I didn’t go fishing mainly because I wasn’t asked. I WAS asked to cook the fish. It wasn’t a big deal to me because I really didn’t want to fish. When the kids were little, the guys went fishing and the girls stayed in camp and gossiped and giggled and watched our kids and had a really good time.
When the kids were grown and gone and another husband and a new boat (refer to past post) all of a sudden I wanted to fish. No not the kind of fishing where you actually put a live squirmy worm on a hook after you pull it apart first. There is absolutely nothing barbaric about that is there?
As long as I went with my guy fishing he was completely content as was I armed with my girlie magazines or anovel.
I remember one day we had pulled into a cove about a mile or two away from our lake home. At this time it really doesn’t make any difference how far away it was to the house, but that day it could have been the difference between life and death. He was having a wonderful time catching great big fish that were not fit to eat. Carp, drum, gar in my opinion were thrown back in the lake but lots of fun to catch because for one thing they are so big.
People that know me well know that when I read a really good book or story I am lost into the moment or hour as it is or was. I can remember to this day, I was gently but with some urgency told to put my book away and get my life jacket on. I did that, but really didn’t like it because it was hot. He backed out into the lake and at that point I saw the clouds. They were black as coal the wind was howling, and we were racing across the lake as fast as we were able. We were “cutting” through the waves for a smoother trip if that was even possible. I just couldn’t understand this horrible storm that was brewing. It was so calm and cool in the cove that was protected by trees and tall lake reeds.
As we were getting closer to the house I started screaming wanting to know if we were going to capsize. He said, “no everything will be alright.” When we got back to the house we were drenched by the torrential rain and huge waves. It took both of us to get the boat into the boat lift and secure it. We raced into the lower level of the house and proceeded to down a rum and coke in two gulps. I then asked if he had been lying about the boat capsizing. He said, “Absolutely.”
Interesting about life’s memories isn’t it, a person just wonders and shakes their head thinking only by God’s mercy and loving care am I here today.
Very scary. We were out in our canoe once when a storm came up. Good thing Chuck was strong and could paddle us back to shore. When I try to help paddle, it does no good -- I make us go the wrong direction, even though Chuck is (trying) to steer us in the right direction. Oh, and there's the time that I was in the front and was told to hop out on the bank of the river and hold the canoe while he jumped out. Uhhh... I pulled up on the front of the canoe and dumped him in the cold river. Oops. Then I couldn't quit laughing...
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