he was so cute I couldn't help it...

Once upon a time, Callie bought a Betta and named him Thomas. In her excitement, however, she forgot that Bettas cannot live in a pet store plastic bag forever, and that they need food and a regularly cleaned tank. Since Leonardo's death has left me feeling very sad and lonely for a little fish, I decided that I would make sure that Callie gave Thomas the best care I know how to provide. So down to Walmart I went (because their glass fish bowls are only five dollars, unlike the pet store ones which are fifteen) to create a fish starter kit for Callie.

While perusing the shelves in search of Betta food and care items, I noticed a handsome little guy sitting on the shelf near the bowls. I kept telling myself, no, you don't need another fish, and you don't even WANT another fish. Back to comparing prices and quality I went. But for some reason, I could not stop looking at that little fish.

Against my better judgment, I bent down and examined the handsome little guy who was swimming lazily in circles. He was very chill about things, swimming with what I can only call a saunter in his tail and a devil-may-care look on his face. I could almost hear him say, "Hey. How you doin'?" as he swam another lap in his cup. And right then I knew that the cool fish on the shelf was about to move out and take up residence in my living room.

My friends, meet Raphael. He's a 3 inch long Crowntail Betta, mostly blue and red in color with purple highlights in the fins, tail, and gills. He enjoys swimming laps around the bowl and blowing bubbles on the surface of the water.

He's not afraid to strut his stuff, this one.

Basically, he's attractive and he knows it.

reaction time...

My friend Linnea is quite possibly one of the most "chill" people I have ever met. So when she told me that I was so stressed out that I was making her nervous, I knew that there was something wrong.

At first I was a little confused. I didn't feel particularly stressed -- more like exhausted and scared. Which, come to think of it, are symptoms of stress. I began a mental inventory of things that could possibly be stressing me out.

One. The Parker thing. And it doesn't have anything to do with the post about the conversation we had on the phone.
Two. School. Like the fact that I might have to go for another year. And that it costs money.
Three. School with two jobs and wondering how I am going to get my homework done this fall.
Four. Money. Two jobs, school, rent, food. Money. Bleh.
Five. Room mate stuff for fall.
Six. Having too much food in the fridge/pantry/freezer (yes -- that does stress me out a little).

So I had a list of things that were stressing me out, but they didn't seem like anything I haven't been a little worried about this whole summer. They've always been there in the back of my mind (except for the Parker thing because that's new). Why surface now?

While running a double check inventory, I remembered these little things.

One. Dad has started his cancer treatments (oh, yeah, I forgot to mention -- my dad was diagnosed with cancer two weeks ago). He actually seems to be feeling a little better. He's not quite as tired.
Two. Callie is doing much better. She told the authorities and a court date is set for next week. She also bought a fish today and named him Thomas. She carries her pepper spray with her all the time, and she is laughing and smiling often. She isn't healed, but she's getting better every day.
Three. Things at work are a little better.

But all of these things are good developments, so why are they stressing me out?

Oh. Wait. Because now that all of these people involved are doing better, I seem to have subconsciously recognized that I can take a bit of a break from being the strong one. Think of it as a delayed reaction -- two weeks after the fact, I'm starting to really feel the impact of all of these things. My dad. Callie. Work. Even little Leonardo dying (I miss him so much). I suddenly feel awful -- nervous, exhausted, irritated, sometimes downright depressed -- and I think part of it is because it isn't necessary for me to be calm, or just there, all of the time.

Couple this lack of being needed with the resurfacing old stresses (plus the Parker thing) and presto. You've got one awkward, jumpy, uptight, spring-loaded little girl. Delayed reactions, people. De-freakin-layed.

Bad. Bad, bad. Thank goodness for a good gym buddy (working out really does help with stress -- who knew), strawberries, a fat old chocolate lab whom I love, and the promise of an evening with the Raddatz family tomorrow night. Always good to have something to look forward to! Not to mention I'm providing Thomas the Betta with an apartment and food for his new residence in PartyLand. He's gonna be one spoiled little fishy.

Actually...having Thomas at PartyLand is another stress. I'm feeling extremely protective over this little fish. Bettas are a bit tricky. If he dies...good grief. I might fall apart.

Bad. I need more strawberries. And sleep. Psh. Sleep. Who does that?

trouble comes in threes...or fours...

1. Leonardo (my betta) died today. Some people may say it's ridiculous to cry over a pet fish. I disagree.

2. There is an increasing amount of drama at PartyLand. Nine girls in one store...one girl in particular is causing a lot of grief for everyone else. If she wasn't so gosh darn mean all the time, it'd be fine. Sadly, she is mean a lot (and I'm not the only one who has noticed), and it's getting old.

3. One of my best friends doesn't answer when I try to talk to him anymore. I almost want to call him in the hopes that he'll actually answer just so that I can hang up on him. But that's rude.

4. Illness in the family is very, very hard -- especially when faced with the unknown.

so one time i bought a fish and i named him Leonardo...

One day I was walking Misty through the pet store because it was too cold and wet to take her for a walk outside. We were looking at the toys and meeting new friends (she was more afraid of the Corgie that was her size than she was of the Great Dane and the Irish Wolfhound). Sometimes Misty likes to watch the fish swim in their tanks; she can only see the ones low to the ground, but she'll sit and watch them swim back and forth through the water. As I was looking at the fish with her, I came to a realization: I really, really wanted a fish.

So after doing some pricing and scoping at different stores, doing some research online, and breaking into my piggy bank, I got my wish. I bought a fish. And he is a beauty.


This is Leonardo. Check out his coloring! I've never seen a betta this color. Usually they're royal blue, purple, teal, red, or white with streaks of color. Not this little guy. He's almost golden, with green and purple and yellow streaks in his fins and tail.

Leonardo is a yellow-gold Halfmoon Betta, a breed of Siamese fighting fish. Originally from Siam, bettas live in rice fields and in shallow, muddy ponds. The people of Siam began breeding these fish in the gutters of the cities to create a stronger, faster, more aggressive breed of fighting fish. It's kind of like dogfighting or cockfighting in the US, before they put bans on those "sports". Betta fish were used for the same purpose sometimes, as entertainment.

Not Leonardo, though. Since he's by himself in his bowl, there's nobody to bother him. Except for me, when I sit and talk to him about nothing and everything, or watch him swim around. I tried to have a staring contest with him yesterday, but then I remembered that fish don't have eyelids, so I just stared at him and blinked when I had to. He doesn't seem to mind if I watch him. He just swims around and blows bubbles and stuff.

I hope he explores his ruin soon! There are openings for him to go inside. Bettas like little hiding places in rocks and in grasses. Hopefully he likes his new house! It's way better than the little cup he'd been living in at the pet store. WAY better.