Huge Fish Eats Child

Okay, not really. But it sounded like a fun topic.

My wonderful husband wanted to dust off the old family aquarium and set it up for our son. We had a thirty-gallon tank for the first few years we lived in this house and it was fun…initially. Until I learned that cleaning a 30-gallon tank was a pain in the patootie. So, when our son was still an infant, I traded the fish for store credit at a local pet store and boxed up the aquarium.

A side story, if you will. One of the last fish I had to get out of the aquarium (before taking the thirty or so fish to the store) nearly proved to be the death of me. I hate touching fish. Can’t stand it. Especially twitchy fish who jerk around like they’re Linda Blair, possessed by demons. We had one mother of an algae eater, probably two pounds or so, about eight inches in length. Yes, really. And I had to somehow transport him to the pet store. He was too big for a Zip Loc, so I got a bucket. He was too big for my fish net. Somehow, I managed to nudge him into the large bucket and I thought I was home free. Then he decided to take his own leap toward freedom (cue the “Born Free” soundtrack) and landed on the carpeted office floor, flopping around like crazy. Instead of scooping him back in the bucket, I threw a towel on him and screamed, “Honey!!! Help!!!” My marvelous husband leaped up the stairs and proceeded to rescue the poor demented critter while I quivered in a shrinking mass of pitiful fish-nerves. Did I mention I hate touching fish?

So when the idea came up of reviving the tank, I compromised. We could put the smaller tank up, on the condition that I would not have to clean it. He agreed. (The angels sang, the heavens opened forth….)

Tonight my son picked out three Neon Tetras for the tank. I’m hoping that they survive for quite a while because I’m not quite ready for the Pet Death conversation.

In other news, I received an interesting letter from Dorchester on my first book My Wild Irish Rogue. This book, I believe, has lots of potential but it has issues that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. The letter informed me that, while I did not make the finals for American Title, she thought the opening chapter in the heroine’s point of view was hilarious (her exact word. And yes, I’m thrilled with that.) :headspin: She wrote (handwriting, people! NOT a typed letter!:hello2: ), “I would have preferred if the wry wit continued.” She marked my weakness (it had a checklist too) as the hero.

Huh. Maybe that was my problem. Maybe my hero wasn’t as developed, not quite man enough for the heroine. Well, there you go. Now I know what to fix. So entering the contest was a good thing for me and I have a better sense of my strengths and weaknesses.