Goldfish are evil. (It is the snack cracker called Goldfish of which I am speaking, not the actual piscine creature.) Once they catch your eye with their cheddary smile, they are irresistible. They demand to be devoured. I defy anyone to avoid an orgy of faux-piscivorousness once these seductive creatures make an appearance. Yes, tonight I was seduced by these delectable spawn of the Satanic Pepperidge Farm. Before I realized what I had done, I had consumed more than half a bag full of the tiny, deceptively innocent baked creatures! Upon reading the nutritional information on the side of the bag, I discovered that the amount I had been manipulated into eating was four servings! Reading further, I found that this fit of gluttony (not my fault!) had provided me with at least 36% of my daily value of fat, and 32% of my daily value of saturated fat, plus 12% of my daily value of cholesterol, 28% of my daily value of sodium, and 24% of my daily value of carbohydrate. Oh, yes, and 12 grams of protein (no daily value given.) I can feel my arteries crackling. Wicked, wicked goldfish!
By the way, did you know that the original surname of movie mogul Samuel Goldwyn was Goldfish? It's true.
In other news (must keep my mind off the remaining crackers in that bag -- oh, the allure of their haunting smiles!) the night has been, once again, unseasonably mild. I am surprised at how quickly it seems that the moon is waning. It has already lost more than a third of its girth, and remains high even as approaching dawn begins to return the blue to the sky. Unless this early spring is thwarted by winter reclaiming its final weeks, by next month my best view of the moon will be obscured for most of the night by the new leaves. Well, at least their cover will provide me with a dark corner in which I may lurk in order to observe whatever passes in the moonlit nights. But I will not have so clear a view of the moon again until autumn has stripped the trees of their foliage, so I must enjoy it while I may.