You know...I tend to have the same issue with posting timely blogs as I do making plans. Cumbersome. I do however drunk scribble down stuff that I want to be sure I get in them. The interpretation process is a bit of a challenge some days (ie. today)
Well the freckly tomboy version of me came out to go fishing for the 4th. Well actually she came out the night before when I learned to rig baits. This is really similar to cleaning crabs on a smell scale but over all involves less guts but more fish poop. We used Ballyhoo...first you crack their little backs like you are a fish chiropractor...this makes them swim floppy and not like a dead rigormortis has done set in fish. Then you hold the pin up to the fish lips and see where you need the hook to come out of the belly. You stick the hook in under the left gill and work it down til it pops out where your mark is, then you tuck the weight up in the gil...poke the pin up through his mouth out the top and rubberband his little ass on. Then you salt them down with some kind of bionic fishy stuff ...the label says its a really bad idea to eat it (this was pointed out to me when I suggested Mr Man taste it....I'm an idiot). The main objective is to get the hook in straight so the little fish swims right and fools the big fish into thinking that it is just out for a stroll and not flip around and spin circles like he's on crack. Somewhere in this learning experience I figured out that all little ballyhoo die needing to take a big ole crap and most of them did it on me.
So what better thing to do when you have to get up at the ass crack of dawn to go off shore fishing... Stay up til like 1 something and get drunk. Nice move. We got on the water about 6:30 and it didn't take long to figure out it was either going to be a really rough or really short day. We were planning on going out about 50 miles but couldn't make any time with the rough water. There was talk of going back to bed. This is tragic to even think when you still smell like bait and fish poop from the night before. I pouted enough to be convincing and we headed in the other direction so that we weren't dead into the waves and found a spot to put lines in. None of my baits were crack fish! I was so excited. I know this comes as a major surprise to anyone who knows me but I take instruction very well and caught on pretty good at how to work the back of the boat. The wind finally let up and the seas laid down to almost flat so we packed up and headed out to about 35 miles.
We didn't get much along the line of fish but the day couldn't have been more perfect. It was just me and Mr Man. 35 miles seperated me from the stupidity of life and society and acceptance and obligations. Where else can you be and not have another living soul within miles and miles of you...Nothing but water and dreams. On a normal day we talk non stop to each other, some where along the way that day we realized that we had barely spoken. All I can figure is that its the only place where both of our minds are free enough to not need words. 35 miles or a million it wouldn't have mattered.
The wind picked back up and we called it a day. To say the ride back in was interesting is a bit of an understatement. There never was fear but an incredible sense of wow at the massive effortless power of water.
Mr Man's day after comment - "Its good to be a couple sometimes and just best friends others....yesterday on the boat we were best buddies"
And thats awesome.
I will never take life and love for granted.
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