update on the office fish tank

Remember how creepy the office fish tank is? I posted about it here.

Well, it has since been a little de-creepified. It actually looks nicer and more professional now, with completed wood finishings and a clean area surrounding it.

However, it is still a source of morbid occurrences during the day.

The owner (or the assistant) always announces when he's about to feed the fish and we all rush out to the tank like it's some sort of show. 'Cause it is. 

He dumps in the "feeder fish," which are usually little shrimps or goldfish, and the other fish all dive in like a regular feeding frenzy!

It's crazy. One fish always goes straight for the goldfish's eyes and gets them sometimes too. The puffer fish likes to gnaw a goldfish in half and gulp down sections at a time. This blind eel sort of squirms about and shoots its head around like a snake trying to catch food.

Some people took to naming the puffer fish after one of the other copywriters. I'm not sure why, but they'll point their fingers and say "Look at Scott - he's so aggressive today!" And people laugh.

And we all stand around, gasping and hooting at the fish like it's a gladiator arena.

Ten or so minutes later, we ho-hum back to our cubicles. La-te-da, back to work.

It wakes you right up if it happens to be after lunch. At least, you hope it happens after, and not right before.

a poem about (sort of) running

You know I will post a poem on my blog ONLY if I feel like it's rather good. As an insecure writer, 90% of my poems are doomed to the obscurity of archived Word doc files that will never see public space on the web.

Anyway, I started writing this poem the other day and it turned into a sort of deep reflection on how running is like exercising faith.

what doesn't kill

so many ways to live,

to walk –

and I choose to run

the ground of this earth,

leaving pieces of me behind –

scraps

of a fighter –

drops of blood,  pools of tears –

making me stronger.

doubt doesn't kill, doesn't

stop the run

through desperate days –

I still search

and listen

and check my pulse

to pounding feet, the sad song

of rain,

my own gasps of air –

and God –

You still there?

not dying,

not dying– not me,

but something else

I pass on the road –

hope –

but I can't rest to hold it yet.

miles stretching, beckoning,

telling me how strong,

promising more strength

I don't want –

I could stop and drown

in rain's cold grip –

or run and risk

a road of scattered parts,

pieces of me

left in a rush.

so many ways to run,

to pound

away swelling grief –

either continue the race

to forget,

or stop and feel

the full storm of

what I run from.

This road doesn't kill –

so I ask what it builds.

no answer, not yet.

where to run,

how fast to go –

even these are not my choice.

not mine.

I follow the road.

At last a snow day!

...and finally the pictures.

Wow, it has really been that long since I've posted pics on the good old bloggy blog! Time's been sort of speeding by in a blaze of driving to and from Provo.

I wanted to post some pictures of our snowshoeing/sledding adventure (a couple weeks ago now) just because it's such a novel occasion for this (until now) snowless year!

Shelly was recently in town (Hi Shell!) so Clint and I and Tyler went with her up to Dog Lake to play in the pretty, sparkly snowflakes. Mm-hm, it was GORGEOUS.

(Shelly - I think I still need to email or facebook the pictures to you!)