50 books to go before I ever would have reached it. What determination kids have, eh? Especially when it comes to sweets. What I’ve never asked her before, though, was whether or not I got a cookie for my efforts. Well, Mom?

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