Scott: So, Sullivan what laws of physics do you know?
Sullivan: Newton’s laws of physics!
Éa: Nudists know all physics?
He’s such a dick! No offense, Scott.
— Carla, c. 2005, while watching The Last of the Mohicans, presumably referring to Magua
Sullivan: Was there a time when doctors recommended smoking?
Carla: Maybe somebody recommended it at some point, I don’t know.
Scott: Certainly not since the ’50s.
Sullivan: The ’50s haven’t even come yet, people!
Scott: We’re talking about the 1950s, Sullivan.
Your bellybutton looks a bit like Moshulu’s butt.
— Sullivan, comparing Scott’s navel to our calico’s anus
Scott [after Carla suffers a seemingly neverending sneeze attack]: What is your body trying to get rid of?
Carla [sniffling]: My face.
You know what Miss Leigh calls a picture? “Pitcher.” Picture. Pitcher. She’s a very complicated woman.
— Éa, on a quirk of her teacher’s pronunciation
Dad! In heaven, I bet that don’t have any rifles.
— Sullivan, without prompting, while being towed along through Spring Creek Park on a snow saucer
Carla: Sullivan, you have to take a shower. I don’t want to hear any more whining about it. Get in there.
Sullivan [walking away into the bathroom]: Aw, maaan! Fuck. Fuck fuck.
Carla: Sullivan, what did you just say?
Sullivan: Haha! I didn’t want to say “shucks” so I disguised it by saying “puck”—or no wait: “fuck.” Yeah, that was it.
Romance has been this sort of…odd side project for us.
— Scott, in a large campfire discussion at his tenth wedding anniversary party of how friendship is the basis of his and Carla’s relationship
“I’m as warm as a peacock!”
— Éa [context forgotten]
Scott: What would life be like without screens?
Carla: Buggy.
[pause]
Scott [slightly annoyed]: Could you just answer the question, please?
[pause]
Carla [gathering what he meant]: Well, we know what life would be like without screens. We didn’t have screens the first year of our marriage.
Scott: What did we DO?
Carla: We fought.
Carla: Are you ready for your [chickens] meeting tonight?
Scott: Yeah, it’s just a brainstorm and catch-up meeting.
Sullivan: Ketchup? Ketchup is for eggs. Ketchup? Ketchup is for eggs.
Scott [discussing trends in interior design] : Our culture…we highly prize…clean.
Carla: Yeah…it’s disgusting.
The wind and snow were whipping around my house like a SNOW-NADO!
— Sullivan in his weather journal for school
Mommy, I love music more than chocolate chips, more than cookies, and more than princesses and beautiful ponies.
— Éa on hearing Vanhal’s Double Bass Concerto in E flat major on WPSU in the car with Carla
Carla: He looks like the beggar at the Beautiful Gate.
Éa: Who?
Scott: One of the people Jesus healed. One of many.
Éa: Killed?
Scott: HEALED.
Carla: And THAT. is why I don’t want our children to read Bible stories yet.
Carla [upon delivery of Éa’s dessert at Sips Bistro]: Bon appétit!
Éa [correcting her]: Bon appé-YUM!
I do not use trash cans as places to store stuff any more.
— Scott, defending himself when challenged to report why the children’s not-yet-empty toothpaste was sitting in the garbage
Carla: Oh my God, living with you is like living in a legal document!
Scott: Oh my god, living with you is like living in oatmeal!
Scott: Éa, would you mind if I put on some tunes?
Éa: Yeah.
Scott [to clarify]: Should I put on some tunes?
Éa: Yeah.
Scott: Any objections anyone?
Éa: Tunes! But don’t put on any objections!
I want one of those ballet shirts with a butt and a labia.
— Éa, in reference to buying a leotard
Scott: Sullivan, I’ve been meaning to talk with you about your reading habits.
Sullivan: You’ll never stop me.
Éa: [making small talk] What’s your Stilson?
Lindsay: Pelz. [the correct answer]
Carla: [playfully flicks dishwater at Scott]
Scott: What did I do to deserve that?
Carla: You married me.
Hey, it was definitely hard, but I really enjoyed spending time with you this evening.
— Scott, to Carla