Gone Fishin’

Sometimes you need a break…a real Saturday morning evoking your childhood–complete with a bowl of Lucky Charms, sleeping in, and watching cartoons.

Okay, so I didn’t do any of those things last Saturday, but I did walk over to the neighbor’s dock, where my love was tying a swivel to the line on a second rod and gingerly picking bait out of the bag. We had gone fishin’.

The creek came up high, covering most of the dock, so we stood near the posts closest to the shore, and I tried to remember how to cast. It didn’t go well the first couple of times–but I never hooked anyone or anything, save a tree branch floating like a dead man in the water. A breeze kept blowing our floats back into shore, but just about at the pace of the slow clicking back of the reel.

I’d just about plum forgot everything, which is the point. Then we remembered the Sam Adams that Bob had squirreled away in his fridge in the garage. Surely he wouldn’t mind if we borrowed one…

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