My First Fishing Trip

There were three of us little ones - my brother, my sister, and myself - and we heard about this crazy thing called ‘fishing’.

So one afternoon (after I’m sure much nattering and pestering) my dad took us fishing. He dropped us in rubber boots and handed us each a fishing rod. Excited, we hoped into the Orange Ford and sped off down the gravel road. We drove through a field and stopped at this tiny little creek(actually ‘creek’ is a stretch, it really was more of a low-spot that had gathered some rainwater). Unbeknown to us, there were no fish there.

But dad was beknown…he knew that not a single fish could possibly exist in that puddle. He didn't tell us though, so we spent all day fishing and fishing! Dad taught us to cast and then he seemed the "appropriate-amount" of flustered by the fact that we were doing so well but we weren’t catching anything! When we went home and told mom, she was very surprized too that we didn't catch any fish but thank goodness she had already thought of a back-up plan for supper that night!

But you know, even though we never caught one, boy did we have stories about all the bites and tugs and all the times we 'almost' caught a fish in that creek that afternoon!

But they were stealth, those fish. They got away. To big for us to wrestle down i supposed…even dad couldn’t pull them up…if we had a fighter on the end that was close to pulling us in, we’d give him the rod to reel the monster in - and every time he got the hook unsnagged from the tree root we had it caught in and brought the line up - to our amazement - the hook would be fish-less!

“Maybe if you were quieter you wouldn’t have scared it away,” Dad would say.

Ya Dad...maybe.

happy friday!

Q: What did one math book say to the other?

A: Man I got a lot of problems!

How to Turn that Bocci Game Around!

Did you know they sell dual-purpose coolers nowadays? They look and act like normal coolers – keeping the lagers icy cold. But on top of doing just normal cooler-stuff – they have WHEELS!!!!

This is brilliant! Ingenious really! Cause now when the innocent little Bocce ball game turns ugly – you all know how it happens…same old story, you toss your ball – aiming for the little white one – and you land very close, your excitement barely contained at your sure-win, then your opponent tosses his last ball and you hear a loud SMACK! His ball comes down and knocks yours clean away. Your smile turns upside down and you start to argue, things get heated, people start throwing the balls at each other, someone even hurls their hot-dog-stick. Cutthroat. Lifetime friendships lost, engagements ended, family ties severed.

But now, all that can be salvaged – now when things start to turn ugly, you just empty out the coolers, climb inside and start the new game – COOLER RACES! People will scream with joy, bounce with laughter, and hug even strangers out of sheer delight… And the best part about this new game is finding the beer that got missed at the bottom of the cooler – like the French fry you find at the bottom of the McDonald’s bag – you crack the trophy beer as you plummet awkwardly down the hill encased in your Coleman.

Yes, my friend that is the moment of true euphoria.

happy friday!

Q: Why were all the ink spots crying?

A: Because their father was in the pen!

I'm an 'Avoider'

There are four types of people (according to the test that neatly categorizes everyone into little boxes) under the heading “Confrontation Styles.”

I fall smack in the middle of the “Avoider” box. And I mean middle – I won’t even venture near edge of that box to peek over and see what the Antagonists are doing on a dreary Sunday afternoon. Nope! I stand safely in the middle surrounded by millions of other Avoiders, right beside Waldo where no one can find me. I learned this about myself a few years ago when I attempted to manage people (for which I discovered my skills are as suited as a tutu is for a hippo. BIG thumbs down. The whole ‘if you’re happy - I’m happy! if you’re not – I will be over there’ philosophy doesn’t work that well in a management role. Who knew?)

I bring this up because I was reminded of this personality trait again this week. It was a little over two weeks ago when I secretly became addicted to that Big Brother reality show. It got so bad that I heard myself making excuses to leave social gatherings early. Which was difficult and mildly amusing in itself, you see over the years I have developed a habit of consistently being amongst the last-to-leave folks. A habit which has never allowed me to learn how to exit anywhere gracefully!

So I’d be out and after a few hours I’d see the time, panic, mutter some ill-thought-out-excuse, “hey, I have to go I think I left my blender on”, grab my coat and run out the door like I was escaping from Alcatraz. I’d get home with seconds to spare, settle into my couch and indulge my guilty pleasure of spying on strangers in the Big Brother house.

This Tuesday however, I decided that show is no longer for me. I’m sure that’s not surprising to those of you who know my flea-length attention span, but it wasn’t that I got bored so much as uncomfortable. In the span of one hour (minus commercials) there were tears, drunken slurs, screaming matches, and scandalous name-calling.

Halfway through I turned off the TV, crawled back to the middle of my box and closed the lid.

If you ask me, the world could do with a little less yelling.

happy friday!

Q: What is an algebra?

A: What a mermaid wears under her dress!