So we have this turtle on our bookshelf. She lives above such titles as Bad Boys, At Home in the Street, and Pricing the Priceless Child. If you've read these books (and I haven't), you know that they're depressing (I assume).
The turtle's name is Harper. Like Harper Lee. I like To Kill A Mockingbird. I'm sure it's better than the books surrounding Harper the turtle. She's silently superior. That's at least half true. She's silent. I have yet to learn what a turtle sounds like. If someone put a gun to my head and asked me what a turtle sounds like, I would gurgle because that's the noise that the filter on her tank makes.
You may or may not have heard the rumor that I don't like Harper. This rumor is in fact false. I have already spent at least four hours on her Christmas gift and tonight is only the first fake Christmas eve of 2011. She will be very surprised.
Some (*ahem C, A, K, S*) think I tried to give Harper a heart attack. Not entirely true. I merely poked the plastic of her tupperware (she has since upgraded to a glass aquarium) and asked if it was possible for her to have a heart attack. In a loving, concerned way. It's always good to know what is possible. Prevention is the best medicine.
Peace. And Happy First Christmas Eve to the two people who may eventually read this.
-E
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