A week or so ago I slipped out of the house prior to my daughter's weaning party, (that's right, weaning party, the milk-aholic has kicked the habit) ostensibly to get her some flowers, but actually, to get whatever.
The theme on the streets was extra large fishtanks. On 17th St. there was one that looked like it could hold quite a few gallons, replete with stand. In front of my house there was a small pile of things, perhaps courtesy of our author, foodie and rockstar neighbor Felicia Sullivan. Felicia published her memoir, The Sky Isn't Visible From Here, recently, and the thing I don't understand is why I'm not reading it this second. I'm so proud of her, but I have no right to be, really, she's not my daughter or sister or something she's my neighbor and I hardly know her.
But she does leave a fabulous selection of books in front of our house, and that day about a week ago I suspect it was she who left an oriental style paper lantern and extra large fishbowl in front of the house. I left the lantern but snagged the fishbowl because it's not so hard to imagine that one day we'll get some kind of fish, people do it...
Or maybe I snagged it because fish have been on my mind, at least on a subconscious level. I've been having so many dreams about fish, carp, salmon, blue ones, white ones, ones with bird's wings, angel fish, striped bass, alive ones swimming around, big fish eating smaller fish, dead fish on ice, fileted fish... I really don't spend my days thinking about fish so I wonder why my nights have been filled with them. My nights have been a little like the book "Go Dog Go," except concerning fish.
It should come as no surprise that when I saw my daughter had filled the enormous fishbowl up with water and dumped half a bottle of glitter in it I would want to dump one of our toy fish in there, and the sea anemone prop we've had around for our amusement, and spend some time taking pictures of it.
Perhaps the tanks are one of the more frequent curb finds because often the fish don't last all that long. Maybe one day we'll get a real fish and find out for ourselves. But it won't make such a good photography subject as they tend to always be on the go, and I'll have to restrain myself from dumping glitter on it.
1 comment:
All morning, I've been reading your blog instead of cleaning up breakfast dishes, taking my daughter outside into the sunshine, or tackling my to-do list. I love your writing; it's strangely hypnotic. You capture the inner monologue that goes through your head so well. It feels similar to the one that goes through my head, but I'm too lazy or disorganized or something and I rarely get it written down.
We should have coffee sometime and talk weaning. My two-and-a-half year old shows no signs of quitting anytime soon. I weaned her big sister at age 3, because I was pregnant. This time I'll have no such excuse (at least, I shouldn't) but when her 3rd birthday rolls around in June, I'd like to button up my shirt for good. We'll see how that goes.
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