Gone Fishin'

We are getting fish.

Thank you for sharing our great excitement. We've talked about fish for years and have decided that finally, after 12 years of marriage, we are deeply committed enough to one another to withstand the potential trauma and screaming fits involved in selecting, buying, and caring for fish.

Our interest in fish stemmed from (where else?) the cats. We felt the cats were growing bored within the confines of the house and that watching colorful fish with their zigzag movements might provide hours of entertainment that didn't involve us having to wave around a wand with dangling feathers or catnip balls of any sort. Nothing gets me excited like a win-win scenario.

So on Saturday, we drove to Aquamain's Fish World in Greensboro.  We discussed strategy along the way.

"Listen," said Blair. "Don't say anything about us wanting to get fish for our cats."

"Why not?" I asked. "It's not like we're going to feed the fish to the cats."

"I just think that would start us out on the wrong foot," said Blair. "These people really like fish."

"Fine, fine. I won't bring up the cats," I said. "But whatever happened to 'the customer is always right?'"

"That's for people who don't appear initially insane," said Blair.

So we entered Aquamain's Fish World and were immediately struck by the thick, musty, fishy smell places such as these carry. "I'm sure our home will smell nothing like this when we get fish," I said. Blair nodded.

We were pretty set on a freshwater tank as we'd heard saltwater tanks were work to maintain and the fish less hardy. However, the very helpful salesperson serving us pointed out that with today's technology, saltwater tanks aren't substantially harder then freshwater to take care of. Both need 1/4 to 1/2 of their water changed once a month and saltwater requires you mix the salt into the replacement water before adding it to the tank.

 Saltwater fish are so much bigger and brighter than freshwater fish. Now that I know saltwater is within our grasp, I have made it my life's goal to own a puffer fish (Just look at the photo.  The fish is smiling .

I must have a smiling fish).  

Our idea was to start small. Get a small tank with 3 fish and see if we could make it a week without the option of fresh sushi presenting itself in the form of a belly-up Angelfish.

But small is apparently no good. Our salesperson advised to go as large a tank as we can within our budget. Something about larger tanks creating a more stable environment. Whatever. All I know is we suddenly started eyeing 65-gallon tanks with their own stands that combined are bigger than the entertainment  center that houses our TV.

We've decided to take it slow, meaning we'll give it a week--two, tops--before we rush in and make poor buying decisions. Meanwhile, if any of you reading this have any knowledge of the world of fish and freshwater vs. saltwater tanks, now is the time to weigh in with your opinion. Do not tell me I made the wrong decision after we purchase our tank or you will awake one morning with Angelfish sushi on your doorstep.

Fish. The family pet. Stay tuned for exciting developments...

Is Your Self-Image Influenced By the Opinions of Others?

It's been kind of a crappy week.  What's made it a less-than-satisfactory five days are a couple of writing projects that have gone astray. Or rather, the clients aren't happy with what I've given them.

It's nothing tragic and it's certainly fixable.  One project was a bit of a gamble anyway. I was given vague guidelines (they're very concerned with secrecy) and asked to submit only the briefest of outlines. I got excited about the work and rushed ahead and they're not excited about the direction I took. I knew that might happen and in the big picture it's okay. I'll get more info from them, regroup, and resubmit.

What I don't care for is how much of my mood is influenced by getting one "poor" review of my work. And it wasn't even a poor review. They said they liked a lot of what I had, it just wouldn't work for where they were going.  But I have somehow managed to emerge from life with a "I must be perfect at all times" mindset and hearing "This isn't quite right" on this particular project has noticeably altered my mood.

On the bright side, such downswings in mood or self-confidence are temporary. I'm fortunate in that I actually like the person I am and I never stay down for long. When I worked at the Women's Center, I was appalled at how many women really, truly didn't like who they were or felt they had no value. So if they were handed a blow, they took it to heart and it only fed into their belief system that they're not good enough and never will be. I don't have that struggle, thank God. 

But I can be thrown for loops for hours or sometimes days at a time. And it works both ways. If someone praises my work, I'm on a 48-hour high. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with enjoying praise but I'm seeking a little more balance in mood so that I don't get knocked from my center either way.

I think part of my mood is that I really overstretched myself this summer with work, volunteer commitments, writing projects, etc. and I'm exhausted. I've dropped two writers groups, Dale Carnegie ends in two weeks and I've actually said "no" to several people who've asked me take on new projects, both work-related and volunteer. I'm feeling the strong urge to "nest," and just hide from the world for a couple of months and I'm respecting that. This is the first weekend in months where I have no commitments scheduled. An absolutely, 100% free weekend to do with as I please. I don't even know where to start. Sleeping and reading (and running!) sound like a start.

And to end this entry on a high note, here's a tidbit that came across in the end of a long picture e-mail to me. It made me smile so I'm sharing with you today. Have a great weekend!

"Save the Earth... It's the Only Planet With Chocolate"

We Bow to the Supremacy of Our Neighbors - We Are Not Worthy

Well. We got our asses kicked last night. Our neighbors up the street, my running partners, staged a Halloween extravaganza worthy of any Hollywood movie set.

There was a full graveyard, with rickety fences and cobwebs and dark, dangling tree limbs. Eerie green lights cast a ghoulish glow over the yard while also creating deep shadows. A long, narrow, and deep wooden coffin--Dracula style with the blunt edges and almost hexagon shape at the top--housed our neighbor, dressed as the mother of all mummies. Limp, aged rags dripped from her limbs and her face was a mixture of black, purple, and green bruises. SO COOL.

We went with with the witch and pumpkin-head man. Pumpkin-head man is simply a large orange plastic mask that Blair dons along with country clothes. He sits in a rocker and I "stuff" him with straw that pours out of his gloves, shoes, collar, and the buttons on his shirt.  Even up close, he really does look like a stuffed dummy (apologies, dearest) sitting there.  I pass out the candy and then right as the kids walk away, he raises a hand and intones, "Happy Halloooo-weeeen!"

The kids jump, the parents jump. One dad leaped back then started laughing and said, "Man, I thought that thing was fake!" What amused us is that after Blair talked and waved, the kids would still turn to me and say, "Is he real or fake?"

We went through 10 bags of candy, albeit we toss huge handfuls into each kids bag. It's worth it when after we drop the candy in we hear, "WOW--thanks!"

Two of our neighbors played soundtracks, so as kids went up and down the street they heard the sounds of moans, screams, clanking chains, and the loud ominous bongs of a clock. Across the street, a purple tarantula the size of a miniature horse lay in the yard. It's leg were paper mache and every time the wind blew, it picked the legs up and made it appear as if the spider was rearing back of crawling.

Say what you will about safety, there's still something magical about trick-or-treating house to house. It's just not Halloween unless you scare yourself by wondering if maybe some psycho stuck a razorblade in your Three Musketeers.

One bummer note--not a lot of kids walk anymore. A car would park in front of our house and parents and kids would pour out, go to 3 homes, pile in the car to drive 20 yards up the road and repeat. No wonder we're a fat nation.  Kids also didn't automatically say "Trick-or-Treat." They would more often just stick their bag out.

Who cares? I love Halloween. Cutest costume of the night went to a 3-year-old blond-hair, blue-eyed boy dressed up as Woody from Toy Story. He walked up to us grinning, kept grinning as Blair waved at him, and just stood and waved back and grinned. His dad had to pull him back down the walk as he kept grinning and waving. Unbelievably cute.

A lot of kids were a little nervous approaching us, so we're thinking our Sleepy Hollow idea of having them walk through a bridge may be too scary. I'm wondering if we can do a pirate ship and make them "walk the plank" which would be a board about 6 inches off the ground.

Until next year... here's "gouling" at you.

Time Warp & Halloween

Life as a magazine writer is such that I often find myself writing about holidays months ahead of their actual occurrence. Today, for example, I roughed out my humor column for the Florida family magazine I write for. The article is due Nov. 8th but will appear in their Jan/Feb. issue. Hence, references to "recovering from the holidays" and the "already broken promises of the 8-hour old New Year" appear.

It lends a touch of surrealism to life. I'm typically writing about Christmas in August, Halloween in June, and March is a good time to talk up the 4th of July.  I have to wonder if it sets me back, talking about already broken New Years Eve's vows in October--kind of a self-fullfilling prophecy type thing.

Blair's downstairs right now, setting up for Trick-or-Treat for tomorrow night. Sadly, we had to scrap our plans for a recreation of Sleepy Hollow. Our intent was to build a psedo-bridge, record horse hooves eerily clip-cloping in the background, carve leering faces  into at least 3 pumpkins, and then I would dress as Ichabod Crane and Blair as the Headless Horseman. Kids would have to run through the tunnel and survive an attack by the Horseman in order to win their candy (Quit your whining--there are no freebies in life).

But time ran out on us. We had guests this weekend, Blair had hoped to take a 1/2 day on Tuesday and that doesn't look like it's going to happen, and I'm hoping to find time tomorrow to carve one pumpkin, let alone three. So instead we're reviving the popular 1999 theme of "Evil Witch & PumpkinHead Man." We've got the fog machine rigged and ready to blow out "smoke" from beneath the black witches cauldron and Blair poses as a stuffed-looking "fake" scarecrow that scares kids when he comes to life and roars at them.

I spoke with a woman this week who is taking her son to a church "trunk-or-treat." It's in the early evening and only "nice" costumes are allowed.

Poor little bugger. Has no idea of the fun he's missing.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!