You'd think, after killing the fish in very short order, that I would be scared off from ever getting another aquatic critter. After all, there's all sorts of complicated factors to worry about, like pH, water temperature, and lighting, and I tend towards the hands-off when it comes to pets.
No, not me. There's got to be another watery denizen whose lifespan won't be measured in hours once they come through the front door of my house.
Frogs. How about frogs? I had frogs as a kid, and they always worked out OK. Of course by "had" I meant they lived in the mud puddle behind my house and "worked out OK" means they lasted a couple of days before something four-legged ate them.
Back to PetsMart, which was rapidly closing in on Lowe's as an excellent place to waste (in the purest sense, ie deriving no utility whatever) money. I walked out twenty minutes later with a small (about 2") aquatic frog that the clerk assured me was plenty durable. Just condition the water like with the fish, clean the tank, and feed it on a regular schedule. No problem, I said, can do.
Into the tank he went, after the requisite scrubbing and tank preparation. The frog frolicked around, in that odd little breast stroke thing they do. "Kick like a frog, like a frog!" I heard my 5th grade PE teacher yell during swimming lessons. "So that's what he meant...oh." I am a horrible swimmer, always have been, and the fact that it took over twenty years for a simple lesson like that to sink in is testimony to my aquatic incompetence, or maybe the teacher just sucked. Probably the latter.
The next morning, as I was trying to get the coffee maker going, my daughter padded into the computer room where we keep the fish/frog/poo tank, and shrieked. Sure enough, the Grim Reaper had visited yet again. I wandered in, and there the frog lay, in the same paralyzed backflop the fish had demonstrated, only the frog had legs, and well, he was a frog.
Crap.
I distracted the rug rat long enough to scoop the frog out and give him a dignified burial. My next door neighbor is going to be pissed when he sees that frog in his front yard.
That does it, I told my wife, we're getting something four-legged.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Body Count
Early last week, my toddler started asking for a pet. Now, my first reaction was to point to our two dogs, but that just brought a pouty "but I want my own pet!" in response. I had to admit, the little rug muffin had a point. Both of our dogs are approaching ten years old, and they've been a part of our (my wife and I that is) lives much longer than my daughter. I'm all for empowerment and whatever new-age psychobabble that people want to attach to a young child's emotional development, so I was open to the idea.
But, we argued, what to get?
Another dog was out, right off the bat. We don't have the space in our house, and frankly I didn't want to start a caninine battle royale by introducing a puppy into a well-defined pecking order of two older dogs. Cats? I'm badly allergic to them and don't like them anyway. Birds, Guinea Pigs, and other small critters were similarly vetoed due to past bad experiences.
Fish? That's an option. After all, how dummy-proof are fish?
I scooped up my daughter, grabbed the checkbook, and headed to the local PetsMart, which is basically WalMart minus the groceries and shotgun shells. While I was looking for durability and ease of maintenance, my daughter's main point of interest seemed to be color. After a little (OK, maybe twenty minutes, which is easily a year in toddler time) dithering, we settled on an orange tropical fish about two inches long.
"OK, you also need to add this, and keep...and...make sure to....and keep this...." The clerk, trying to be helpful without sounding pretentious, droned on about minute details until I had obviously glazed completely the hell over, probably in the same way my Pug does when I explain vector physics to him.
"Umm, it's in the operating manual, right?"
With a couple of perfunctory nods and a little damage to the checking account, we were out the door. Twenty minutes later, we walked in, set up the tank, and started waiting. The instructions said to let the water set for four hours to settle, which I decided was probably some sinister plot to bore the fish to death as he sat there in his plastic bag on the kitchen table. Never one to argue with logical instructions, I waited.
An hour. Reasoning that water settling, or whatever the scientific term for it is, occurs on a reverse exponential scale where the greatest impact is the most immediate, I gently (picture an anchor dropping from a battleship) scooped the fish in, flipped on the filter, tossed in some food flakes, and stood back and watched my toddler oow and aww as much as her attention span would allow. About a minute later, she wandered off, as did I.
The next morning, on the way out the door to work, I peeked in on my still-sleeping munchkin. So silent, so peaceful, I thought, as she lay there wrapped up in her blankets. I tip-toed across the room to peer in the fish tank. Ahhh, I thought, so silent, so peaceful....so dead. Now, it's been twelve years since my last animal-related college biology class, but I do know that doing the horizontal stationary backstroke is generally not a good sign. Not wanting to be less than an hour early to work, I creeped out of the room and left for work. I had made it roughly a mile down the road when my cellphone went off. My normally inflappable wife, actually very flappable before her second cup of coffee, wanted to know why I left a dead fish in the tank.
Excuses I offered, in that order:
1. I didn't want to wake the little one - didn't fly.
2. Running late - didn't work either.
3. Ashes to ashes, dust to.... - nope.
4. I'm allergic to dead fish guts - sorry.
5. Maybe the fish was still sleeping - ummm, no.
Tomorrow - adventures in rodentia.
But, we argued, what to get?
Another dog was out, right off the bat. We don't have the space in our house, and frankly I didn't want to start a caninine battle royale by introducing a puppy into a well-defined pecking order of two older dogs. Cats? I'm badly allergic to them and don't like them anyway. Birds, Guinea Pigs, and other small critters were similarly vetoed due to past bad experiences.
Fish? That's an option. After all, how dummy-proof are fish?
I scooped up my daughter, grabbed the checkbook, and headed to the local PetsMart, which is basically WalMart minus the groceries and shotgun shells. While I was looking for durability and ease of maintenance, my daughter's main point of interest seemed to be color. After a little (OK, maybe twenty minutes, which is easily a year in toddler time) dithering, we settled on an orange tropical fish about two inches long.
"OK, you also need to add this, and keep...and...make sure to....and keep this...." The clerk, trying to be helpful without sounding pretentious, droned on about minute details until I had obviously glazed completely the hell over, probably in the same way my Pug does when I explain vector physics to him.
"Umm, it's in the operating manual, right?"
With a couple of perfunctory nods and a little damage to the checking account, we were out the door. Twenty minutes later, we walked in, set up the tank, and started waiting. The instructions said to let the water set for four hours to settle, which I decided was probably some sinister plot to bore the fish to death as he sat there in his plastic bag on the kitchen table. Never one to argue with logical instructions, I waited.
An hour. Reasoning that water settling, or whatever the scientific term for it is, occurs on a reverse exponential scale where the greatest impact is the most immediate, I gently (picture an anchor dropping from a battleship) scooped the fish in, flipped on the filter, tossed in some food flakes, and stood back and watched my toddler oow and aww as much as her attention span would allow. About a minute later, she wandered off, as did I.
The next morning, on the way out the door to work, I peeked in on my still-sleeping munchkin. So silent, so peaceful, I thought, as she lay there wrapped up in her blankets. I tip-toed across the room to peer in the fish tank. Ahhh, I thought, so silent, so peaceful....so dead. Now, it's been twelve years since my last animal-related college biology class, but I do know that doing the horizontal stationary backstroke is generally not a good sign. Not wanting to be less than an hour early to work, I creeped out of the room and left for work. I had made it roughly a mile down the road when my cellphone went off. My normally inflappable wife, actually very flappable before her second cup of coffee, wanted to know why I left a dead fish in the tank.
Excuses I offered, in that order:
1. I didn't want to wake the little one - didn't fly.
2. Running late - didn't work either.
3. Ashes to ashes, dust to.... - nope.
4. I'm allergic to dead fish guts - sorry.
5. Maybe the fish was still sleeping - ummm, no.
Tomorrow - adventures in rodentia.
Friday, July 6, 2007
News of the Day
Two completely unrelated news items and some extraneous commentary.
The AK-47 turns sixty years old.
http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,288456,00.html
I have often pondered that two of my hobbies over the past two decades were both designed by humble and relatively simple people while unconscious. Mikhail Kalashnikov drew up the idea for the AK after being knocked goofy by a German shell in 1941, Adolphe Sax designed his namesake woodwind sometime in 1840 (coincidentally slightly more than 100 years earlier) while in the hospital after banging his head on the street in front of his Belgian house. According to legend, in both cases, the designer woke up and asked for a pen and paper to scratch out a design that had been floating in their respective heads over the past few days. The Kalashnikov story is much easier to verify, but I have no reason not to trust my 5th grade band teacher who helped me get into music. For the record, after a bad experience in 9th grade band, I gave up playing the saxophone (a Keilwerth tenor) and sold the instrument two years later. I had an AK (Romanian SAR-1 in 7.62x39) for about two years earlier this decade, but sold it to help fund another AR-15. Some day, I'll get another....of both. On a related note, I have inked out some of my best ideas, while nowhere near the significance of either the AK or saxophone, on fast food napkins sprawled over the console of my truck.
11 year old Alabama girl arrested for DUI after 8-mile police chase.
http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/07/06/child.driver.chase.ap/index.html
I'll leave the commentary simple. WTF???
The AK-47 turns sixty years old.
http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,288456,00.html
I have often pondered that two of my hobbies over the past two decades were both designed by humble and relatively simple people while unconscious. Mikhail Kalashnikov drew up the idea for the AK after being knocked goofy by a German shell in 1941, Adolphe Sax designed his namesake woodwind sometime in 1840 (coincidentally slightly more than 100 years earlier) while in the hospital after banging his head on the street in front of his Belgian house. According to legend, in both cases, the designer woke up and asked for a pen and paper to scratch out a design that had been floating in their respective heads over the past few days. The Kalashnikov story is much easier to verify, but I have no reason not to trust my 5th grade band teacher who helped me get into music. For the record, after a bad experience in 9th grade band, I gave up playing the saxophone (a Keilwerth tenor) and sold the instrument two years later. I had an AK (Romanian SAR-1 in 7.62x39) for about two years earlier this decade, but sold it to help fund another AR-15. Some day, I'll get another....of both. On a related note, I have inked out some of my best ideas, while nowhere near the significance of either the AK or saxophone, on fast food napkins sprawled over the console of my truck.
11 year old Alabama girl arrested for DUI after 8-mile police chase.
http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/07/06/child.driver.chase.ap/index.html
I'll leave the commentary simple. WTF???
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Hostage Negotiation, Asian Style
I received this in an email last week, and post it for everyone's perusal. The email said this was in Japan, but I can't verify it, so let's just leave it as "Somewhere in Asia". I think that will work.
The hostage taker lists his three demands. No idea what they were.
The negotiators confer in the next room. Anything that starts with a staff meeting of some sort usually ends in violence. Notice the pensive "yeah I think that might work" chin rub towards the left.
Negotiations begin.....
.....and fail. Notice the "monkey strap" on the guy's waist. Safety first, you know.
Verbal judo has nothing on a good hollow point.
After a little paperwork, everyone gets to go home on time. Well, almost everyone.
The hostage taker lists his three demands. No idea what they were.
The negotiators confer in the next room. Anything that starts with a staff meeting of some sort usually ends in violence. Notice the pensive "yeah I think that might work" chin rub towards the left.
Negotiations begin.....
.....and fail. Notice the "monkey strap" on the guy's waist. Safety first, you know.
Verbal judo has nothing on a good hollow point.
After a little paperwork, everyone gets to go home on time. Well, almost everyone.
Hunting Season
It's a wiley creature, almost always traveling in pairs and working in seamless harmony. Strangely, it is also for some reason usually attached to a larger beast, tagging along like some apparently harmless parasite, there for the ride and occasionally actually contributing something useful.
On selected days, they are hunted. Yesterday was one such day.
The hunt began innocuously, the hunter creeping cautiously around the corner, exploring every hidden nook and cranny in search of the silent threat.
Suddenly, it appeared in a flash. The hunter, as is custom, appealed to the creature to surrender and submit without a fight, knowing that this was ever so unlikely.
"PoliceStopPutTheGunDownNow!"
Seeing continued resistance, the hunter stroked the trigger of his highly tuned weapon, the muzzle barking as a projectile screamed towards the prey.
POP!
The creature flinched at the impact. The larger beast on which it was riding growled in indignation.
"Owww! Dammit!"
Just as suddenly as it had started, the hunt was over, as an unseen voice instructed the hunter to desist.
Over as well was the day of the wiley creature, as it skulked off to the corner. A fascinating creature, this thing, this monster....this elbow.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Tank Museum, Pumpkin Update
On Friday I took the family to the American Armored Foundation Tank Museum in Danville, about 90 minutes from the house. Being a bit of a history buff, I am always eager to explore a new museum.
The good:
- An incredible stretch of amored vehicles and artillery, the most I have seen under one roof (in this case, a converted factory). All air conditioned, although a little muggy on a hot day, but most importantly, dry. There were vehicles and static displays from the late 1800's up the present day, including a good mix of WW2 and Cold War items.
- An equally expansive small arms display, including a nice mix of WW1 and WW2 rifles. I lost track of the number of times I saw guns that I had read about in books but never seen in person.
The bad:
- The helmet/headgear display was badly disorganized, with 1980's helmets mixed in with 1770's helmets. A little shuffling to make the dates more relevant would fix this.
- The ponytailed, t-shirted, security guard toting a revolver at the front door. Thankfully we ignored each other, but he really struck me as unprofessional. Put on a clean shirt, trim the hair, and hide the gun.
Overall, very much worth a visit.
http://www.aaftankmuseum.com/
The pumpkin plants are growing like proverbial weeds. The largest leaf on one of the plants measured 14" across at the widest part, and more tendrils are already reaching out. I pulled off two flowers from each plant yesterday, in keeping with my goal of delaying fruit set for at least another three weeks. In the mean time, the plants need to concentrate on developing their root systems. With the recent hot and sunny days, I have been watering twice a day - once before I leave for work around 6:30am, and again when I get home at around 5:00pm. I am going to switch the morning watering to a feeding this week, and on cloudy or rainy days possibly skop the afternoon watering if it doesn't look like they need it.
The good:
- An incredible stretch of amored vehicles and artillery, the most I have seen under one roof (in this case, a converted factory). All air conditioned, although a little muggy on a hot day, but most importantly, dry. There were vehicles and static displays from the late 1800's up the present day, including a good mix of WW2 and Cold War items.
- An equally expansive small arms display, including a nice mix of WW1 and WW2 rifles. I lost track of the number of times I saw guns that I had read about in books but never seen in person.
The bad:
- The helmet/headgear display was badly disorganized, with 1980's helmets mixed in with 1770's helmets. A little shuffling to make the dates more relevant would fix this.
- The ponytailed, t-shirted, security guard toting a revolver at the front door. Thankfully we ignored each other, but he really struck me as unprofessional. Put on a clean shirt, trim the hair, and hide the gun.
Overall, very much worth a visit.
http://www.aaftankmuseum.com/
The pumpkin plants are growing like proverbial weeds. The largest leaf on one of the plants measured 14" across at the widest part, and more tendrils are already reaching out. I pulled off two flowers from each plant yesterday, in keeping with my goal of delaying fruit set for at least another three weeks. In the mean time, the plants need to concentrate on developing their root systems. With the recent hot and sunny days, I have been watering twice a day - once before I leave for work around 6:30am, and again when I get home at around 5:00pm. I am going to switch the morning watering to a feeding this week, and on cloudy or rainy days possibly skop the afternoon watering if it doesn't look like they need it.
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