The Sad Tale of Tuna the Fish

This is the sad (entirely true) story of Tuna the goldfish.

Last week, Tuna came to stay with us while his owner, Karen, went to Sweden on a family vacation.

We cared for and loved Tuna very much. We fed him 2-3 times per day and gave him fresh water mid-week, as instructed.

On the Fourth of July, Tuna didn't eat his breakfast. He hung out at the side of his bowl, gulping listlessly.

Finally, after we got back from the pool that afternoon, I discovered him, dead. I furtively (and solemnly) removed Tuna from the bowl before Kibi could see.

The next day, I told Kibi that Tuna was sick and had had to leave our house for the fish hospital. Meanwhile, wouldn't it be exciting to go to the pet store and buy K. a new fish? DH, Kibi and I schlepped out to Petco.

Kibi, upon setting foot inside the pet store, gagged and threw up (quite literally) due to the "animal smells" in the store. When we asked him what was wrong, he said he didn't like the "poop smell" and that he didn't want to go into any other "smelly stores".

So, no replacement fish for the time being. I might see if he's up for a ride to the store today, but in some ways I feel I might be pushing my luck. Karen, if you're reading this, let me again say how very sorry I am for letting Tuna die on my watch. The sad thing is, this isn't the first time it's happened. Pretty much the same thing happened to "Tuna I" a few years ago.

What is it with me and goldfish? Do I have a Bermuda Triangle thing going on?

Anyway, RIP Tuna II. You were a good fish. The fact that you died on Independence Day makes your passing all the more poetic, in my opinion.

Happy Fourth of July

If today is any indication, we're off to a deliciously enjoyable weekend. DH is off work so we've had great family time. This morning we got up early, walked to the local coffee joint, got sufficiently caffeine-ated, took Kibi to the park, and later ate lunch. I've just finished one lighthearted summer read and am about to start another book that promises to be interesting. Meanwhile, Kibi is still napping.

Have a great Fourth of July, everyone!

Let's Hear It for Small Victories

Did I mention my "big bummer" personal news development?

I have to get braces.

Yup, despite the fact that I already had them in junior high, and despite the fact that, aesthetically-speaking, my teeth look fine ... I have to get them.

It's a long story, probably one you don't care to hear about, but I'll tell a truncated version: I'm missing a permanent tooth among my bottom row of molars. Consequently, the spacing on my bottom row of teeth is all "jacked up," as my friend Karen likes to say, and it's causing problems with my bite. The overbite problem, combined with my incessant teeth-grinding, has been causing my teeth to chip constantly.

Soooooo... in order to avoid all of this rigamarole (after all, I do want to have teeth going into my golden years!) I have to get braces. BIG BUMMER. The only small consolation is that these days, they have "invisible braces" like those above, so at least I don't have to look like each of my teeth is wrapped in tin foil, a la 1987.

Well, I will not go down without a fight, and today I scored Small Victory #1 in my orthodontia battle. Here's the scoop: I was scheduled to have separators put on my teeth. For those of you who are not enlightened, separators push your teeth apart to make space for the bands that go with the braces. A HUGELY painful ordeal. I was supposed to get separators on, and then the top row of my braces goes on July 13th.

Well, imagine my surprise upon learning that my teeth are actually too tightly squooshed together (my verbiage, not the orthodontist's) for separators. So I won't get them! And instead of bands, I'll get brackets.

Ha HA! Take THAT, braces!

I Believe David Byrne Would Be Proud

You may find yourself

Traveling in a big suburban car

And you may ask yourself,

Is there not more tolerable music to listen to with my toddler?

And you may tell yourself

"I have an idea!"

And you may tell yourself

To adapt new lyrics to an old favorite.

This was the impetus for the brilliant idea I had yesterday, when I was really aching for grown-up music on the way home from my MIL's with Kibi. Knowing well his fascination with All Things Fire Truck, I made some quick changes to a perfectly wonderful song by the Talking Heads.

I was so impressed with myself that I jotted the words down (as much as I could remember them) when I got home.

Feel free to use the following for yourselves if and when you are so inclined. You can thank me later.

Burning Down the House

One day, those fire trucks had to co-ome,

Oh, baby! Those fire trucks on the ru-un.

Ain't no ordinary day

Burning down the house!

Hold tight - wait 'til the fire's over,

Hold tight - see all the firemen come up.

There has got to be a way

Burning down the house!

It's time to take the axes out, and chop down all the doors and walls.

(Get those hoses out, to-ooo!)

Close enough but not too far, those hoses shoot up toward the stars.

Fightin' fire with waaa-ter!

All wet - hey, you might need a raincoat.

Shakedown, and pick up all your me-ess.

Three hundred sixty five degrees

Burning down the house!

(expand as necessary....)