“There is a fine line between fishing and just standing on the shore like an idiot.”
This past Saturday, Natasha, Red and I were idiot fishing.
Sometimes we were just standing on the shore, other times the chair held us down.
Sometimes we engaged in fishing, other times we (I) didn’t understand the concept of catch and release. (Not to worry, the slippery little devil eventually found his way back to water and safety.)
About two hours north of home, we stood, sat, waded and ate our way through a beautiful afternoon of blue skies, clouds and a temperature around 76 F (24 C). It was an opportunity for Red to decompress after a week of 12-hour work days and an opportunity for Natasha and me to relax and do as little as possible (other than bend arms to cast out a line, bring food and beverage to the mouth, and handle slimy Canadian worms). Saturdays are usually reserved for running to the farmer’s market, shopping, visiting mom, and various other sundry activities. It felt good to simply hang out with the girlfriends and not be concerned about much of anything.
Standing on the shore with a fishing pole doesn’t necessarily equate to idiocy, unless one is trying to hook a squirrel or a small tree.
I’m glad it wasn’t me. Out of the three of us, I’m the least coordinated with fishing (or maybe the least coordinated), even though I’ve been throwing out a line since a child. I have had my share of not-so-great and laughable fishing adventures and did not want to be the one hooked to a tree or a person. Not again. In this case, no harm was done to the tree or the bobber and everyone had a good laugh.
I chose instead to be a semi-total idiot and wade into the water with my jeans pulled up to the knees. The water was crystal clear and seemed fairly shallow. We talked about wading out so that our cast would go further into this small lake and perhaps attract a bigger fish. Nearer to the shore, we were catching a lot of little shavers that weren’t worth a fish fry or a poke in the eye. So, after filling my face with lunch, I dared to enter the water.
As you can see, the water was deeper than knee high and Red thought nothing of snapping a photo of a friend with her mouth full of hamburger and potato chips. Idiocy. I was smart enough to bring a pair of capris along since the jeans became wet all the way up to the end of my legs, but not smart enough to bring a swimming suit. I was smart enough to chew with my mouth closed, but not smart enough to look away at the sight of a cell phone’s camera.
“If people concentrated on the really important things in life, there’d be a shortage of fishing poles.”
Obviously, Doug is not an idiot. No, he is wise and has his priorities in order. Natasha, Red and I were fishing on Saturday and that is all that mattered. We may have been standing around on the shore doing nothing, at times, or not focused on critical aspects of our lives, but that was not a concern. It did not matter that the big fish were out of our reach or that I got my britches wet or that Natasha caught a small tree.
Sometimes, it’s important to be foolhardy, to have a devil-may-care attitude about the day, as long as no one gets hurt. And no one got hurt this day, unless you count a few dead mosquitoes and a spider that rode home with us in the cooler.
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