Shot Myself in the Foot with a Bullet Journal

You and I have often talked about how to maintain goals we set. And those we don’t keep…

Click on the journal for a peek at so many images of Bullet Journal pages...

Click on the journal for a peek at so many images of Bullet Journal pages...

 This month—beginning Monday, Feb. 1stI pledged to begin an intensive picture book study, committing to at least 5 hours a day studying/reading/writing picture books. I’ve “pledged” before, but life…especially “important” family and work commitments keep getting in the way. Sound familiar?

This study commitment will require fortitude and organization. A writer friend of mine, Cindy Faughnan, recently set herself up with a Bullet Journal. A tuck it into your purse or pocket paper-pen-ink-no-battery-required journal. In support, she sent me a link to a basic How-To Bullet Journal U-tube video. Here's the link: The Analog System in the Digital Age.

After viewing, I bought my journal—bright pink—selected “the” pen, and following the step-by-step instructions, began setting up my journal. But I had a few questions…  

Turns out this Bullet Journal video is not a one-off; it’s part of a cult-er…craze…er website. There's a library! A Blog! A Store!!!! And slews of videos featuring other bullet journal aficionados showing & explaining their particular journaling styles. Too many . . . 

My excitement over this simple little system turned to angst.

  • Was I numbering correctly?
  • Bulleting, dashing, circling, arrowing appropriately?
  • Were my squares large enough?
  • Too large?
  • Should I color code it? Is that twee? Or just one pen? If one, which?
  • Should I write my goals on the front cover or first page?
  • Should my Future Log go across or down?
  • Should I copy a calendar and tape it in. Or create my own.
  • How many pages would I need for my monthly/daily task lists?...
  • How many other pages—books, movies, words, ideas, goals, writing project, house projects…what am I forgetting?
  • What if I mess it up?!!

                         I can not have an ugly Bullet Journal…

 After ripping out and starting over a few times,  I quit. I had to. My Bullet Journal was on the verge of being pageless.

BTW: This study includes returning to writing Morning Pages ala Julia Cameron’s Artist’s Way.  Here's a link to a video explaining Cameron's Morning Pages.

 Feb. 3. was a dark day. I woke worrying about how I was going to continue my planned picture book intensive study if I couldn’t even manage a Bullet Journal?  

In the wee hours before morning I laid in bed driving myself crazy thinking about this Bullet Journal and all the other to-dos on my list, when It dawned on me how instead of mentally agonizing, I could agonize on the page and thus at least accomplish something…my Morning Pages!

Trouble was, I couldn't find any paper on which to write my Morning Pages. The last notebook I'd used to write Morning Pages was full. And I couldn’t find another one…anywhere. Was I destined to fail at this, too??

I’ve often thought these Morning Pages should be called Mourning Pages,’re saying farewell to life as you knew it.
— Julia Cameron on how morning pages should we whinny, petty, grumpy...

Then something one of the gals in one of those “Let Me Show You MY Bullet Journal” videos popped into my head. She’d been sharing how she had refashioned her weekly task list from the previous year and then, after all that work, said: “I’m going to try it. If I don’t like it, I’ll do something else next month…”

  Hallauah!!! (Que the Choir!)

 This is MY Journal. There was no rule saying it could “only” be a Bullet Journal... Or that it had “last” for a year... Or more than a month…Or be pretty...  

There was only one rule: If it’s going to work, it has to work for me.

I flipped half-way back and begin my morning pages there.  Done.

. . . Minor problem. The page number? (Every Bullet Journal has an index to each section.)

Click on the pic to see more

Click on the pic to see more

Very handy, but . . . Should I count all the pages so I could number the page about half-way back, I’d designated Morning Pages 1? Or write my darn Morning Pages?

 I made the tough decision: I stuck a post-it sticky on the first Morning Page—so I could find the spot again, took a breath and especially pleased to know that everything I needed to begin my days—my new Bullet Journal, pen, stick-notes & designated Morning Pages pages all in one tidy book—I began to write…

 If you’ve stuck with me through this entire post, I have no doubt you’re thinking—boring… tedious...if this is the worst of her worries… What a waste… a waste of time…hers and mine.

It’s tedious for me, too. That’s my whole point.

 Agonizing, doubt, questioning, beating myself up, aka “worry” is, in the words of Ben Franklin “Interest paid on trouble before it is due.” 

 But, “worry” is what I do.  If I'm going to play, I have to payfirst. That's how I roll. I have to circle before I can begin anew.  I have to get to that place where I am willing to allow myself to tear out a few pages, let go, make mistakes. Only then can I find my way in. This time, it was creating new routine. Next time, it will be something else…

 Trust in the Process. (I’m writing that in my Bullet Journal.)

...On a new page, that I'll number, and add to the index, so I can turn to it easily P.R.N. 

What a Difference a Smile Makes...

All was Sunshine, Lollipops & Rainbows last Saturday morning when I took Bennett and Michelle to the airport. He and his mama were winging their way north to Anchorage, Alaska to join Max.

On Jan 4, Max began a new job as an "Arctic Marine Biologist" with Audubon Alaska. (I've linked it here to the announcement on the Audubon website, so click on over to read about Max and what he'll be doing.)

Michelle was due to report for her new position as Labor and Delivery RN, BSN at Providence Alaska Medical Center, Monday.

Yes, this move came suddenly, with less than a month to pack up and ship out, they'd had to scramble, but in a good way.  Although no one in our Tulsa family, was happy to see them leave, everyone: Barb, Chelsie, Bonnie, John, Rhonda, Chris & Parker pitched in to help them move. I flew in for the last week.

Their reunion Sunday was joyous and exciting! Then came Monday….

Max and Michelle had tried hard to get Bennett into a good daycare. There is a serious childcare crisis in Anchorage. All the “best” ones have a waiting list--about a year long--and costs about $1100 per month. So they found one that “seemed” good, Max checked it out and paid a deposit. They had to pack Bennett’s lunch each day, but no big deal.

When Michelle dropped Bennett off, no one seemed especially interested in him. No adult smiled. Patted him. Commented on his dinosaur.  He came home asking about his old teachers in his old school. To be expected. And a nasty, raw diaper rash...

The next day, Tuesday, Max took him to daycare. Bennett didn’t want Max to leave. “Stay and play with me.” So Max did for a bit. But he is in a conference all this week and had to leave. And Michelle was already at work. Max pulled himself away from Bennett…who understood "Dada" had to work. With a “see you later," waved goodbye.

Before driving off, Max paused to return a missed call. As it happened, he'd parked his car so it looked inside the day care. While he made his call he watched Bennett through the window. Bennett took his dinosaurs and sat down. No one spoke to him, or interacted. Staffers walked past him without a pat or a word.  Max said Bennett sat there for a bit with his dinosaurs, then he put his head down and cried.

 Work was work. A paycheck is a paycheck. Even Bennett knows that. Max went to the conference.

As soon as he could get away, about 2:00 pm, Max raced back to get Bennett. It was outdoor time: Bennett’s hat was on inside out, his boots were on the wrong feet, and his shirt tail was stuck inside his soggy diaper. Max was putting Bennett's boots on the right feet when the owner/operator came by.

“Oh, ,”the man said, “Bennett, did you put your boots on the wrong feet?”

Max glared at him. “He’s two,” Max spat. “He doesn’t put on his own boots.” Then he marched to Bennett’s cubicle, scooped up all his belongings and they left.

Michelle and Max’s co-workers stepped up when they heard this story. Everyone scrambled to find a better place for Bennett. The daycare at Michelle’s work—Providence Hospital—which can take B when he’s 3--agreed to let Bennett go there Wednesday, to give M&M time to find a better daycare. And, the director recommended some facilities. I believe she even made some calls, as did Michelle, until they found a spot in one.

On Wednesday, when we spoke—Max and I—Bennett was at Providence for the day, “running around the playground roaring like a tiger.”

Better news, Max called back that night. The daycare they wanted, near Max’s work and well-respected, Tundra Tykes, had a place for Bennett, so he started this Monday.

Two days in and so far so good! Tundra Tykes, doesn't cost any more than that first day care, however the staff is able to include diaper changes--and smiles--as part of the service. Fancy that!

Bennett’s daycare future is bright. Because His parents could take the time, have the resources, the job security education brings, the confidence to say "This is not right. My child deserves to be well treated."

But, I can't help thinking about those other children stuck in that day care... Where's their much deserved smile?

What a Difference Playlist:

Wanna keep in touch? Click on SUBSCRIBE  to receive email notification when entries are posted on Kelly's Fishbowl.

Technical Difficulties

Technically speaking, the technical difficulties have been all mine. Truth is, I have been avoiding anything technical. It started during the Hustle-Bustle Ho-Hos of the holiday season and has continued through most of January. Then yesterday, a certain song popped into my head:

"Hello! It's been awhile..."

As I was singing along, I realized it was true:

"I really just wanted to talk to you..."

As y'all know--all y'all who've followed my blog for a while--the Fishbowl is really not a blog, and I'm not your typical blogger. Rather than blog "posts", I tend to write travelogues, commentary, memoir... whatever comes to mind that I want--need--to share. I've been writing this not-really-a-blog for more than 10 years now. And I like it.

So, I'm back! My posts may not be timely, or usual, but they'll keep coming, just as long as those songs keep running through my head.  Tune in!

Happy 2016 wishes to you!

Technical Difficulties Playlist:

Wanna keep in touch? Click on SUBSCRIBE  to receive email notification when entries are posted on Kelly's Fishbowl.

Pick A Winner

Volumes of thoughts by Great Thinkers have been published...How will thoughts of today's Great Thinkers be preserved?

Volumes of thoughts by Great Thinkers have been published...How will thoughts of today's Great Thinkers be preserved?

My Mom's writing letter again... Some arrive with a bonus "Pick Your Own Adventure" component!

Remember letters? Those pages covered in thoughts, questions, memories set down in scribbles that most often didn’t, resemble any of those available in Word, with font sizes that, in my mother's case, flagrantly vary from 8 pt to 24 line to line, or word to word? (If yours is a post-1985 birthday, you might not…)

Writing letter fell out of favor with Mom, too, for scores of years, as did a lot of things… (Who knows, she might start some of those “other things” back up again, too... Let’s not think of the ramifications and implications of that, now.)

Santa letter.jpg

For purposes of this post, let’s return to Mom’s letters. She started sending them shortly after she started reading the Reno Gazette. I won’t say she started reading the newspaper “again” because I can’t recall my mother ever before reading a newspaper, or watching the news. Not since Walter Cronkite retired, anyway. (If yours is a post-1985 birthday, you might not be familiar with Walter Cronkite. For the record, Ron Burgundy might never have been if not for him.)

Will Ferrell's Ron Burgundy came after Walter...way after!

Will Ferrell's Ron Burgundy came after Walter...way after!

Walter Cronkite.jpg


Cronkite was the CBS Evening News Anchorman of my youth. For that matter, heaps of other pre-1985 era folks, too. For the record, he was the first “anchor of American network television's first nightly half-hour news program.” Cronkite ended his Anchorman career the way he did every night's broadcast: “And that's the way it is: Friday, March 6, 1981."

With a twist announcing he was handing over the reins: "I'll be away on assignment, and Dan Rather will be sitting in here for the next few years. Good night."

Mom’s letters arrive like happy little mailbox bursts, decorated with stickers, glitter, slogans, stars, ANYTHING that will stick to an envelope. I’m thinking they must brighten my mail carrier, Candye’s otherwise dull deliveries. (I’ll have to ask her one day.)  I wonder who Candye thinks is sending the letters? (Reading other people's mail is a Federal Offence, so legally she shouldn't be reading beyond the address.) 

Mom was sending Family History Letters. She wanted to record all about our ancestors before she died. She dedicated each letter to one family member, or decade, or event—as the mood struck her. She made copies of these memoirs and mail them to everyone in our immediate family and a few cousins and friends.

After a few months, we ran out of family history or mom ran out of memories, whichever. All I know is one day the history letters stopped and notes with magazine and newspaper clippings started.

After those drear Family History Letters, Mom’s Notes with Clippings come as a welcome relief. Now that she’s a subscriber, Mom reads the newspaper every day cover-to-cover and while doing so, clips out articles of interest and mails them to us. For grandson Bennett, she cuts out articles and photos of animals. For me, recipes she’d like to eat, beauty tips she’d like me to try (sparkle eye shadow, pants with peek-a-boo legs), human-interest aka photos of “new citizens” being sworn in dressed as hot dogs, and horoscopes.

Always her and my horoscopes: Virgo & Leo.

Receiving out-of-date horoscopes irritated me no end. Why?

  1.  What good is reading out-of-date advice?
  2. Often, Mom cut off the Sun Sign so I didn’t know whose it was—Virgo or Leo or?
  3. Sometimes she cut off part of the horoscope—perhaps the important part…

Yesterday’s mail brought this horoscope--again with the date cut off:

Leo (July 23-Aug 22). You’ll get the wonderful feeling that you’re in the right place and right on time, too.

As I read that horoscope, it dawned on me that there was no “By accident” about it. Mom knows exactly what she's doing when she cuts off the dates. I called to confirm. Her response: 

Keep the good ones and throw away the bad. After all, who needs bad advice!

I’m thinking she’s onto something. After all, who says, just because history or horoscopes are written one way, we can’t rewrite it?

How about you? Ready to choose your own horoscope? 

And that’s the way it is…or can be!

Pick A Winner Playlist:


Wanna keep in touch? Click on SUBSCRIBE  to receive email notification when entries are posted on Kelly's Fishbowl.

Thanksgiving Playlist

So easy picking my playlist—song, actually—for this Thanksgiving. I’m counting my blessings ala Bing and Rosemary as I prepare our Thanksgiving Feast.

As I dice and slice and whip and bake, I am keenly aware of how blessed me and mine are to have all we have and live as we live.

That first Thanksgiving, a 3-day long feast which included fowl, 4 deer, shellfish, cranberries, maybe, but no mashed potatoes and definitely no pie as potatoes hadn’t been introduced to the New World yet, as the Pilgrims lacked butter and flour for crust, was a celebration of a successful 1621 harvest. It did not mean the end of hard times for the Pilgrims. Even as they feasted, I’m sure the Pilgrims were keenly aware, as am I, that one certainly of our uncertain futures is that there will be difficult times ahead. Knowing this makes me even more grateful to be able to celebrate our harvest today.

Happy Thanksgiving! And thank you.

Wanna keep in touch? Click on SUBSCRIBE  to receive email notification when entries are posted on Kelly's Fishbowl.

When Stars and/or Trains Align . . . or not

My baby takes the morning train. Don't know about yours, but this baby just missed her train--by 7 minutes.

So I'm sitting in the railway station, sipping a latte, waiting for the next train--which will depart in 145 minutes. I reached the station at 5:45, the train departed at 5:33. 12 measly minutes.

Google "Rail-Car" this pops up

Google "Rail-Car" this pops up

I'm formulating the story problems in my head:

Or Color Your Own Train...

Or Color Your Own Train...

If my flight landed at 4:30, and it took me forever to get through the viper of an immigration line, and even longer in the customs line only to arrive at the Airtrain Station just as one was pulling out, what should I have done in order to shave 12 or 15 minutes off my time?

  • Jumped the queue?
  • Sprinted up the escalator?
  • Not used the washroom?
  • None of the Above
  • All of the Above

There's a food court of sorts at Jamaica Station. It consists of 3 shops--one being the "Air Bar" (Opens at 11)--and a section with tables and chairs. I have jingle in my pockets, my IPad in my bag and the timer set on my phone. I'm one of the lucky ones. All around me, people surrounded by bags sleep with their heads on the "Customer Only" tables. Judging by the look of them--mouths open, slumped, if they were customers, it was hours ago. I wonder which train they're waiting for...or if they know? Or care? Or are?

While I sip my latte, I'm thinking of the hours this delay is costing me. If only I'd checked the train times sooner—last night in the departure lounge. If only I'd know the train left at 5:33...

Would knowing have made a difference?

Most definitely!

Would I have been able to catch that earlier train?                   Who knows . . .

 I do know is what I would have been doing if I had known the train’s departure time: 

Instead of stretching my legs, clicking through messages, and wondering about all the other people waiting with me in those lines, my insides would have been buzzing like a hot switchboard, I would have been feeling like the lady a few bends of the queue back who bellowed out, "Hey Number 15! 17! 22! Get to Work! You are on the clock! Stopping chatting and take care of business!”

In my case, ignorance was bliss and no busted brain vessels.

Noooo this is not my latte. Mine was in a paper cup. Good news, click the pic and it will take you to a site with more cool latte art and a How-To U-Tube. 

Noooo this is not my latte. Mine was in a paper cup. Good news, click the pic and it will take you to a site with more cool latte art and a How-To U-Tube. 

In the meantime I'll sip my latte, and be grateful the NY Deli only had everything bagels--with rye seeds--so I am not tempted to order one (with extra cream cheese) and do another story question:

If I were two people and one of me had managed to leap immigration & customs lines, my suitcase had rolled down the baggage carousel sooner than later, I hadn’t stopped to use the washroom, I had caught that earlier Airtrain in time to make the 5:33 train, that one would be seated at my computer sipping coffee and clicking on my computer, what would the other of me be doing?

The other of me that didn’t catch the 5:33 morning is sitting in the station, sipping a latte and clicking on my IPAD while waiting for the 8:03 train to Ronkonkoma. Coffee vs. Latte, Computer vs. IPAD, Coffee-Latte, Computer-IPAD...

When Stars and/or Trains Align Playlist:

Wanna keep in touch? Click on SUBSCRIBE  to receive email notification when entries are posted on Kelly's Fishbowl.

That Three Letter Loophole

“I try to…really I do… But…It’s just that…”

Almost every time I hear that word “try” (except when I use it, of course), the same memory springs to mind. I can’t recall where I was or when it happened:

"Try to lift it."

"Try to lift it."

A man, perhaps a teacher or dinner companion, placed his hand on top if mine and said, “Try to lift your hand.”
I lifted my hand.
Shaking his head, disapprovingly, the man pressed my hand back down onto the table. “I said, ‘try to lift it.’”
Puzzled, I lifted my hand again.
He pushed it down again.  “I didn’t say ‘lift your hand,’” he said. “I said ‘try to lift it.’”

Try. The three letter loophole.

Yes, this includes Mount Everest

I tried to climb Mount Everest once—well, up to the Base Camp anyway. The plans were set. We had our gear. We had been training. But, at the last minute, our VISA requests were denied. It was a good try, and at least I tried. Spit in one hand, try with another, what do you get? One either climbs the highest peak in the world, or one doesn’t. One might start climbing and not reach the top. But that is not trying, that is climbing—doing. And yes, it is semantics. Some might say I’m “splitting hairs” even. That three letter loophole.

I do things. Lots of things. Most importantly, for purposes of this essay, when I say I’ll do a thing, I do it.  For example, I said I would brush my teeth twice daily; floss; pay bills; babysit my grandson; eat leafy greens, and I do (except on rare occasion).

I try to do things, too: Return extra pounds to whomever owns them; exercise daily; stop using the word “cute”; call my mother . . . Try-schmy. Nobody ever does anything they “try” to do.  

We do what we do. (Sally Bowles singing Mein Herr popped into my head as I typed that. I tried to resist, but…)

Where is this leading? To a confession:  Since the beginning of the year I have been trying to finish several manuscripts. I’ve tried, really I have. And although I do spend several hours per day writing and/or on writing-related activities, despite all my trying, I have yet to succeed.  After 10 frustrating months I have finally come to a decision: I am going to stop trying!

As of today, I am doing. One hour each day I am going to write. No excuses. No hall passes.

Mom’s Three Day Rule:

If Mom’s three day rule worked to help her quit smoking, surely it will work to help me get back to creative writing.

My mother always says it takes three days to make or break a habit. “Three days to make & three days to do & three days to set” she says (which is actually nine days, but somehow breaking it into 3 parts makes it easier.) If Mom’s three day rule worked to help her quit smoking, surely it will work to help me get back to creative writing.

And if, like me, there’s something you’re ready to stop trying, and start doing--and yes, I am talking to YOU! Writers who might be gearing up for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). And YOU, too! Everyone else who wants to stop trying. Why not join me? Let’s do it! 

To Do List:

First Gather Tools. We’re on a Hero’s Journey and heroes needs tools!

  1. Calendar: Hang it in a prominent place.
  2. Happy Jar: Choose a happy jar/vase/pail to serve as your “Reward Jar.” Keep it on the smallish side so the vast emptiness of the vessel won’t be discouraging.  (You can always upsize.)Decorate it, if desired.
  3. Reward Token: Decide on a reward token of choice. It might be money, chocolate, toffee, jewels, lotto tickets, marbles, shells (or a combo of several).
See my Happy Jar? It's smallish,  the 30 days of Doing size. I can upsize!

See my Happy Jar? It's smallish,  the 30 days of Doing size. I can upsize!

The Plan:

  • Set: “To Do” Goal.
  • Commit: I will Do It each day. (Fill in the Do IT with your Do)
  • Track Progress: None of this X stuff; mark progress with a smiley face (mine’s red) on the calendar each day you DO IT!
  • Reward! (No hard work should go unrewarded): Each day of Doing It earns one token
  • Accountability counts! Miss a day/Lose a token. Take one out of your Happy Jar (No, you may not eat it!) Most importantly, tell yourself: Tomorrow, I’m back! I will Do It!

Do It for 3 days, then 3 days more, and three days after that, just think what we will have accomplished!

Three Letter Loophole Playlist:

Wanna keep in touch? Click on SUBSCRIBE  to receive email notification when entries are posted on Kelly's Fishbowl.


Jumpstart's Read for the Record© Day 2015 is over, but does that mean we stop reading? NO WAY! Not me & NOT NORMAN!

Norman the Goldfish loves story time! And he definitely has his favorite books. How do I know? 

Definitely NOT Norman!

Definitely NOT Norman!

When Norman likes a book he becomes so engrossed in the story, he shoves his stubby orange goldfish snout right up against the side of his fishbowl. Norman doesn’t budge, doesn’t even glug until the very last page—unless there’s a funny part, that is. (Norman blows bubbles during funny parts.)

But, you think he’ll stick around for a story he doesn’t like? Not Norman. If Norman doesn’t like a story, he spits sand, or goes behind his plant and hides until it’s finished.

Over the years, Norman and I have read scads of picture books. As our way of thanking  Jumpstart and everyone who Read for the Record© 10-22-2015, (and to make sure you have plenty of books to read until next year's campaign begins), we've compiled a list of Norman’s favorites. Surprise! Surprise! They all feature fish… go figure?

(BTW: Just because a book is about fish, or has the word “Goldfish” in the title, doesn’t mean it’s on the list. These are Norman Approved!)

Norman the Goldfish's List of Fish-Tastic Picture Books: 

  1. Louis the Fish by Arthur Yorinks, illus. by Richard Egielski (Like Mr. Limpet!)
  2. A Fish Out of Water by Helen Palmer, illus. by P.D. Eastman (Mrs. & Dr. Suess)
  3. One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish by Dr. Seuss(I Can Read It All by Myself)
  4. The Goldfish in the Chandelier by Casie Kesterson, illus. by Gary Hovland
  5. Memoirs of a Goldfish by Devin Scillian, illus. by Tim Bowers
  6. The Pout-Pout Fish by Deborah Diesen, illus. by  Dan Hanna  
  7. Dear Fish by Chris Gall
  8. Ugly Fish by Kara LaReau, illus. by Scott Magoon
  9. Goldfish and Chrysanthemums by Andrea Cheng, illus. by Michelle Chang
  10. Swimmy by Leo Lionni
  11. The Rainbow Fish by Marcus Pfister
  12. Hooray for Fish by Lucy Cousins
  13. Sophie’s Fish by A.E. Cannon, illus. by Lee White
  14. 10 Friendly Fish by Debbie Tarbet
  15. The Birthday Fish by Dan Yaccarino
  16. Orangey the Goldfish by Eddie Bee, Illus. by Teri Lee
  17. My Goldfish by Stephanie Barroux
  18. The Day I Swapped My Dad for Two Goldfish by Neil Gaiman, illus. by Dave McKean
  19. The Unhappy Goldfish by Paul Dallimore
  20. Gilbert Goldfish Wants a Pet by Kelly DiPucchio, illus. by Bob Shea
  21. Nugget and Fang by Tammi Sauer, illus. by Michael Slack
  22. What About My Goldfish? by Pamela D. Greenwood, illus. by Jennifer Plecas (Early Chapter Book)
  23. Young Cam Jansen and the Goldfish Mystery by David A. Adler, illus. by Susanna Natti (Early Chapter Book)
  24. My Big Fat Zombie Goldfish by Mo O'Hara, illus. by Marek Jagucki (Series for 7-10 year olds)               
  25. The Two-Thousand-Pound Goldfish by Betsy Byars (Chapter Book)
  26. Pepperidge Farm Goldfish Fun Book by Barbara Barbieri McGrath, illus. by Rob Bolster & Frank Mazzola (Goldfish crackers, not Norman!!!)

Norman says “Goldfish keepers needs How-To-Care for Goldfish Guides.” Here are 2 we like:


  • Goldie’s Guide to Caring for Your Goldfish by Anita Ganeri & Rick Peterson
  • 101 Facts About Goldfish by Julia Barnes  


Can't stop the reading! 

Next week, after a thorough scrubbing and a few laps around the bowl, it'll be back to life as usual & back with my usual posts (which focus on whatever might be swirling around). If you'd like to stay in touch, please click on SUBSCRIBE  to receive e-mail notification when entries are posted on Kelly's Fishbowl.