WHAT I DID FOR LOVE (Conclusion)

For all of you who waited with baited breath to learn the correct number of goldfish, and I know you're out there, it's 1,592.  I promise--not one more, not one less!  After all, counting goldfish is an exact science. And, despite my closing innuendo last week, they came through the Oktoberfest ordeal in much better shape than I'd anticipated.

They did swim away from their original, rather military positions, but they're still in the jar--and the predators kept themselves under fairly decent control.

We witnessed a bit of tilting, back and forthing, and side to siding; and had three fly-fishers with tape measures discussing cubic inches and specific sizes of the various fish.  Most folks, however, in the spirit of the event simply said, "to h@#* with it", wrote a quick number and headed to the brats and beer.

This fellow, who hadn't been to the brats and beer stands yet, turned out to be a "lifter" and looks quite surprised as the lid comes off in his hand.

He recovered quickly, and the jar never hit the ground, but the little buggers  flew in all directions as his embarassed wife began grabbing stray fish left and right.

Others joined in and, despite the fact that fish were swimming frantically to get under the table, all were caught and released unharmed to the jar.  The day (and contest) were saved!  Whew--it was close!

Now they're back home and, day by day, they're taking on more personality.  As you can see in the photo above, they've had a few tussles, but generally they're getting on well.  If you watch them, you begin to notice their facial expressions are unique...some are obviously demented, others are endearing, and some are just stupid but very happy.  A better person than I would say they have something to teach us--I just don't know what.  It doesn't seem right to throw them out, I can't feed dirty goldfish to my grandchildren, and they don't fit with my carefully choreographed decor...it's weighing heavy on me!