Scheduled to death

So much running around this week taking The Curmudgeon hither and yon for appointments. I am exhausted and even with nothing scheduled for tomorrow, I have serious doubts anything I need to do around here will be done.

Next week is worse, I have two days where there isn’t something I have to run him to. However, one of those days is a holiday and the other, well, I have an appointment for a much-needed haircut and am accompanying G somewhere immediately afterwards…and yes, we will do lunch too.

I might sneak out early this morning after feeding the dogs and go fishing if the weather is nice enough. Shhhhhh. I need a break.

We should go fishing

     My two favorite Fotosketched pics of DH fishing.

Finding fresh ideas

 

     Fishing season began today without us.  We never go for the first week or so.  There’s too many first timers around.  After a couple of weeks they soon get bored and find other things to do, which leaves the river banks clearer for those of us who enjoy going all the time.

     I look forward to sitting on the riverbank and daydreaming or bird watching while my hook awaits the nibble of a fish.  It gives my brain time to relax and that helps stir up the writing urge.  Since it’s been a long time that we’ve gone fishing, I’m hoping for some fresh ideas.

     I carry a notebook and pen along with me to write down things I see, hear, smell, and even the taste.  There’s nothing like the taste of a picnic lunch along the river.  Another bonus I’ve found is that there’s never a shortage of characters along a riverbank.

Gone fishing

 

     The second week of fishing season there will be a sign on our front door, ‘Gone Fishing’ and at least once a week thereafter through to late fall.  We never go the first week of the season because all the danged amateurs who think they know how to fish are out there crowding the river banks.  It takes most of them about a week to decide that they’d rather do something else.  We didn’t get out at all last year and we both missed it.

     Fishing amateurs are easy to recognize.  They arrive with brand new tackle more suited to lake or deep sea fishing than trout streams.  They spend more time untangling their line than they do wetting it in the river.  An amateur will place him/herself directly across the river from anyone else that is fishing and throw his or her line atop the other person’s line—definitely bad form.

     The amateur will trash the river bank.  We clean up after ourselves and pick up any other trash we find.  Our parks department supplies plenty of trash barrels but the amateur, the slob fisherman, and lazybones visitors to our lovely parks don’t bother to use them.  Most of the fish we catch, we release.

     DH and I always have at least two cheap rods and reel set ups in our vehicles that we will often gift to some child who is interested in fishing but doesn’t have the proper tackle.  

     Two years ago, a couple had their nine year old grandson out near our favorite fishing hole.  Someone at a store (that will remain nameless) sold them a lake pole, a horrible reel, plastic worms, and fish hooks only suitable for deep sea fishing.  None of them knew what they were doing and they were all getting frustrated, so while DH kept them busy, I slipped off to my car and pulled out one of our give-away set ups.  DH and I patiently showed the boy how to tie on a leader, put a proper hook on, and bait it.  We took turns teaching him how to cast his line.  Fifteen minutes later the delighted boy pulled a decent sized trout out of the stream with his new fishing pole.  Hours and many fish later, the grandparents and the boy were ready to leave.  The boy brought the ‘borrowed’ fishing pole over to us—my favorite part is when we tell kids they can keep the rod and reel.  Their faces are priceless.