Not long ago I decided it was time to start working on the old bucket list again. No matter how hard I squish my eyes and hold my breath and wish upon a star, time is apparently not going in reverse for me and there are still a bunch of monumental things I need to do, breathtaking places I need to visit visit, exotic foods I need to taste, and at last 243 micro-brew beers I still have yet to try.
But, just like everything else in my world, I was sort of stumped. I mean, where to start, you know?
I looked at a list of some stuff I had written down recently and decided to just go from there.
–Spend a month in a hut on a beach in Thailand. (Nah. That one was out. My wife would want to go too and well…)
–Skydiving (Seeing it written out on paper in pen ink made me realize that I actually confused ‘skydiving’ with something else. Namely, ‘not skydiving. So, that was out.)
–Make passionate love to a woman under the April stars on the roof of a Paris hotel. (Damn, My wife would wanna go to Paris too, I am sure of that. So…yeah…once again, that idea was out.)
– Get a pet fish.
A pet fish. Hmmmm. That seemed doable. I have always wanted a pet fish, and even though I have never had one I have helped keep two kids and two dogs alive, so I figured that I could handle a fish, right?
Yeah. A pet fish, I thought to myself.
YES! A. PET. FISH.
Boom. Done. Number one on the new bucket list was crossed off as I herded Violet, 3, and Henry, 1, into the car and along with my wife we headed straight for the pet store to make one of my dreams come true.
Now, he’s here. Violet named him, Fishley, and he’s awesome. He’s a Betta fish about the size of a McNugget and he lives in a gallon-sized fish bowl of the classic 1950′s variety on the island in our kitchen.
Which means he sees us a lot. We’re kitchen people, you see, always hovering around in there, eating and doing dishes and talking and opening the mail and playing with the fly swatters (Henry) and drinking wine (wife) and standing there staring out the window, gazing longingly/wistfully back over the mountains toward the east, toward gay Paris, and then further still, to enchanted Thailand.
Fishley sees it all.
With that it mind, I decided that it might be a cool idea to let our newest family member tell you what exactly he’s been clocking down there in his lukewarm galaxy.
So, here it is: Fishley’s take on life with the Bielankos.
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