A Tribute to Gil the fish

A few days ago, my beloved Gil breathed his last.   Gil was the best goldfish a woman could ask for.   I am pretty sure he was seven or eight years old when he passed.    Sigh.   Such a good fish.

He started his journey as a little fish in our fairy garden in our backyard.   I had made a little tiny pond in the little tiny garden with an air pump to keep the fishies alive.   There were five in the beginning.   Five adorable, lovely fish.   They arrived sometime in June.   Everything went smoothly for awhile.   I would walk outside and hear the little bubbly noise of the water from the wittle pond which of course was so very relaxing and what every American should experience.   I was feeling great and I was feeling fine.   Gil and his friends swam happily together eating mosquito larvae and living the good life.  

One night a few days later....I discovered two of the cute little fellows had gone missing.   The kids were distraught when they found out.   We assumed a neighboring cat got hungry but in hind sight it was more likely a raccoon.   They died a violent death for sure.   We did catch some raccoon that summer but we will never know what exactly happened.   I try not to think about it very long.

The rest of the summer passed and at summers end, only Gil remained.   The weather was getting a lot colder so we decided it was time for him to move inside.   There were no fish bowls kicking around so I made a trip to WalMart to get the necessary supplies.   So many choices of colored rocks and little plastic pirates!   I settled on the blue, pink and green rocks and the standard fish bowl.  You know the kind you can carry around in elevators and to appointments and such.  I passed on the plactic pirates as being a bit to cheesy.

The adventures we had with Gill.   Sigh.   Such sweet memories of Gil on the shelf and having our very own cat Scout regularly visit for a drink of water and a cat's equivalent to TV watching, peering at Gil through the glass. They had such a great friendship. I think they did....pretty sure.....  Gil must have had incredible trust to not have heart failure after some of these visits but the cat respectfully drank the water and I never saw her reach in.  She just day dreamed about it.  

Years literally passed and Gil grew in size and stature.  He was also joined by some of the other survivors from future summers.   I couldn't bear putting Gil back outside again so his  gallon bowl housed about five other fish who joined him through the years, from what I can remember.    Eventually he and his friends got so so big it was time for them to get a new pad.  The standard fish bowl is only one gallon.   I found a square tank on Amazon which had a nice filter and pump setup and they finally had more space to move around.   I have no idea how six fish were surviving in a one gallon bowl but they did.  Ah....space.   So delicious and refreshing to see them moving about together.  

Several more years went by and they all grew in size and stature.   My brother was marveling at them all squishing in their five gallon tank and staying alive.   What goldfish could survive such a squishy environment?   He let me know that he had fifty gallon tank sitting in his backyard which he could reseal and check for leaks.   Fifty gallons!   We've traveled huge tank land before,  but decided that I would accept his offer and make room for the goldfish to move up in the world to a fish palace! Wow.  

I can be glad at heart to know that Gil spent his last few years in enough space where he could find some quiet time away from his friends.   They totally loved their new pad.   The TV screen for the cats and children was incredible.   Sigh.   I tried to remember to feed them regularly and mostly keep up with the care of the water and filters.   Such a glorious fish life.

A few weeks ago I noticed Gil was spending a bit more time resting on the bottom.   I was a bit concerned but figured it was just a coincidence he was still there most of the time.   When I put food in the tank he would still swim to the top.   Then the other night.....choke......he was laying on his side and had labored breathing.   My poor Gil!   I wasn't sure what to do as I am not a fish expert.   I couldn't take him out back with a 22 but I had to do something.   He was clearly suffering so decided to take him out and hold him in his last minutes.   Did you know fish can breathe outside the tank for a long time???!!!!!   Well they can.   He couldn't move anymore so I knew it was for the best but seriously, watching him breathing every so often and staring blankly ahead was pretty hearth wrenching.  My son was crying.    Two of the kids sat with me and we talked about all our memories of Gil through the years.  Finally Gil breathed his last.   We wrapped him in a little cloth and took him back to the fairy garden where he had lived his first summer with us.   The kids dug his grave and put him in.   My son placed a rock over where he was buried and we will always remember him when we occasionally make it down to the fairy garden for some weeding.  

 He lived at least seven years and I wouldn't trade them for anything.   I still look for Gil in the tank.   Nothing will ever be the same in that tank without him.   Goodbye Gil!   You were the best!

Ringmaster

"I would like to buy a contradiction please".....oh wait.   I get those for free.   Negative me but seriously!   How to get the kids to stop contradicting each other and me at every given opportunity.   The conversation barely begins and then.....contradiction.  Ack.   How to teach them to say nice things to each other or to me.   Whining is a form of talking back to zee parents.   Stop whining.   Pondering how to call them on the carpet for this.   Fortunately they seem to pull themselves together for the most part in public.    We had a nice time at the zoo.   We sort of ended up at the zoo by accident since I misunderstood when a concert we wanted to go was.   I was two days early and decided that since we were out and presentable, we may as well take the plunge and visit the zoo.  

So my littlest roarer was caught by surprise when the lions started roaring and roaring....and roaring.   He appeared pretty unsure of himself but decided to roar back at them.   He roared and roared and roared.    I am pondering how I can 'roar' back at the kids in a sense by calling them on the carpet for their choices of avoidance, whining, sloth etc.   I am not as cute or remotely so as my little roarer.  I am the ringmaster of sorts but methods are different.   Everyone to your corners cubs!   Focus.   Jump through whatever hoops you need to get er' done!  

Biking ha ha

I finally took the plunge and got some biking shoes and clips for my bike.   Sweet relief.    The guy at the store gave Erik and I the whole run down on how to use them and described what it would look like to fall off.   (Erik actually used some of his money to buy himself a bike which fits his tall self).   I of course thought to myself, nah, that couldn't possibly happen to me.  

The first day available I took off and figured out how to get my shoes in the clips and YES, they are awesome.   It is so much easier to bike and use all the muscles etc to burn up the road - ha ha.   Having gotten through the first four miles, I neglected to test out getting out of the clips and was forced to come to a stop by one of those annoying cars at a cross way.   First try with my right foot and my foot did not come out.   Second try with the left foot and I was already headed down to pavement land.   Meeting the pavement I just started laughing my head off.   I am sure I looked pretty looney with my feet stuck on my pedals and laughing on the ground.  

Learned my lesson, got back on the 'horse' and took less pains to figure out how to get out of the pedals.   Slow prideful learner am I. 

This is going to hurt

Potential pain stared me in the face three times on the same stretch of road whilst out biking the last few days.   Earlier this week  I was zipping along and my least favorite surprise happened.   A dog with the fiercest growl came out of no where and got too close for comfort.    Fear of dogs....um....yep.  My mind went quickly to "this is going to hurt"  Fortunately the dog was only bluffing and my heart probably triple timed up that hill.  

The next day it had snowed the night before and all the roads were clear....except the growling dog road.   The growling dog did happen to make another appearance but I stayed calm and cool and didn't even give it credit for it's fierce growl..  Poor thing.  Growling wasted.   Anyway.....it suddenly got a bit more challenging to stay upright.   Snow.   Lots of it.  I slipped and slid my way up the hill on a not very melted snowy road.   Weeellllll.....what goes up, usually comes down.   On the other side of the hill the snow was much less cooperative.   I had a death grip on the handle bars and carefully searched for dry pavement.   That patch was a LONG way off.   "This is going to hurt" was very actively tripping through my head this time.   More like...."this going to hurt, this is going to hurt, this is going to hurt" sort of to the rhythm  of  "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can".    FINALLY reached the patch of pavement and FINALLY exhaled and was able to relax a bit grateful for my helmet and extra clothing even though I escaped  pain and also was thinking  of how stupid I was to attempt that hill with that much snow on the ground.   I am easily tempted when it comes to hills.  

The VERY next day, with nice clear roads, I.....succumbed to the growling, slipping, sliding road again.   What could go wrong today???  Right???   I might need to change my route.   I got to the top of the second hill and looked over at the same property I have passed day after day and noticed a big boxer like dog galloping down the drive way.  A few words came to mind....."This is going to...." amongst other words.    I had never seen THIS dog and it stopped halfway down the long driveway.  Phew.   You guessed it.   It changed its mind and started sprinting and barking fiercely at the stupid biker woman.    I was just waiting for it to take a hunk out of my leg.  "This is going to hurt"  (common theme on this road)  but fortunately the thing stopped its pursuit of the stupid me and went back home.   Deep breath.   Lots of them.   Have I mentioned I am scared of dogs????

I spent the rest of my ride home contemplating a new route.   We shall see if I am stupid....tomorrow.  

Commercial break

I am contemplating contacting the networks about making a new commercial.   It will feature me or some other better looking mom, doing wondrous, ponderous things such as.....du, du, du.......changing a diaper or.....putting the clothes in the drier.    It will be colorful and awesome with cutely decorated rooms and a beautiful garden which the awesome mom is weeding (or not) and then......at the end of the commercial break it will say......can you guess???????

My name is Martha Ingebretson and..... I'm.......a...... Lutheran.   This will stop all the prejudice against Lutherans I am sure.   All that crossing of themselves and such and living life.   We need to set the record straight.    I know that most people contemplate the weird behavior of Lutherans.  Yes.   You know they do. 

If you say......

in any public way, that your kid is learning to read then they might promptly stop learning, forget everything you have taught them and come to a screeching halt.   I have learned to never say things are going well and keep it all a deep dark secret lest I find myself disappointed.  Quietly keeping that all to myself till they have graduated, I've quit teaching them, or they get a job is the plan for me.    I have nine kids.   They are all great and wonderful kidlets.   They mostly live here except for that one who lives south in some school place.   I'll let you know what is up with her in a year or so......hopefully.    Same goes with announcing the regular use of underwear.    You might discover them in their yucky diaper when you thought they had normal human wear on.   If you spend time with one of the kids, another will come and tell you how you never talk to them or play games with them.    Oh dear.   If you switch curriculum because you think it is better, your kids will take two years to catch up to where they would have been in the old curriculum.    Do I care?   Not usually but sometimes I might feel squished by the list of things to do.

Definitely do not declare that you are working on the kids basic attitude and improving it.   Someone is sure to stop by when you are snapping at a kid or two kids are killing each other in the driveway.   If you say you are going to complete a project by Christmas......don't say that.   It is best to take one day at a time.   One thing at a time works.   Hard to remember but it works......if I can remember.    So goes my rambling for Tuesday.   Now off to decide to get something done but I am not telling you what it is. 

9th child well kid check up

Rips 15 month old out of crib, brightens his day with oatmeal immediately after this extraction.   Poor a sipper cup of milk, shove poor bewildered child in his car seat with cup, shut the door and speed off to doc.   Ponder on the way to doc that wittle ickle goo goo probably needs his nails cut.   Rummages to see if emergency nail cutting device is in console for use before Holy Communion avoid embarrassment missions.   Check.   Extracts small child from car seat at doc, checks him in and heads for the bathroom to cut his nails and clean his wittle hands.   Is relieved to find paper towels in bathroom to wash oatmeal off his baby schnuckem cheeks and exits for waiting area happy that I might appear like I take careful care of my one year old.  

Nurse forgets to check her clock and emerges fifteen minutes later after little person had 'read' all the magazines, ripped off his socks, charmed some old people and stole the Gideon Bible.

  Questions......'can he throw a ball?"   Me, "I am not sure but he can whack his older sister on the head."  

Nurse, "Can he say four or more words?"  Me, "I knew you were going to ask that last night so took inventory - Chip (the dog), Cia (Cecilia), Mama (phew),  NaNa (Matthew or Anna)."

Doctor, "Does he have his molars yet?"

Me, "Um......I am not sure.   No, I don't think so but am not sure." 

Such is the life of this mom of nine.   I probably did the same thing with one.   I am just a lot less focused on the ickle small people's every move etc.    He did get many comments about how expressive he is and after a nasty blood test for lead, went merrily home with me.    Gotta love his little self.   

VBS is not a sacrament

Inspired by someone on facebook who stated VBS is not a sacrament. My silly friend and I claimed the acronym and changed it's meaning.....Variety Beer Sampling. All this from laughing at our past lives as Sunday School Suckers....I mean Superintendents. Ugh. Hate that job. We decided to make this event come to life with a VBS part at my house with the theme of Gilligan's Island, dress as your favorite character. VBS takes on a much more relaxing tone when it stands for Variety Beer Sampling. Adults were asked to bring a variety of beer which either they had never tried or one which might be their favorite to share. In the case of Gilligan's Island I thought we could probably have martinis with little umbrellas in honor of the Howells but no one was that organized and I was too tired. The kids had a blast watching Gilligan's Island, the adults had fun doing what adults might do at this variety of VBS (far more fun than the other variety), and we skipped worrying about the tikki (? spelling?) lanterns as it was too hot and miserable outside to leave the comfort of the TV room.

Only Lutherans could have this variety of VBS. I am so happy to be Lutheran and enjoying God's good gifts. You should try VBS at your church or the home of a parishioner too tired to care what happens at a party hosted by people who don't live at their house.... (grammar nazis may help with that sentence or lack of sentence if you wish.....too tired to care).