i was out last night running some errands and bumped into a pregnant woman. she ooo’d and awed over harper, asking tons of questions about her age, what she was “doing”, how she was sleeping, and so on. typical, i’m having a baby and will try to ask you a million and one questions because you have one in your arms and have been, and are, there. which, really, i totally don’t mind. unless it’s over the top, too many questions, too eager a face; you know, the feeling where you know they are mentally categorizing your each and every word to save and re-gurgatate, verbatim, down the road. not many thoughts of her own going on inside that there cranium. that may be harsh but, honestly, it urks me.  

so, when she finally asked me her name i froze. as did everything. like the slow motion action scenes from the matrix kinda freeze. in that instant, i knew she was so into me and the info i was giving her that she was going to steal my name. hanging on each and every word like they were dripping chocolate and sour patch kids (ok, that’s my quirky fetish) i could have said, esmeralda or rosebud or rudulph and that would have been it. that would have been her baby’s name.

in the 32ndof a second that my face went blank and i froze, a thousand thoughts ran through my mind. no way in hell was this lady giving birth to a child and naming her harper. so, i lied. and it happened so easily and effortlessly (right about now, justin is having an “i told you so!” moment remembering a time he always brings up when i lied about our dog getting loose to the passersby she ran towards. i am not a lier but once in a great while an in-correct truth may fall out).

i felt my mouth moving and i heard the words, “hannah”. yes, that’s right. her name is hannah. a perfectly lovely palindrome. she grinned and too-enthusiastically nodded as if to say, that’s it! my baby’s name will be hannah!

well good for you. so glad i could be of assistance. now let’s hope she doesn’t look at the name printed on my debit card. that might get awkward – yes i named my daughter after myself, what of it?

i keep hearing of people naming their daughter harper. either on my own or through others. and it makes me queezey every time. i’m sorry, that may sound neurotic or inappropriate, but so be it. it’s the truth. (i also happen to feel this way about jackson, but since it was not at all “different” when we chose it, i don’t have the same feelings. well, they’re still there just not quite so strong, i suppose).

but enough about the silly lady and her baby, hannah.

after that store we went on to ocean state job lot. holy mother do i love that place. yes, i’m aware it’s 92% complete crap but that other 8% is some seriously good shit. got myself some salon quality shampoo and conditioner for $3 a bottle, a new hallway rug to replace the one that my prednisoned-out dog peed on humpteen times last week (BEST place for kid/dog using rugs, btw), two new oral-b toothbrushes for $1 each and a seriously “off the back of the truck” nalgene bottle for $2.50.

is it just me or do you walk around that place and feel like most of the “goods” were scored illegally? i find myself slinking out to the parking lot and inconspicuously sliding into my car. like as soon i start the engine cruisers are going to surround me with guns drawn and bark loud, scary commands through a megaphone.

well, whatever. my hair is silky smooth today. and all for only $6.

happy wednesday to you and don’t you dare name your kid harper. seriously.