The Mighty Fisherman

    Apparently cutting down trees isn't manly enough for my husband. Now he's taking to fishing. Well, let me rephrase that... he's TRYING to take to fishing. It has yet to be seen whether or not this will actually be a success (flashbacks to a couple of summers ago when he had the great idea that he was going to be a bow-hunter... and then quit when he proceded to lose all the arrows during practice in the yard (not to mention that he scared off a deer during a little gas-passing-incident)). Although I can say one thing, my guy has been awfully diligent with his new hobby. He gets up at daybreak and loads all of his fishing gear into the truck like a little boy scout, and then he stays down at the creek (excuse me, crick) until he catches something. Today, he even caught a turtle! At least the turtle was bigger than the 6-inch fish he bragged about 2 weekends ago. Apparently all the husbands at the crick have been complaining about the lack of fish this season, although I believe this new activity is just an escape from their wives complaining about how their fish-scented men are grossing up the house. Where once my kitchen was a place of female tranquility, I now have containers of worms in my refridgerator next to the eggs. And don't get me started on the fishing line (complete with hook) that I almost impaled my bare foot with on the front porch yesterday! I guess it could be worse... but if I ever come home to find a fish head on my kitchen counter, someone else will be getting the axe, as well.