Gone Fishin'10:39 AM
The sights are breathtaking around our town. The fishing? Not so much. At least, not for us ladies. I spared you the photo of Christian's triumphant catch and Bethany's tantrum.
We weren't always so unlucky. I hear tell Floppeth caught several blue gill the other day - the day I declined to go. I wasn't always so lethargic.
Once upon a time, Chase and I traveled up almost very summer to our grandparents' house for fishing, boating and pool. (The family joined us later.) At four o'clock each morning, Grandpa would pack some soda and cereal bars in his boat bucket, we'd don our windbreakers and we'd make our way down to the dock. There's a certain quietness about a night that has lain so long unbroken.
And we'd fish. Once, we raced a thunderstorm after it appeared suddenly on our fishing venture. Another time, Chase caught his hook on a power line. And to inject a little sadness into this tale, I got ridiculed once for my inability to catch fish. Eight-year-olds aren't known for their prowess in fishing, it's true, but I stiffly took the insult and fished on my side of the boat. A moment later I caught a fish - to the chagrin of the noble insulter. To add insult to injury, the noble insulter didn't catch a single fish. And I believe I might have caught another one.
Might. It sort of was necessary to exaggerate my fishing skill to not seem like a bookish, insipid Wisconsin kid, so now I hardly know fact from fiction.
Grab your pole, join me on the dock and tell me your tall tales - how big was that bass, anyway?