Mean Fish Mom

Pissed my oscars off tonight. Eh… it’s for the best, just ask my kids!!! I had just the one Oscar in a 38 gallon tank until about a month ago.

I went to a small business fish store last month and fell in love with an oscar that was probably about 2 years old. Some douche thought he was dead and tried to flush him down the toilet. He was, of course, too big to fit down the drain so was fished out (LMFAO). To captain douche’s surprise, Oscar 2 was not dead after all. He then brought him to a fish guy. I was in said fish guy’s place of business and, like I said, fell in love… With this fish and his story. I had to have him. I have had my Oscar for over 6 years now and was a little concerned about adding this baby to the tank. Not because of my fish but because this baby O had a really “street” attitude! I took the chance and my big O complied. He let the little guy strut his stuff for a while and then put him in his place.

Either way, I got them a bigger home (65) so they have room to breathe but I had to keep them in a bucket while I made the move. It is not small task to drain and break down a 38 AND setup and fill a 65. Also, I wanted to try under the gravel filtration so that was a project all its own. It took me quite a while.

By re-homing time, everyone was mad… More like stressed. Big O was laying down and baby O is shock-white. El Pleco is just lazing about. They seem like they are getting a little better though. I am probably more stressed than they are. I would be devastated if I lost any little fishy.


Match: Day 18

One more day people! I don’t know why I am so excited, I am not turning 13 or 16 or AAEAAQAAAAAAAAdVAAAAJGU0ODNiYTFhLTY5OWMtNGU3NC05Zjg1LTJhNTQ0ZDI5ZGQxMweven 21!

I keep seeing the ad on my Hulu stream and I was just about to text “FREE” to the number so that I can enjoy 7 days of free Match and find a boyfriend for my birthday… but I forget the number to text…

Oh Well… Back to the drawing board.

Dear Diary: You Write Like You Speak

Someone told me, a while ago, “you write like you speak”. I don’t believe this was meant to be a compliment nor was it meant to be a criticism.  Merely an observation? A tiny soundbite to make me think?

This comment popped into my thoughts after I had finished rambling on, in my mind, an observation of my own.

I had been on my back porch enjoying my morning coffee and examining the word love and how it has been used or not used throughout my 34 years of existence.

I attempted to recall my older sisters’ usage of the word and noted my younger brothers frequent conversational ending; “I Love you”. I accepted my own use of the word; multiple times throughout the day with my children and mostly in response to those residing outside my domain.

As I try to scrutinize how three people, who grew up in the same home, with the same parental figures, could have greatly varying practices of uttering this word, there it was… “You write like you speak”.

But why? How did that remark fit into this mental dialog? The fact that this comment lingers in my cranial filing system and has the wherewithal to spring forward, without being summoned, deserves some exploring.

Through all this black and white chatter, strangely, I am left with this thought; be mindful when speaking because words have sticking power.

When your mind moseys…

The smoke detector is chiming in my room and the noise is definitely going to drive me insane. I have been listening to this thing squawk intermittently for about 3 hrs now. I know you’re wondering why I haven’t done something to mitigate the mental damage. The reasons are fairly simple.

  1. I don’t think I have an extra 9-volt battery laying around the house and if I do actually have one, I’m not searching for it anyway.
  2. I can’t just take out the battery disarming and neutralizing the noise because, in truth, the noise is strangely comforting. I was in a house fire when I was 8 and knowing that the alarm is there and active (sort of) makes me feel kind of okay.

With this new, cozy as a blanket, noise around the house my mind won’t quiet. It feels like a mouse is running on a hamster wheel and tossing out idea and thought and idea and thought.

Idea: I should write a rebuttal to “No role Model” because, let face it, there is a reason why it appears as though these women do not want to be “saved”. The things that guys are promoting through their music is that superficial fake faced stuff that these #InstagramModels are trying to accomplish.


You have my full permission to create the rebuttal just please tag me or link me so I can see your work!

Thought: Am I falling into depression? Am I just getting lazy? Is the house too hot? I have been “lounging” around for days, disinterested in doing much of anything and I have been questioning is there is a hint of depression going on or if I just really need a new hobby. They say a body in motion, stays in motion and I have not been moving. Then there is the heat/lazy factor. I have my heat on full blast because I detest being cold or even chilly for that matter. I think I need to move to a warmer climate.

Thought leads to idea: The house is very quiet on the weekends that the boys are with their father. There isn’t even any football to watch. I have been trying to fight becoming totally absorbed in the news of California. All that avoidance and quiet time lead to the idea that maybe I should ACTUALLY get back into the dating world. I have been texting back and forth but nothing of substance and so I am on a mission to find substance.