Penny the Impervious Snail

So we’ve been having trouble with algae growing in our fish tank lately. It’s never been a problem before (not with all the other fish I’ve managed to murder), but now it’s invading the home of Pyro, our Betta that loves to hang out in the volcano tank ornament when you turn the bubbles off. And I mean it’s gotten to be a big problem.

I had tried cleaning out the tank and even doing a complete water change, but nothing was working. Not knowing what else to do, I went down to the pet store (where they practically know me by name and the fish cower in complete fear at the sound of my voice), and asked if I should just get some drops or an algae eater or what. The fish guy agreed that I needed something, but was worried that an algae eater might not survive Pyro’s natural fighting instincts. So he offered me an interesting alternative: a bright yellow snail.

Little Man was with me that day, and as a consequence – I mean result – he got to name said snail. He named her Penny, apparently in homage to the movie Bolt (I tried to explain that “Bolt” would have been a lot funnier and a heck of a lot higher on the irony scale, but he wasn’t buying it. Penny it was).

So Penny was looking great in the bag on the way home. He/She/It (does anyone know if water snails are hermaphrodites?) was out in full display, checking out the strange confines of her temporary little shuttle. But once in the tank, things changed.

It took about 2 minutes in that tank for Penny to realize that she was not alone. It took about 5 minutes for Pyro to realize that he could play soccer with his new roommate. So in the shell we went, and we didn’t come out again. Like ever.

I figured my magical charm must work on invertebrates too, as Penny appeared quite dead on the bottom of the tank for about 3 days (why did I leave it there for 3 days you ask? Well, have you ever tried to determine whether or not a snail is actually alive? Much easier said than done…). I prepared the boys, and got out a Ziploc bag to take her sad little carcass back to the pet store (they actually give you your money back if they die within 14 days…I think they’re considering revising that policy because of me). But when I went to pick her up, she had ever-so-slightly moved in her shell. Could she be alive?

The answer (we determined many long, painstaking minutes later), was a definite yes. She was alive. For now, anyway. But the cracks in her shell told me it wouldn’t be long before Pele scored one too many goals and she would be gone for sure.

So we went back to enjoying our soccer-playing Betta, and anxiously awaiting the debut of Penny’s real, whole body and her well purchased algae eating skills. But it wasn’t to be. She found some refuge under a fake plant and took root for a while. I wound up having to feed her by dropping food right by her shell so she didn’t have to move to get it (remember, I didn’t want to have to feed her – I wanted her to have to find the algae in the tank!).

There she sat, getting stiller and stiller, while all around her the water got greener and greener. Back to the pet store we go.

This time, I skipped the fish guy. I went straight for the drops. Yes, I read the back of all the bottles, and yes I saw that 5 out of the 6 said “Do not use in tanks with freshwater invertebrates such as snails”. But I found that the 6th one actually said “freshwater crustaceans”, and only mentioned crabs and lobsters. A matter of semantics, perhaps, but well worth the risk at this point.

I got home and ceremoniously said good-bye to Penny, just in case the drops were indeed poisonous to her (I knew they would be, but this was now all about saving Pyro’s life). Then I proceeded to accidentally overdose the tank. Now they both were in danger.

A few minutes later I came back to find Penny rolled over on the back of her shell with her body slightly bulging out of her little trap door. Well, this was it. I finally knew how to determine if a snail was dead. If ever a snail was dead, this one was. Sorry Penny.

I couldn’t take her out right then, though, because we were leaving to go somewhere. So in the tank her bloated little corpse lay.

And then we came home.

You know in all those super hero comic books how the super heroes start out as these average, boring guys and then they get doused with radio-active acid or something and suddenly become indestructible and incredibly buff? Well, apparently algae drops really are like toxic waste to snails. Because Buddy let me tell you, Penny was all over that tank when we got home, and she hasn’t stopped since!

For once in her tiny little existence in our home she’s actually hanging out on the tank wall.

For once she’s literally starting to come out of her shell.

For once she’s standing up to her Pele-wanna-be roommate and she isn’t backing down.

She is Penny, the Impervious Snail. And she is real, living proof that the saying “What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger” must be true. She’s beat the bully, she’s survived the cracks, and now she’s amped up on algae steroids and is ready to conquer the aquarium.

Too bad that aquarium is still under my care… Hmmm…

Yep, she’s definitely going to need another dose of that algae stuff if she’s gonna have a prayer of making it. Don’t worry, I’m on it.

Giants

Giants y’all. I’m talking big ones. There’s three of them lurking around my life right now. Make no mistake – one’s been here for a while. In fact, I’m kind of getting used to him. I don’t like that he’s here, but he’s not really my giant to get rid of. In that sense I guess it’s kind of an arranged thing, and we’ve learned to tolerate each other for now. I’ve thought about naming him, but my mom always said that when you name stray animals you wind up wanting to keep them. Trust me, I don’t want to keep this one. So No Name it is.

The second giant to arrive got here about a week or so ago. He’s all mine this time, but he’s not the kind of giant that poses an obstacle. No, this guy is just here to torment me, and to make me think that the task that lies ahead is more daunting and impossible than it really is with Christ on my side. This giant is just a bully, and I’m trying my best to find the nerve to simply tell him to get out of my way. I’m allowed to do that, you know – he is my bully giant. He’s just really tall…and really mean…so it might take a while.

The third giant, well, he’s my least favorite kind. He’s the kind that stands right in the middle of the pathway to your dreams and says, “Thou shall not pass” in his booming giant voice. This giant just got here Saturday.

I tell you, there is nothing quite as disappointing as thinking you are virtually moments away from achieving a dream, only to find that the road is closed by an unmovable force with big, ugly feet. It makes you want to quit. It makes you want to turn around and give up, using what little energy you have left to cry and mope and feel sorry for yourself. I mean, this one is there because someone else hired him to be there. He’s not moving, no matter how much I beg. He’s my problem, but he’s definitely their giant, and he’s not taking orders from anyone else. Continuing on seems impossible, or at least highly improbable at best.

But continuing on is exactly what my husband says I should do, so I guess I’m gonna do it.

At first when he said it I was a little angry. I spent a lot of effort and time trying to get him to understand just how tall this giant is, but he wasn’t hearing it. And then, in a moment of sarcasm (I have a lot of those, by the way), I said something that actually gave me hope.

Maybe – just maybe – that giant isn’t really standing in my way. Maybe he’s there to put me on his shoulders so I can reach higher than I ever thought possible.

You see, he may not be my giant to boss around, and he may be really, really tall and impervious to persuasion, but he is nowhere close to being bigger than God. And if God wants me to achieve this dream of mine, He’ll make it happen – even if He has to use a giant to get it done.

So, I’m choosing to do everything I still can on this side of the giant to reach my goal. Then, when I can go no further on my own, I’ll butter him up and ask him for a huge favor. Who knows? He might even grant me one. But even if he doesn’t, I’ll know that it wasn’t him who ultimately held me back (for what’s a giant compared to God?). If that’s the case, I’ll know that my Father has a perfect plan for my future – one full of hope and life – that involves another dream I should be pursuing. Maybe, in that sense, He will have used this giant as a bit of a directional sign to reroute my path.

In the end, it doesn’t really matter what happens in this situation. What matters is that my path ultimately brings glory to the name of God, no matter where it leads. For His renown is the whole point of this life of mine, and He owns the entire journey to that end – giants and all.

On that note, if you’ll excuse me I think I’ll go set up camp at the feet of that giant and get to work finishing what I started. Oh, and then I guess I’ll take a break and go arm wrestle that bully for a while…

Embracing Life

I’ve been embraced. Or at least that’s what my orthodontist calls it. Sounds all warm and fuzzy, doesn’t it? Well, I can tell you all this metal in my mouth is neither warm nor fuzzy, but it’s not horrible either.

It all started a year ago with Little Man’s head and mine having a bit of a disagreement over who should control a particular segment of airspace (he won, by the way – you can read about it here). And now, almost one year to the day later, I’ve been transformed overnight from a young-looking 31 year old, to the mom who gets strange looks at the mall because people are trying to do the math in their head (“Well, she looks 14, but that kid has to be at least 6… Oh dear, Martha! Is that even possible?”). Joy of all joys.

The hope is that the braces will realign my teeth so that they will fit together again (they haven’t fit together right since the “incident”), and then my jaw can finally heal. The only kicker is that they had to put in these things on the back of my front two top teeth called “bite turbos” that, while sounding really cool, are incredibly annoying. They stop me from biting down and snapping off my bottom brackets, but it also means that my back teeth don’t touch. At all. Which means I can’t chew. At all. It’s only been a couple of days, but seriously, how many smoothies, milk shakes and Slim Fasts can a girl handle? Good diet plan, though – I’ve already lost a pound and a half.

The turbos also serve another purpose – I think they are intentionally shaped the way they are because some dental engineer needed revenge on all the kids who made fun of his smooshy, spit-filled lisp growing up. I can’t even come close to saying the letter s right. And yes, that was me standing in front of the mirror Tuesday afternoon saying “slippery snakes” over and over again. It didn’t change anything, in case you were wondering…

But this is how I know God has an incredible sense of humor. Not only do I get to watch all those funny expressions on the faces of confused moms in public, but I just got invited to prayerfully consider accepting my biggest speaking assignment ever. Coincidence? I think not. It’s been months since I’ve spoken to adults, and now I get invited to co-lead a women’s conference this fall. You know, now that I can’t say anything with an s in it? Very funny, Lord. Hilarious even. Just remember, Your name has two s’s in it, so…

So anyway, just wanted to give you a little update on this crazy little world that is mine. It’s never boring, that’s for sure! I’m off now to find something I can eat without chewing….something other than a Slim Fast. Wish me luck!