Mangoes.

Look.
Look at that thing.
Up there.
Do you see what it is? Huh? Do you?
IT'S A MANGO. OH. MY. GOSH.

So, how exactly did I begin thinking about mangoes? Well. Today in band class, I was giddily playing my oboe in this one piece called Redwood Something-Something March, when I had a random flashback to this book I had finished the day before.
The book was called "A Mango-Shaped Space", and in it, the main character Mia has a cat called Mango. I kept thinking about Mango, and I was replaying the word so constantly in my head that it started to sound very weird and slightly exotic, as words often do when you repeat them so many times.
Then, as I was thinking all about the word mango, I somehow made a sudden and extremely shocking realization:

I need to eat a mango. Right now.

Unfortunately for me, I remembered that I was in band, not the Tropical Fruit Store, and the nearest mango was probably at least a mile away, if not several miles. That devastating fact alone hit me right in the stomach (which was growling) as if a giant mango had just hurled itself at me and then sped away before I could catch it and eat it. It was a terrible, horrible experience, waiting for band to end.
The rest of the day was entirely composed of my sadness and longing for the bittersweet taste of mangoes on my tongue. It suddenly seemed like everything around me could have been a mango. It was like:

 

 

 

 

 

I went all through Yoga visualizing yummy mangoes melting on my tongue as I flopped clumsily into "downward-facing-dog". Although I did get a very delicious banana on the car ride home, I spent the entire time wishing it was a mango.

When I got home, I was further devastated to find that there were no mangoes in the fridge! None!! Can you believe it???

As I scanned the fridge, all of the other foods that were not mangoes were staring at me like, "Pick me! I'm so yummy! :D :D"

And I was like, "None of you are as yummy as mangoes."

But then, JUST WHEN I THOUGHT THAT I WOULD NEVER EAT A MANGO AGAIN...

 

I noticed something magical in the verrrry back of the fridge--the back that is so far back that yogurt freezes when you house it there, and then you go to eat it and it is like a giant milky sherbert lump.

 

The thing that I found was this:

And then I was like:

And then the juice was like:

And then I was just like:

 

I let the mango juice gush down my throat, as the mangoey deliciousness made my taste buds stand up like hair does after you lean on something static-electricity-y.

It wasn't a mango, but it was surely, surely, close enough.

All to soon, my cup went from this:

To this:

 It was EMPTY.

There was NO MORE MANGOEY GOODNESS LEFT.

I stared at the cup like, "WHYYYY?? WHY COULND'T YOU HAVE HAD MORE JUICE???"

 

But then I realized there was an innovative solution to this temporary disappointment. All I had to do was refill the glass, and then there would be MORE MANGO JUICE!

It was like:

 

Can you believe it?

My fish

For the past couple months, I have owned a female betta fish who I call Genny. Her proper name is Genre--yes, "Genre" directly derived from the word that means which category of literature a book falls into.
How did she get this name, exactly?
Well.
At one point, when my sister and I were conversing about what her name should be, she (my sister) was like, "Genre!!! Doesn't that sound like the best fish name in the history of the universe?"
And it stuck.
I really don't know WHY we found it funny, but since both of our brains coincidentally decided to take a very long nap on the same day, it became her official name.

(That quote, the one up there that is like, "Genre!!! Doesn't that sound like the best fish name in the history of the universe?" is probably not 100% accurate, just FYI.)

Eventually, the conversation went overboard and we started wondering if we should name her Nonfiction, but I said NYUUUU!

You may think the life of a fish is really dull, but as far as I'm concerned, this is the most accurate summary of Genre's:

(This looks weirdly a lot like that 'Doge' meme thing... if you know what I mean... eehhehheh...)
I am almost positive that she goes on like that in a joyful loop 24 hours a day--that is, until she spots the little yellow container which contains her fish food. Then she is like:

 

And then, she totally starts to explode, as if not doing so will result in her not getting her precious food. If she could escape her tank's flimsy glass barrier and somehow scoot safely through the bedroom air, she would probably pound on my face until I opened the bottle, and then dive in to devour all its content.

But she can't.

So she explodes.

Like so:

My computer won't let me enlarge pictures anymore!!! Grr. D:<

Click to enlarge.

Once I actually drop the piece of food in, though, she has serious and somewhat troubling difficulty finding it.

(Notice the how disturbingly close the food is to her snout in the picture? I assure you, that was 100% intended.)

She looks at me with her innocent little donut-shaped fishy eyes, like, "Howww could you do this to me? D: D: D:"

So I often have to push the piece of fish food just so it is barely half a centimeter away from her eyeballs. And that is difficult to do while she is flailing around as shown in the first picture.

But once she actually realizes that she can truly reach the food, once and for all, she is really enthusiastic about eating it. She eats with flair, let me say. She thinks she's a crocodile. She snaps at her precious little orb with all the energy that a fish can possibly snap at her precious little orb with.

 

 

 

It's difficult to capture the true intensity of her forceful bite with my inadequate drawing skills and lack of a video, which would better show how she stalks her prey than a bunch of scrappy drawings of revolting orange finned things that may or may not be fish.

It took several tries to draw them, although it is seriously not worth it because nobody in the world actually reads this blog. : /

But she attacks her food.

Seriously.

She draws her self back, slowly and surely, then launches herself through the water, making a beeline for her piece of food. Then--and I'm not sure how she does this, since she doesn't have teeth--she rips off one half of the food, then swallows.

She then resumes doing this until she has swallowed the second piece of her food.

 And then, she is just like:

 

 

Hai?

Hellew.
Welcome to this blog.
This blog is not much now, but it will soon morph into a huge collection of random loot. Random loot, like:

• Screenshots I feel that I MUST share with the world or else bad things will happen,
• the latest news about whether that four-day-old-snow is ever going to melt or not (it's made some progress, but there's still enough to go sledding. I actually went sledding, but my sled, which was a green plastic disc, kept smashing into the tree.)
• and drawings of my fish. Woot.
• (Oh, by the way, 'fish' is singular, not plural. Currently, I only have eensy smeensy ittle fish who is the size of a nail, (not a fingernail, a metal nail) but she's spoiled, so she gets this towering aquarium the size of my old computer all to herself and her precious plants. People look in there, and they think to themselves, "There's only ONE fish in there? Wow, you peeps must be crazy fish-spoiling weirdos." Which we are, so I guess that's an accurate description.)

I actually first started this blog as ireallyreallylikefish.blogspot.com, but as I was fiddling with the layout the following thought ran through my mind: "Hmm. I dunno if I really want to turn a blog about my own life into a giant aquarium. And, do I really like fish that much?" So, evidently, I changed my blog address to my current domain: fluffywillowtree.blogspot.com, which I agree really isn't that much better than the whole I-really-really-like-fish thing in the first place. So, what the heck IS a 'fluffy willow tree'? I have no idea!

I was just like, "Fluffy birch tree? No. Fluffy oak tree? Meh. Neither of those are even fluffy. Waiiit... FLUFFY WILLOW TREEEE!!!!!!!"
I tried drawing one (a fluffy willow tree), and it turned out like this:

Oh, hello there. Nice to make your acquaintance. I'm a tree.
Feel free to look at my lovely black bird as I stalk
you forever with my massive googly eyes.

Obviously, my drawing skills are poor. But really, if anyone actually thinks they know how to draw a good fluffy willow tree, I would really like to see that. But don't just come running to me with a drawing of a normal willow tree, ranting that willow trees are fluffy already. Which I guess they are. So, that kind of answers my question about what a fluffy willow tree is. It's just a WILLOW TREE!

Oh, and my friend who's screen name is Destiny (read: screen name, not real name! I don't think there is actually anyone in the world named Destiny Borogove. What is a Borogove? I dunno. Maybe you should go to Destiny's blog and ask her.) has a blog.

Click here and go to it now or else the world will burst into flames , which I'm sure will highly upset your cat. And you don't want to upset Kittywee, do we now? Gosh, I'm such a weirdo.

Btw, I actually don't know whether or not you have a cat.
And 'Flower S' is also my screen name, not real name. If you are one of the people who ended up here because you know me in real life, then (hopefully) you had no problem figuring that out.
Anyways, for now, goodbye!