I wrote very little in the past few days. I have no one to blame but myself. Instead, Mason and I goofed off a lot. Today, I even broke out the sprinkler for him to run through. There was much giggling and squealing (man, that boy loves to squeal. It's an awesome sound, too.)
On the fish obsession front, Typhoid Mary yet lives. She'll probably spend the rest of her natural life in the 5 gallon tank, just to deny me the pleasure of a new, clean tank. Ah well. I can't wish her ill, not really. She's healthy looking... like a horse. I'm almost fooled into thinking she could use some tank mates, but I'm not going to fall for that one again. I'm on to you, Mary!
The downstairs guys have been spoiled, however. I've been changing 10% of their water every day (except when we're away on vacation.) They've never been zippier. The plants are growing like weeds. Joe must be seven or eight inches by now. It's hard to imagine that when we bought him he was a thirteen cent feeder fish no bigger than an inch or two. He's lasted a long time. I've been tempted to see if I can find out when we bought him (I know I blogged about it on this list.) I can't remember how many years ago it was... one? Two? Or has it already been three?
All mamamals are happy and accounted for. The gerbils have totally adopted the Morton salt container I gave them as a second home. Now they build their nests inside the back of it, instead of in the little wooden house we bought for the express purpose of nesting. The cats, particularly Ms. Ball, still go wild for them. We move them out of Mason's room every night because they're most active at dusk and dawn, and that's usually when he's trying to sleep. The second they're on the floor in the TV room, Inky and Ball have to inspect their "mice." Inky usually sits on top of their cage, while Ms. Ball bats at the sides. Sometimes Deliah will flop her fat belly on the floor in front of their aquarium and make half-hearted attempts to nab them whist lying on her head. (If I could get a video of her lazy hunter routine, I'd post it. It's fairly hillarious.) Ms. Piggy has never shown an iota of interest in the rodents. I can almost hear her: "Sorry? Why should I care? Do they bring me food? I should think not."
The boy mammal is enjoying not being in school. After Memorial Day, however, it's back to the old routine. I'm ready, myself. If the weather had been more decent, I would have taken him hiking today. But we felt sluggish. We tried to go to the Minnesota Historical Society (which Shawn can get us into for free) but it was jam packed with school kids who were all bigger (and more foul-mouthed!) than Mason. We ended up leaving in dispair of ever getting a turn in the grain mill or on the falling bed.
Ah well. The sprinkler was fun at any rate.
The bigger mammal (Shawn) is ready for the weekend to start. Work, with Pawlenty's maddening line item mayhem, has been a bit stressful.
Anyway, I'm chatting with some witches on another page. I should focus on them! See ya!