We go fishing a lot. I mean a lot. I like it, I am not crazy about eating the things, but man do I love the excitment of the catch. I have always gone fishing, from the time I could hold a pole in my hands, my Mom and Dad took me. I am not squimish about putting worms on my hook, or liver, or cheetos, or what ever is getting bites. I am patient, I can sit and be quiet for an hour if I have a fish playing with my bait. The big fish play with your bait for a long time. That is the reason they are big ole fish. Most people will give it up after 5 minutes or so, not locke, I can out wait 'em. That is the secret you know of catching big fish. But Homer does not believe me. He thinks you need at least 3 poles, and that many different types of bait. One pole has a bobber on the line. One pole has a bell on it. And the other one he puts into the fork of a limb he cuts and sticks in the ground. This is fine as long as he will stay with it, but you see his attention span is about as long as my eyelashes, and he invariably spends most of his time retreiving his lures, which are on the 4th pole, that he is using to troll for bass. hehe
You noticed I said retrieving lures didn't you, not taking fish from a hook, that he has caught with the lures. He has every lure on the Walmart shelf. A fun vacation for him to go to the Bass Pro Shop in Missouri. He has a credit card just to buy lures with. I am not looking forward to the days when we are having to fish to eat, because of the bankruptcy proceedings, that will come from his lure buying obsessions. It was okay for a while, we worked at Pradco for a couple of years. I guess you want to know what Pradco is don't you? It is a lure making plant in Arkansas. We made Rebel, Heddon, Smithwicke, Wigglos etc. until the plant was bought by a conglomerate and they closed all our little plants, and moved to Mexico. ( never buy anything from Pradco, they are evil.) He was in the packout dept., and his fingers got a little sticky some days.( remember the gopher obsession, and don't judge him to harshly, he probably needs medication!!)
Back to the fishing story, I am the one who is sitting in a chair which has a pole holder on one of the arms, a cup holder in the other, and umbrella over it, the sunblock attached to the chairleg, and my sweater over the back of the chair. My cigarette case is velcroed to the chair seat, it has my fishing license in it. My tackle box( yes I have my own with a lock on it) is under the chair and my bait and various other necessities, (uky rag to wipe my hands on) are within reach. I have no watch, don't need it, I am not taking medicine, I am fishing.
Homer on the other hand never has a seat, he is always moving, and yelling at me,"Am I gettin a bite?" I always tell him yes, just to see him lose his grip. It is great, he starts reeling like crazy, yelling, "Grab my pole, I'll be there in a minute!" You know I just sit there. He gets all foul at the mouth, and then he snags his lure on something. He is so riled up he has to break the line. He races over to the poles, grabbing first one, and then the other, and jerking with all his might, sending the bait and hook out of the water and into his face! I just smile and sit there, " must have got off huh?" I am evil, you don't have to tell me. He always falls for it, kind of like Charlie Brown and Lucy with the football.
Then fishing for the day is over as he tries to get the lures back he lost. He has done every thing from scuba diving to making bridges with whatever is handy, tree limbs, rocks, tires, tool boxes, he knows better than to try and get my chair, I bite.
And what is the greatest is when he is wadding fishing. I would give a million bucks, if I had it , to have a cam corder that would not be ruined, if I dropped it in the water from laughing. He gets out there in his hip high rubber wadding boots, with his fishing hat on, you know the kind, it has at least 15 lures hooked to it, and casts into weeds and fallen trees, and of course gets hung up. Then instead of wadding over to the object he is hung up on he pulls it, thinking it will come loose. He never learns, it always breaks, and he is out there when the line comes back to him at warp 16 and wraps around him like a coccoon. Then he is just stuck. I don't know how many pocket knives have been lost due to dropping them in the water. We are yet to find one of the lost ones, the answer to this of course is, fish steal them. It just makes sense to me, how else do they get a way so much of the time. They have one of Homers knives and cut the line! You know I had to make it his fault some how, didn't you? hehe
I usually out fish him, but never skunk him. He always manages to catch something if it is only a cold. I have seen him try to pass off one of the minnows we had for bait as a catch! Competetive sucker isn't he? hehe I caught a 6 lb. catfish the last time we went, Homer took it off the hook for me, and held onto the camera and tried his best to take a picture. It was midnight. I asked him when he started taking photos for the blind, he told me to shutup and get in the truck. We always throw the fish back we catch and he said he didn't want to see me cry when he turned Waldo back into the pond. Waldo is caught at least once a summer, and this is my summer!
I will back out of this blog with a saying that was on a license plate I got my Dad one year for Fathers Day.
FISHERMANS CODE
Early to bed and early to rise!
Fish like hell!
And make up big lies!
heheheeeee!
lockerridge
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