Gandalf ate something!
Thirty seconds ago, Gandalf managed to eat a food pellet. . . his first this week.
(Jesus roasting breakfast by the lakeside, anyone?)
Pretty sure this makes Gandalf the most Messianic fish ever.
I also now think he will actually recover. Which is great, because he’s an unusually good-natured fish. And yes, I know that’s an odd thing to say. It’s still true.
Thus far, the new fish plant is not dead. It’s possible my water is no longer poisonous to life.
The “Farting my ABCs” publisher has not responded. It’s like I’m psychic. Here are some translations of publisher speak (for educational reasons):
Publisher talk: “I’ll get right back to you on that.”
Translation: “Call me again in three months.”
Publisher talk: “We’re very excited about your manuscript.”
Translation: “Since you ruined our expectations by using correct spelling, we will punish you by waiting another six months to reject you.”
Publisher talk: “I know this must be difficult for you.”
Translation: “Get used to it.”
This is a picture of “Stormhunter” which has been at a publisher (a different one; they all mean so well and all fail so badly) for eleven months and seventeen days.
C’mon, make a new record! You’re so close! (The current record is eleven months and twenty-nine days, at the “Farting my ABCs” possible-publisher, but it was divided into two visits whereas “Stormhunter” was sent in full from the beginning.)
Felicity Banks 
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