Goldfish: Past and Present

I had goldfish as a little girl.  I remember when my Dad took me to Kmart and bought me a 10-gallon aquarium. He let me pick which rocks I wanted (azure blue) and which statue I wanted (a magenta and purple grotto) and finally which fish.  Out of the tank of 89-centers I picked my fave.  And named him Goldy.
When Goldy died, I got Goldy 2.
Followed by Goldy 3.
And then Goldy 4.
And the suffixed numbers in their name were pronounced.  If someone asked my fish's name I would tell them, "Goldy Three." 
After Goldy 4 my next fish was Neptune.  He was also a goldfish.  Maybe it was a break of the Goldy Curse but I had Neptune so long and he go so big I called and donated him to the Pittsburgh Zoo.  He needed a bigger habitat than I could provide.  As an adult, this story seems far-fetched.  I was 10.  I had a goldfish I thought was outgrowing it's aquarium so I called the zoo.  And with my altruistic heart, donated my .89 cent fish to the zoo.  What a philanthropist!

When we moved back to Idaho Falls, this past Thanksgiving, I took the boys over to see my neighbor Lee.  He and his wife are also from da Burgh and live right behind us.  In his basement he had 3 huge 'UGE aquariums.  The big 55 gallon monsters.  The boys were mezza-merized.   The next day Lee called and said he was gonna give the boys one of his aquariums for Christmas if I was okay with it.  Psht.  Hell Yeah!  Lee kept his fish and we got one gorgeous tank.  In time (after the proper bacteria had accumulated) we got three little fish of our own.  I named mine Ari Gold, Ken named him Gilligan, and Kole was at a loss on what to name his.  I started naming some names he liked; "Gordon," "Thomas," "Scotty," "Koley," "Charlie," "Tony,"
At which point Kole yelled, "Yeah!  PONY!"
So Tony became Pony and we had our fish named.
Now little Pony had some birth defects.  He looked like a hunchback goldfish.  His poor fin was stunted and he looked like he'd been picked on a lot.  I felt bad for Pony.  There goes that over-sized heart again.  I did my best to treat Pony well...nay.  I did my best to treat Pony way better than the other fish.
Which, I mean, is hard to do with fish.
But I'd put in extra food in where he was swimming and... well... that's it.
Come on.  What other ways are there?
I did always tell Kole and Joey to be nice to him and not talk about his funny fin.
He was our fish. And we were happy to have him. And we loved him no matter what.
I really felt good to have Pony safe in our tank.
Where no other fish could pick on him.
Or call him mean Fish Names behind his dorsal.  Or post rumors on their Fish Facebook pages.  Or unkindly mimic his crooked swimming.
He was safe from all the bullying in my tank.  Under my aquatic maternal wing.
Things were calm under the water.
But then one day, at dinner time, I noticed Pony chasing Ari and Gil away from the food.  He'd just swim real fast by them and kinda surprise them so they'd swim away.
I was shocked!
"Pony!  Be nice to them!"
Which probably sounded like "OOOnnnnnnN!  Ooouu gauoouuu mmmm!"
You know.  *clears throat* Under water sounds weird.
I tapped on the glass by him as a warning.  You know.  I'm in charge, Pony.  You listen up!
Needless to say my disciplining had no effect WHATsoever!
Pony just kept pestering the other fish. And not just at breakfast and dinner.  He was bullying them for pleasure.

 The drilling is Ken working on our shelving- but it kinda fits the scene.  Does it not?

When I discussed the issue with Ken- he was completely flippant.
"They're fish, babe."
"Yes.  They are.  And one fish is mistreating the other fish."
He didn't seem all too bothered by it.  Where's your heart, man!

I stayed up thinking about Pony:
He was probably bullied at some point in his life.
He looks weird.  He swims funny.  I bet he's been made fun of.
He's probably had a hard time making friends.  He's just passing it on.  He doesn't know any better.  This is how bullies are.
Maybe he comes from a single-parent home.  Maybe he's missed out on loving relationships.
Maybe he's suffering from depression or anxiety.  Maybe he misses the big tank at the pet store.
Maybe he views himself negatively and just needs steady positive reinforcement.

At this point I started dreaming up my business cards:
Patty Poulsen, PhD
Fish Psychologist

For 3 days I watched Pony bully my other two fish.
I watched Ari and Gilligan try to make themselves shrink and swim in smaller and smaller circles.
No amount of glass tapping and above-to-underwater scolding was reaching this dang fish!
One morning.  I woke up.  And Gil and Ari were hiding in the plant while Pony swam circles around them occasionally nosediving at them.
That was it!  I could justify his behavior...NO MORE!
I got a Mason jar.  Filled it up.  And scooped Pony into it.
"You're in Solitary Confinement today, Mister!  That's right The SHU!  Get used to it, Meanie!"


My next step was obvious.
Call the pet store.
They told me their policy for aquatic animals was 14 days for full refund.
So, after the kids went to bed, and after a full day in The Box for Pony I toted him back to Petco.
Their first question after realizing he wasn't dead was "Is he sick?"
I explained he was perfectly healthy and that he was just mean.
The two men just stared at me.
"What?," I said.
"You are returning him... because... he's mean?"
"Yeah." (I was not getting their surprise.)  "He's a bully.  And he's terrorizing my other fish and I don't want him in my aquarium.  He's too mean."
They just kept staring at me.  Mouths a-dropped.
So I continued, "Your return policy stipulates 14 days.  I'm under that mark.  I no longer want this aggressive fish.  I am returning him.  I have my receipt."
At which time I handed over Pony.  In the jar.  With my receipt.
And you bet your butt I got my dollar sixty-five back. Psht.  I also told the pet store people they should let prospective buyers know about Pony's past.  But I think they quit listening after they handed me my change and dumped Pony back in the tank with 35 other one-inch goldfish.

A few days later, after Ari and Gil felt comfortable swimming in the open water again we got 3 more fish to complete our aquarium.

And, thank heaven, they all seem to be getting along swimmingly.

Harvey

Gilligan (Gil)

CiCi

Shelby

Ari Gold

L is for Lines

Today I was waiting in line at Costco to pickup my prescription.  When I got there I was 5th in a slow line.  By the time one customer was cared for- 4 or 5 other people were in line behind me.  Now, at Costco, a line just kinda forms down one of the aisles and as good citizens and Costco cardholders one would seek out that line and find their place at the end of it. 
After roughly 20 minutes I was second line.  I stood behind an elderly couple... probably in their eighties.  As we were waiting there a man came walking towards the pharmacy from the aisles of groceries.  I'd peg him in his late fifties early sixties.  He was obviously eye-ing the Pharmacy.  And get this... he walks up, sees the line, and takes his place... next to the couple in their eighties.  Not behind them... not at the back of the line where he was supposed to go.  The pharmacist says, "Next" and the man gestures for the really old couple to go first.  Oh how generous he is!  To let the people who have been waiting to go ahead of him.  What a gem.
At this point, I'm getting that really hot ball in my heart.  The one I get before I pick a fight with a stranger. I can feel it coming... an unnecessary quarrel.  So I tell myself, Patty.  Patty.  Listen.  He's older than you.  Respect your elders.  Ken is waiting in the car with the kids.  Just stay calm.  Make this easy and let him go first.  It doesn't matter that he "broke rules."  You're not his mom.  This isn't your place.  Just... leave it.  But my feet started shuffling and I was biting my lips and my hands were white fists.
The elderly couple was swiping their card.  The time was coming.
Out of the corner of my eye I see the line cutter looking at me.  What was his plan?  To pretend he's been in line for 20 minutes?
"Next."
Me and the guy who jipped in line met eyes.
A wave of the hand would have been easy.  I can't do it!
So:
Patty:  Do you think you are next?
Man: (head tilted smiling)  I just need to get some pills.
Patty:  (head tilting and also smiling)Yeah.  We all just need to get some pills.  That's why we're waiting in line at the Pharmacy.
Man:  Yeah.  But it'll be so quick.
Patty:  I don't think you should be allowed to cut everyone in line because you think it'll be "so quick."  Mine will be quick too.  The people behind me will be quick.  We all planned on just running in and running out.  Didn't work that way today.
Man:  I don't really need to be in that line for what I need.
Patty:  Hmmm.  Really?  I had to be in that line.  But-  if you think you can get what you need in less than 30 seconds.  You can go.  And I will be timing you!

The guy smiled.  As he was walking towards the counter he asked for a bottle of some Gold Mineral Vitamins or something.  The pharmacy tech tossed him a bottle that was kept on the shelves behind the counter.  The man caught it, as he was still walking.  He held it up to me with a wink and smile.  I couldn't help but smiling back.  He gave me a pat on the back and told me "Thanks."  We had bonded.
See?  All kind of fun things can happen when you're waiting in line.

But uh... as a P.S.... it doesn't always end so pleasantly.
This one time I fought with a man a Winco about bagels.  Post here.
Or another time this lady at the University Bookstore wouldn't let me sell books back.  Enjoy here.
One time a neighbor passive aggressive-ly put an op ed article in my mailbox about dogs barking.  That didn't work.  Read the face to face confrontation here.

I don't look for these situations.  They find me. 
That and I listen to a lot of Jock Jams.

Last Year's A to Z : L is for Longevity  I think the perfect age is 60 and I explain why I can't wait to have my AARP card.

Dollar Store Drama

I was at the Dollar Store this past week.  Very interesting (and somewhat stinky,sticky, and grimy) place.  I needed a picture frame for Koley's room.  Boom.  Dollar store.  There were 3 people in front of me in the singular lane they had open.  Both had carts full of things.  No biggie.  I never mind waiting in line.  The first lady was wearing this big wavy shawl and looked to have cleared out the Christmas decorations.  The checker was scanning all these miniature nutcrackers and he was on like the 17th one and she said, "Wait.  Are those only a dollar?"  Apparently I was the only one who thought that was funny because I busted out laughing. Aaaaaand no one else did. The checker didn't even look up he just said, "Yeah."  And the woman ran off to get more. 
I mean.
Come on.
Everything in the Dollar Store is a dollar.  It's the premise of the store.  Everything in her cart he scanned before the nutcrackers were a dollar.  Each of the 17 scanned so far were a dollar.  How did she not grab hold of the idea?  I figured by the looks of her cart she certainly knew everything was a dollar.  She walked in under the huge green sign that said "Everything's 1.00"  Her total was $133.92.  I think the most I've spent at the dollar store was $12.  On balloons.
Then there was a couple that was probably in their late 60s or early 70s.  They had around 20 things and as they were leaving and I saw the man's cane leaning against the scan belt thing.  So, I said, "Sir, you forgot your cane."  I said it with a smile, may I add.  The man said all gruffly, "It's a WALKING STICK!" 
Sure looked like a cane to me... but it being the Yuletide... I kept it in and said, "Well, I don't want you to be missing your walking stick."  Still smiling! 
He snaps back:
"I only use it for balance!"
.....
I was kind of at a loss for words.  I mean.  I obviously offended him by calling it a cane.  Which it was.  Crooked top.  Rubber stopper on the end. That little black cloth loop used to put around your wrist.  Used for balance.  It was a cane by definition.
But I didn't want this old guy more bent of shape than he already was.
I smiled at him and said, "Merry Christmas, sir."
"It's not a cane!  I don't need a cane!  This is a walking stick!"
At this point he was shaking his cane at me.  And I figured... what the hell.
"Well I'm SORRY I called your walking stick a cane.  I'm not up to date on the differences.  It looked like a cane.  You were going to forget it.  I was reaching out!  Helping a brother in need!  From now on...."
He interrupted:
"Young lady!  This is a walking stick!  Look at it!  Not a cane!  I get dizzy sometimes!  I have weak knees!  It's to help me walk!  It's a walking stick!"
"That's a cane. And I think someone just told you it was a walking stick to make you feel better."
"You're WRONG!," he shouted.  His wife started tugging at his coat. 
"I just didn't want you to forget it, man."
"I'm not forgetful!  And I don't need a cane!"
Erroneous on both accounts.
But, I told him Merry Christmas again and gave him a wink.
And you know what?
He winked back.

Goodwill to men after all.

Failing a Swim Test

Yesterday I took Koley to a local pool.  You have to pay to get in and they only let you swim for an hour and a half before the blow the whistle, make everyone get out of the pool, and recharge you if you want to get back in.  Sorta lame- but with a little one- and it being a real scorcher yesterday- I knew an hour and a half would be just the ticket.  I brought my little neighbor girl, Jasmine, with me.
The pool is roped off in 3 sections and forms an "L".  The shorter bottom part of the "L" is the kiddie section.  It goes from 2-3 feet.  Then when you start up the long leg of the "L" about three quarters of it is for adolescents I guess (?)  it's 4-5 feet.  And then there is one more rope and past that rope it goes up to 10 feet and there is a diving board.  I know, heaven on earth, right?  That's where I like to hang out.  Or did before the Kole-one.  The deep end.  Where the wild things are.
In order to go into the deep end or jump off the diving board you have to pass a swimming test.  I'm not kidding.  No matter how old you are you have to wait in line by the lifeguard and then swim the width of the pool.  Which might be 20 feet?  Piece of cake.  Piece of crumb cake.  (name that movie Julie and Andi)
So...yesterday I am there and I give Koley to Jasmine because I want to do a cannonball.  And, lucky me, there is no line for the swimming test.  Now, one more thing... I had a pool growing up.  I know how to swim.  I know the strokes.  I swam everyday I was in Germany for exercise.  I swim laps.  I'm an astute swimmer and find this test to be silly and ridiculous if you are over let's say 12 years old.  I ask if I can take the test and the girl (maybe 16...dressed like she's 19..all tan with her tank hanging off one shoulder... and HUGE glasses.. chewing on a straw) anyway, she nods.  I swim effortlessly from one side of the pool to the other.  Perfect strokes, even breathing, loving that water gliding over me.  I even showed off a little and did one of those flip kicks like the Olympians do on the other side to head back.  I mean A+ job right?
I stop and look up at the lifeguard smiling.
"You have to do it again.  You didn't keep your head in the water," she informed me.
What?!  Didn't keep my he- "Excuse me?"
"You have to re-take it.  You need to keep your head down in the water."
"Why would you want me to keep my head in the water?  I can't breathe like that.  I was taught to turn with the strokes (pantomimes stroke and head turn) it makes sense.  The point of swimming is being able to keep your head above the water not in it."  That was my defense atleast.

She raised her eyebrows.  "I'm not letting you in the deep end until you pass."
"I just passed."
"No.  You didn't.  Like I said you didn't keep your head in the water.  You failed."

I look around.  A line of kids is forming.  And they are watching me.  Fine.
I head back across the pool with my head flat down in the water but it feels so unnatural.  And I can't breathe or see and I don't know where I am.  I feel like I am flopping like a hooked fish.  I tread water for a second while I glance up to see how far I have to go.  "HEAD DOWN!"  Eeeeks! Swim swim swim.  I reached the other side and paused for a second.  Touched the bottom and started back.  I ran right into the wall because again- I had no idea where I was in the pool.
I was angry and embarrassed.  There were about 10 kids in line all looking at me.  Waiting for me to get out of their way so they can start having fun.  I doubt any of them know how to swim the right way.  They might be able to stay afloat but hey are not English Channel material
The lifeguard says, "You touched the ground."
"Yes.  I did for like a second."
"And you stopped in the middle."
"I didn't know where I was."
"You have to re-take it."
"WHAT?!"
"You have to re-take it."
"I'm not re-taking this stupid test.  I know how to swim.  I think I have proved that.  When I go off the diving board I know I'll be able to swim to the side.  Trust me!  I can swim and I'm not swimming across this pool for a THIRD time!"
"Then, I'm going to kick you out and not let you swim at all.  Rules are rules, ma'am."

I was fuming.  1.  I hate it when people (especially people younger than me) call me ma'am.  I'm not even in my late twenties yet!  That hardly qualifies me as a "ma'am."  2.  Rules are rules but this one is so stupid.  I get that they don't want little kids not knowing how to get from the middle of the pool to the side of the pool in the deep end.  Safety first and bravo.  But I'm a qualified swimmer.  And, yes, I touched at the edge, and I stopped to see where I was- but I made it there and back without drowning.  That should be a gold star and a "Pass."  3.  Quit humiliating me.

I didn't say any of that to her.  I just glared. All the kids in line started splashing impatiently.
I simply started back across the pool.  Head down.  Feet up.  Pissed off.

I only went off the dumb diving board once.
And that lifeguard girl stared at me the whole time.
Ugh.