Fishing

When I was around four or so, I remember going fishing with my dad. I

And by going fishing, I mean I put on a lifejacket (is that one word or two?), my old clothes (okay, the clothes went on before the lifejacket), climbed in a boat or stood on the side of a pond with my daddy, had Daddy bait the hook, and waited patiently to catch a fish (while asking no less than 287 million questions). When we got back home, I'd watch him clean them and engage in my favorite part of the process...

Want to guess what the favorite part was? Eating the fish? No, it was good, but there's something even better! Touching the cold, slimy fish eyes! 

For some unknown-four-year-old-bizarre reason, I LOVED touching fish eyes. 

You really should try it sometime. Of course, there's a difference in being 4 and doing that, and being (cough, cough) 30ish--shut up!-- and doing the same thing. If nothing else, people look at you a little more, um, critically. "Isn't that cute?" becomes "What kinda freaky shit is that?!"

Now, you may wonder why this story popped into my head and why I felt compelled to share. Because I love you? Okay, no, not because I love you...I mean, I DO love you, of course. (Even though most of you are relative strangers. Or would that be strange relatives?) No, the reason I'm sharing this story is because we're taking our boys fishing this weekend. For the first time. Oh, and did I mention that two of my three hate bugs? Yeah, so this should be...interesting. As in, "Holy shit! What the freak were we thinking?!"  I haven't been fishing in...um...well...yeah, a while. My husband hasn't been fishing in...a long time (because we're counting the drunken, deep-sea fishing trip he went on in his 20s as actual fishing).  

But we're making memories here, folks. Making memories--fish eyes, bugs, and all!  Stay tuned for the follow-up post! Here's hoping there are no ouchies, booboos, bug bites or snake sightings!