Leviathan

So it has been almost two months since my last blog entry. Whoops. Last year, after I came home from teaching and supervising the education of 20 or so juveniles, and as I sat surrounded by lesson plan materials for my four and a half hour history lesson for the following day, I would fantasize about all the free time I would have once I became a full-time mom and all of the things I would do with that free time. Yet it takes all of my mental and physical capabilities just to care for my gorgeous little daughter, keep my house in a somewhat orderly fashion, and stay on top of my day to day responsibilities. I need to work on developing my super mom powers I took for granted in my own mother growing up. Time to spring clean (well, summer clean now I guess) my life. I'll keep you updated how it all goes :)

Anyways, back to my intended topic: Leviathan, the fish who would not die. I thought that I could possibly make that into an inspirational children's book title, but its morbidity prevents me from doing so. I was the one who brought Lev into our family two years ago as a "ask Andrew to a dance" prop. Leviathan was an...um, how should I say it...intense fish in his prime. I would walk pass him on the way to the kitchen, and he would follow me, fins flared in attack mode, biting at the glass with this look in his eye that said, "If we were in the open ocean, I would gnaw your toes off." (I think this gives backing to my fear of water. Fish just don't like me.)

For the last 6 months, though, Lev has been an ill, decrepit fish. Andrew has offered him life support through lovingly administered medicine, but everyday I would have to shake the tank to see if he would twitch or show other signs of life. It was creepy. Finally, this last week, Lev gave up the ghost. (Phew)
We have decided to cremate the little guy and give him a proper warrior funeral down at the river. So here's to you, Lev. Enjoy the big fish bowl in the sky, little buddy.