Sophiecdotes

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.

*

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.