"Fishing"

Today is rainy and sure-chilly-for-May in Small Town. I'm sitting here looking at the picture above, and if thoughts could drool I'd have spit rolling down my forehead. Oh, people. Husband and I just got back from spending a couple of days "camping" and "fishing" with some of our oldest and dearest friends and I am still in a blissful state of relaxation in spite of the damp and chill. 

The irony quotes in the previous paragraph are intentional. We were "camping" in the sense that we were surrounded by trees and at the edge of a river, but our digs were a two-bedroom cabin with full kitchen, bathroom, and satellite television for better reception of the Royals game. And we were "fishing" in the sense that our old friends, Nana A and the Trout Guru, are avid fisherpersons. I, myself, have never caught a fish in my life and I happened to mention this fact to to the Trout Guru. 

Well. 

Before I knew it I was on the edge of the trout stream with a daily permit pinned to my hat and a fishing pole in my hand. The Trout Guru had threaded some kind of bait ball onto the tiny hook, and I was ready to go.

"Just bring the rod back, hold down the button, and FLING the line to the middle of the stream," Nana A told me. Back...hold down...FLING!

And that was how I "caught" the end of my shoe. 

While I practiced casting, the Trout Guru and Nana A got busy and caught our lunch. 

Husband pulled out a decent-sized trout, and how cute is that face? 

I continued to practice casting. Back...button down...FLING! Back...button down...FLING! The Trout Guru was beginning to feel sorry for me, as he reeled in keeper after keeper, but I assured him that I was perfectly happy not catching anything, and that I was just enjoying the gorgeous weather and my new-found ability to cast past the end of my toes. Back...button down...FLING!

I was, however, beginning to get a little tired so I decided to sit for a while. Back...button down...FLING! Transferring the rod to my left hand, I dragged the line through the kelp at the edge of the water as I walked up the beach toward my lawn chair.

You fishermen know what's coming next, right? The line got caught in the kelp, or algae, or whatever lives at the edge of otherwise clear trout streams. I was mildly irritated as I jerked the bait free. 

EXCEPT THAT IT DIDN'T COME FREE! IT WIGGLED BACK! 

Yes, friends, my hook wasn't caught on kelp, it was caught IN A FISH! 

Allow me to introduce you to the dumbest fish in Missouri.

Not only did this fish allow itself to be caught by me, it allowed itself to be caught by the left hand of me. And then later, when it was on a stringer waiting to be released back into the stream, it tried to grab my bait as I was back...button down...FLING-ing to see if there was a second equally dumb fish out there somewhere. There was not, but the actual fisherpersons in the group were hauling in more trout than we could eat, so I sat back and enjoyed the scenery. 

I think I like "fishing."