oh, i don't even know anymore

I give up. Is this fishy pregnant?

Or is it just really well fed?

You decide.


Sigh. I think I need to get other fish. Or a hobby. This is too much pressure for one wee fishy.

Stephanie

o-m-g, y'all -- immaculate conception?!

Once again, I'm back to ask the epic question plaguing all fishy owners: food or bebehs?! The subject of my inquiry is, of course, Sunshine Daises, since she is my one and only remaining fishy from this summer's death-a-palooza in the tanks. You will note that not so very long ago -- indeed, in my very last post -- I asserted that she could not possibly be preggers, for reasons that should be obvious: she has been alone for months now, making conception. . .unlikely.

But she has grown, people. In a very noticeably preggers-suggesting sort of way. You doubt me?

Let's go to the evidence:

Sunshine Daisies on August 24, 2010. Note the aloofness and generally flat-tummied appearance after her move to the small tank.

And a familiar photo from not very long ago:

This is from September 8, 2010. You'll note that I did realize she had grown, but attributed the wide tummy to gluttony. Perhaps I was wrong.

How do I know?! I submit my final, and most damning evidence:

I mean, Good Lord. This was shot this very evening, September 24, 2010. That is not just food, people. Something else has got to be going on here. An undershot for good measure (note the prominence of the globular belleh:

You also can't see it well in these photos, on account of my having a relatively crappy camera, but the area just behind her belly is darker orange and has black dots in it -- a telltale sign of BEBEHS. (For the nerdier among you, this is called a "gravid spot" in pregnant platies, and the black dots are bebeh fish eyes as they're developing.)

How could this be possible? I went, as I always do, to the interwebs! According to an entry on the discussion boards at TropicalFishKeeping.com, a platy can save sperm and have up to six batches of fry (aka, bebehs) even without a male fish in the tank. Given this possibility, the only thing left to do. . . is wait.

*sits back, watches tank *

I'll let you know how this goes. Fingers crossed for some adorable fishes!

Stephanie

some good news! hurrah!

Not much to report, except that Sunshine Daisies is still alive after my two-week trip home! She's actually gained some weight, too, on account of the automatic feeder I left balanced ever-so-delicately on the edge of the tank:

Normally I would do my whole "food or BABEHS?" bit at this point, but since she's been totally alone for weeks on end now, and since there is a pile of food stacked up on the edge of the aquarium frame where it didn't all make it to the water, I'm going with total and utter gluttony on this one.

I have to note that the placement of a feeder on the tank has not in any way improved my status with Sunshine. Even in this photo, she's totally eyeballing the camera like, "WHAT? You wanna START SOMETHING?" Then she does little bad-ass poses with her fins.

I didn't catch that part on film. But it TOTALLY happened. *nods solemnly *

At any rate, the punchline here is that Sunshine is alive and well, if not respectful or even particularly happy with my return. One out of two ain't bad.

More later. For now, school is about to start, and I must read for my first class! Yay for small victories!

Stephanie

mini fishy crisis. aaaagain.

I am seriously contemplating changing the name of this blog to something more ominous, like fishyfishynuclearaccident or something. Why? Because every time I think things are going fine, something else up and happens, and it's been pretty disastrous since the unexpected birth of the Swimmers.

Take, for example, today's gem. I was cleaning up the apartment today* and actually decided to vacuum, which is one of those things I don't hate to do so much as I just never do it and then I wonder why my carpet doesn't look fresh and tidy, until I finally break down and vacuum and then swear I'm going to do it sooner next time and the cycle begins all over again.

So I'm vacuuming and in the process, I managed to knock the vacuum into the outlet where the big fish tank is plugged in, knocking the filter plug loose. Apparently, this was enough of an electric glitch that it stopped the filter, which I discovered shortly after I finished vacuuming.**

Usually, if a filter has trouble coming back on, I just clean it out (using the tried and true "swish it around under the faucet" method -- very scientific) and it starts right up again. Of course, this was my plan tonight, but alas, it has failed me. And by failed, I mean, refuses to come back on after an HOUR of swishing, cleaning, taking apart, putting back together, spilling and cleaning up tank water, and generally attempting to be a good Fishy Mama when actually failing at life.

So after this struggle, I decided two things: I would have to consult the experts (read: the interwebs) and I would have to move Sunshine Daisies to the empty tank in my bedroom until I could get some kind of water flow going in the big tank.

Moving Sunshine Daisies was not as easy as it sounds. First of all, it took a lot of splashing and swishing of the net to catch her. And then I had to find something to put her in.

This is what I came up with. Note the attitude Miss Thing is giving me despite the life-saving nature of this move:


You know something, Sunshine Daisies? You are not too sexy for that Pyrex, too sexy for that Pyrex, the way you're disco dancing. No you are NOT!

*Julia Child voice* "In fact, you are less than 1/2 cup fishy!"

Anyhow, so I plopped Sunshine Daisies in the small tank in the bedroom, and took to the interwebs to see how to fix the filter. And here is where I should illustrate what I was expecting, and what I actually found. I figured I would type in, "filter broken" or some equivalent and get some basic advice on how to troubleshoot.

Unfortunately, I've already done all the troubleshooting that goes along with this particular filter, so all that was left was this:

Me: How to fix. . .?
Interwebs: DOOOOOOOOMMMM!
Me: Le sigh.

It looks like my filter, which I have cleaned out so well it's no longer running, might need to be replaced. Because, I have the funds for that. Le sigh indeed. At least Sunshine Daisies is happily nestled in the other tank, practicing her aloofness.


That may not look aloof, but in fishy talk, that's equivalent to Paris Hilton saying "that's hot" and leaving. Soooooooo spoiled!

The plan for now is to keep my fingers crossed that the other tank does well for Sunshine and that she doesn't kick the bucket too soon. Other than that, I suspect I'm going to have to clean out the big tank, cycle it, and start over with new fishies. Again.

Until then, or maybe sooner,

Stephanie


* No, really. I clean things other than the fish tanks. Occasionally.
** And by "shortly" I mean 2 to 3 hours. Ish.

the cheese stands alone

Well, if Sunshine Daisies is the cheese, that is.

Why yes, I DID make a sports reference.*

It appears in all my relief at finding treatment drops for using tap water in the tank, I had forgotten one critical element: origin. This is no ordinary tap water. This is CITY WATER. Hardened by tough times and traffic! Crime and dirty alleyways! Subway grates and an unfortunate lack of public restrooms! Oh yes. No mere drops will tame it.

"Stephanie, you over-exaggerate. It's just water, for crying out loud."

OH YES? Let's go to the evidence:


Alas, you probably already see where this is going: LP and Butter Mellow couldn't last. They passed away. *sniffle * Now, Sunshine Daisies seems to be okay, but she swims back and forth at the front of the tank. I suspect she's lonely -- it's a big tank! And she's all by herself!

Looks like we're back to bottled water, folks. Le sigh. Tomorrow: the store. Hopefully that'll make sure Sunshine Daisies lasts until I can head to the classy aquarium across town to fetch her some company.

The saga. . . continues.

Stephanie

*What? I know things.

a new look. . .

. . . to go with my new fishies! Also, there was a button on blogger and expecting me NOT to press the shiny new button is just too.

The kiddos have taken to doing interpretive dance, so I'll have video of that sometime soon. Until then, off to school to work on ze thesis paper.

Stephanie

from the alps to hogwarts: a journey of endurance*

Annnd we're back. Again. After a long hiatus. I have been working / traveling / generally ignoring my online responsibilites this summer, and it must stop! Too much has happened.

First of all, I must announce some truly sad news. The Von Trapp Family Swimmers, in a series of unfortunate occurrences, have bitten ye olde dust.



Causes of death include
1) loitering near, and then getting stuck in, the filter,
2) genetic abnormalities, including stupidity (see above) and "wonky spine," a condition I have expertly diagnosed and named myself, and
3) fishy ebola.


See, what happened was this. Over Fourth of July weekend, my parents and I went blueberry picking with my grandma and my aunt. Hilarious attire and adorable hats ensued. And in addition to getting many, many pounds of blueberries and a ridiculous sunburn on the side of my neck,** I also got the overwhelming urge to get some new fish. The big tank has been doing well since I got it this spring, and the Swimmers, while lovely, have been dying here and there (see causes #1 and #2), leaving me with ten or so -- Preggers and The Kid in the small tank, and the other eight in the large one.

So I ask my parents as they drive me home if we could stop and pick up some more fish. Being generally loving and accomodating people, they agreed.*** The conversation in front of the tanks may have gone like this:

Me: Oooh look at these. * points at fish similar to Maria *
Dad: Are you going to get come cool ones this time?
Me: I cannot believe you don't think my fish are cool. That hurts my soul, Dad.
Dad: But you could get tropical ones this time! Oooh or one of those fancy ones like Finding Nemo.
Me: Those are expensive. Given my success rate, I'd prefer the cheap kind.
Mom: Daniel, let her get what she wants.
Dad: * eyeballing my mom's and my matching patented serious face * I'm going to go look at puppy calendars.

Etc., etc.

After much debate, I decided to continue with platies, since Captain Von Trapp and Maria had done so well, and since I figured the Swimmers would prefer company that did not try to eat them. So I chose five cool-looking platies to bring home and add to the mix. After a journey back to the apartment, I added them to the big tank and watched as they swam, in wonder, around and around.

The first day was delightful! They were so cheerful! So grateful for their new, festive surroundings! I fed them, and instead of hiding from the food, they chowed down before swishing away.

But then the darkness set in.



A day later, I noticed one of the fish was not doing well. He was covered in white spots and one of his fins was almost entirely gone. His tail had little chunks out of it. I immediately took to the interwebs in search of a diagnosis. I thought it was fin rot, but that wasn't quite right. And I thought it was ich, which again turned out not to be right. It was, in short, a mysterious illness eating my fish! I dutifully moved him to the tank with Preggers and The Kid, in hopes that he would be less stressed in a tank with two generally aloof members who ignore everything (particularly their Mommy, ungrateful children).

Alas, it did not help. He died shortly thereafter, and, much to my horror, managed to pass whatever it was to both Preggers and The Kid. A week later, they both died on the same day while I was at work. The fishy ebola struck again.

I was going to insert a photo of Preggers stuck in a plant here, but I seem to have deleted it. *reminiscing voice * I had just flicked on the light to the aquarium, and she freaked out so bad she got wedged in the plant. I totally did not laugh so hard I cried and then get a camera to take photos and mock her. Nope. That did not come to pass.

Meanwhile, in the main tank, another one of my new fish was overcome with the fishy ebola. Then a few of the Swimmers kicked the bucket shortly thereafter. Soon, I was left with the remaining three new fish and two of the Swimmers. I figured the massacre had subsided.

And then, a day later, I found one of the Swimmers stuck ass-end to the filter, just generally hanging out. I freed him and moved him to the other side of the tank. Only to watch him hobble back to the filter and get stuck again. Darwinism at its best, people. He passed away shortly after two more saves, as did his deformed sister, who had taken up residence in the royal treasury:



Sigh. The Swimmers, alas, were no more.

This happened about a week ago, and since then, the remaining three fish have been doing great. So great, in fact, that today I decided it might be time to a) name them and b) update the blog and introduce them.

And so, ladies and gents, may I present -- the newest members of my fishy household:

Butter Mellow,


Sunshine Daisies,


and Lucius's Peacock (LP for short):


"But Steph!" You might be saying. "Why the Harry Potter names? And how do you tell the first two apart? And more generally, WTF?"

Well.

I really didn't have a sense of what to name my fish, so I turned to my friend Jesse. Jesse has a few key qualifications that made her perfect for this job. She generally has very good taste, and this is especially true when it comes to pets. Her cat, Sophie, is a calendar model. No really. Her cat is an actual calendar model. She also has the best collection of belts and cute shoes I've ever seen, all of which, taken together, clearly qualifies her to name fishies.


She suggested the first two names, because apparently I'm a hippie who loves Harry Potter. Actually, that's kind of true, except for the hippie part. But I'm crazy enough that it works. The last name is mine, because the last fish is actually an unusual blue coral platy on account of its black fins. Jesse pointed out that a Death Eater name was most appropriate here, and since I have assorted reasons to think peacocks are evil,**** Lucius's Peacock (LP for short) seemed appropriate.

So that's the new family, peeps. Butter Mellow, Sunshine Daisies, and LP. Fingers crossed things go well and we have many blog posts of ridiculousness to come!

Stephanie


* Title provided by Jesse, who is on a roll with cool names for things today.
** I don't crisp evenly.
*** Why yes, my mother does read this blog.
**** Mostly this is because peacocks have taken over my grandparents' porch in Texas, where they chase my grandmother while she's watering plants, wake them up at all hours of the morning and night, and poo all over everything. Evil evil evil.

water change

I mentioned some months past that, as part of my general fish-caretaker duties, I occassionally change some of their water to keep it fresh and clean and devoid of grossness. Usually, I only have to do this about once a week, but as it turns out, I tried to do it earlier this week and then made the mistake of leaving the blinds open during the day, spawning a massive algae outbreak in both of the tanks.


So, being a good fish mommy,* I decided I would change the water again and see if that helped clear it up.


The only problem with this is that the Swimmers are not a huge fan of the water change process. In fact, I think I am justified in saying they are TOTAL DRAMA QUEENS regarding the whole scenario. Allow me to explain how this goes.


Traditionally, as I bop around the apartment, occasionally tripping and stubbing my toe,** I stop once in a while to gaze adoringly at the tanks. This morning, I did just this, and discovered that the tank in my room was in especially bad shape, and so I decided to remedy the situation. I took out the plants, put them in some mildly soapy water, and emptied about 20% of the tank's water to prep for the water change.


At this point I realized you should fully understand what I was up against, and so I present. . . THE SITUATION:





You'll note how nice the new water looks. And that it is in a Poland Spring bottle, because up until recently, I also used spring water for the fish. Not for me, mind you, but for the fish. (I have a Brita filter on the faucet, which recently betrayed me by cracking and spraying a jet of water up toward my face every time I tried to use it. Bastard.) Now, I have a slightly different system, which I'll get to in a minute.

Anyhow, since I was going to be cleaning the tank and the plants, I decided I had to take the fish out. Preggers and The Kid were greatly unamused.




This photo is actually a good chance for me to mention that I am still not positive that Preggers is, in fact, with child. Or with fishies, as it were. Yes, the life of a fish owner is constantly plagued by that epic question --


I still can't tell. Figures.


Anyhow. Back to my tale of woe. The actual water change is not that big of a deal. It looks like this:



To the fishes, however, apparently it is like this:





They swim around like mad, then take shelter, then sulk for the better part of the weekend if I change the water while they're still around. (But they're none too happy to be plopped in a tupperware while I clean, either, so my little divas really need to make up their minds.)

But lo! The water changing process is not done! I have recently bought a water conditioner to use so that I can put tap water into the tanks instead of spring water, which is a) a lot of money and b) hard to lug in bulk when you live in ze city.

Look! It even has BioExtract, which . . . does something awesome for the water! Wohoo! So I put the water conditioner into the tank (a few drops), stir it around, and then, the final touch: aquarium salt. About a teaspoon, to be exact. It's like rock salt, only specially formulated for freshwater aquariums.




Why salt, you ask? Because it is a natural gill enhancer and stress reliever.*** In short, it is fishy prozac, and after their ordeal, they need it. So I sprinkle a little of that in, add back the now clean plants, and finally put the fishes back in their tank.

Where they immediately flee and hide from me for two days. Ungrateful punks. Le sigh. Parenthood.

Stephanie

*And one facing her exams, which OMGHASNOTHINGTODOWITHTHIS.
** You and me are SO OVER, coffee table.
*** Or something.

updates! omg!

Wot's this? An update?!

Yes, dear readers, I am actually updating the blog. It's loooong overdue, and I have many excuses ready. This semester has been a bear, and while it is not over yet, I have only now reached the ultimate nirvana of procrastination that could lead me to update my long-neglected blog.* And so much has happened with the fishes! And by "so much," I mean, "THEY GOT BIGGER."

"Bigger? Pshhh. How much bigger?"

I submit for your consideration:

The fishes, as we last saw them in December 2009:

Wee little turds, they are! LADDIES AND LASSES!

And the fishies about a week ago, in their small tank, feeding like the sassy gluttons they were born to be:

If you listen closely, you can actually hear them going, "glump, glump, glump. . ." That is a fishy chewing noise, detectible only to the trained fishy-rearing ear.**

But that is not all that has shaken the fishies world, oh no! After reviewing the literature on my ever-steadfast arsenal of crazy fish people discussion boards (where one can actually get flamed for dissing guppies or goldfish, I shit you not), I discovered that I had a minor problem. You see, conventional wisdom is that you need a certain amount of free space in your water to allow your fishes to thrive. In particular, you should have about a gallon of water per inch of fishy, a metric also known as the "poo is not food OMG DO NOT EAT THAT FISHIES!" rule. In recent weeks,*** the Von Trapp Family Swimmers had reached critical mass on this count. There are about 12 or 13 of them, and at 1/2 to an inch apiece, they were a bit too much for my wee six gallon tank.

So I did what any intrepid fishy mommy would do. I gathered my ale and vittles, saddled up, and clicked my way over to Amazon. And behold! The fruits of my labors: The Marineland Eclipse Total Filtration System 12. The flagship tank of the Marineland Eclipse line, and the Swimmers' new home! Do I smell another comparison coming on? INDEED I DO.

The original tank, in all its teeny glory:

Serviceable, compact. And home to far too many fishies for its size.

And the new tank, its hulking presense totally redefining my living room:

I haven't gotten rid of the old tank, mind. It has been relocated to my bedroom, where it houses a fish I'm about 85% sure is pregnant and a companion fish to keep her from going insane. I call them Preggers and The Kid.

The rest of the fish are hanging out in the main tank, and hopefully once Preggers pops, I'll be able to put her and The Kid in the big tank and use the little one for the wee incestuous babies. Fingers crossed, people.

That's all for now. I sense finals season is heating up, though, so we should be back in business on the updating front. Wohoo for spring!

Stephanie

*Why, yes, finals ARE just a week away. How did you know?

** Slash, ridiculous fish owner.

*** Months. Whatever. I've been busy.