I’m a little bit surprised to admit that the state of the world is really affecting my psyche. I truly believe the crux of my problem is the lack of control, because… well… it’s been bandied about that I’m a Type A person. Which is, quite frankly, ludicrous.
And to prove just how ludicrous it is, I sat down, typed up lists (alphabetized and in order of importance) of examples of me NOT being Type A, then printed a few copies (…wanted to print more but my printer was slow and I ended up tossing that sonuvabitch into the street) and plan to hand them out at our next get-together.
Type A, my ass…
Anyway, getting back to my story. I’m not handling this stuff well.
Not sleeping great.
No motivation.
Just being a bump on a log.
And I’m a little caught off guard by it. I’m not trying to insinuate that I think I’m above being affected by a worldwide pandemic, but I do kind of expect me to be able to sleep and keep my recliner time to a 16-hour minimum.
Neither seems to be the case of late.
So, during this morning’s bout of insomnia, I decided to start pushing a more glass-half-full agenda. And the first order of business was for us Isemingers to put our new fishing licenses to good use… ok… I’ve seen us in action… good might be a bit optimistic… but use was fair, dammit…
As an aside, I also watched 5 episodes of Say Yes to the Dress in an effort to defeat the insomnia…why have sleeves become so passé?
I digress.
Back to my plan.
I gave Dan his instructions: gather the fishing paraphernalia from the basement and get the picnic-type foods from the IGA.
You see… one does not simply go from recliner-ridden sloth to whirlwind like that (*snaps fingers*). My epiphany was helpful… it wasn’t life-altering for chrissakes.
Truth be told: I don’t go in the basement because Dan’s organization style can best be described as hoarding with a side of A.D.D. AND I was in charge of all the non-food picnic supplies.
Now, what I haven’t mentioned is – a good deal of my desire to make the day memorable is the fact Abby is also quite sad these days. About 3 weeks ago, she rescued a bunny from the jaws of death – our Golden Retriever, Lucy, wanted a new friend, apparently. Abs bottle-fed Oakley (we needed a gender-neutral name because none of us felt comfortable determining the gender… bear in mind, two of us have semi-medical degrees) and housed him in a plastic tote for 19 days – until we were confident s/he would live. On the 20th day Dan stopped at Tractor Supply and bought everything with the word “bunny” on it. On the 21st day… Oakley crossed over the rainbow bridge…
I promise, I did not kill that thing, but I also promise – I am not fully unhappy about it. Nonetheless, my heart nearly broke in two when I had to tell her about her bunny. I will keep the specifics of her devastation between she and I, but know that it was complete and absolutely gut-wrenching to watch.
We gave her some time and space to wallow in sorrow and mourning, but after two days, I decided she needed to get out and have some fun… so I picked fishing – something she abhors.
She does love family time, though, so I wasn’t completely off the mark. Mostly, though, I was grasping for anything at all to cheer her up because I was sorta repulsed by the fact Dan had placed the bunny in a box then back in the cage until Abby was ready to bury him/her – and it had been a full 48 hours… that shit needed to be handled. I told her we’d have family day, then bury Oakley.
She agreed… reluctantly. She was surprisingly ok with the bunny situation, her reluctance stemmed from the fact she hates fishing – but you see… that’s why I threw in the part about food. She is her momma’s daughter.
I put Cal in charge of our licenses, then took them back because I’ve seen his work. Dan, Alex and I got the food sorted and coolered appropriately and then, after some discussion about weather and clothing with a few “I don’t wanna hear you bitchin…”s thrown in… we set about our family day, knowing full well – ain’t nobody was gonna catch a fish.
We found a secluded spot and started unloading the car. We started toward the river, chatting pleasantly about life and how much fun we were about to have, then we all stopped at precisely the same moment – each realizing perhaps we should’ve brought chairs or a blanket or anything at all that would’ve provided another barrier between the wet ground and our asses.
Our fun would not be foiled.
And now I have a whole load of grass-stained pants to take care of tomorrow.
Cal loves to fish so he was the first to finish eating. He grabbed his rod, put a piece of chicken on his hook, pulled his arm back, flipped the bail and promptly landed the hook in the nearest tree.
Geezus, if the word goon wasn’t created just for him…
Oh, hey! here’s a neat pic of Dan fishing:
Yeah… this is how Dan fishes when he takes us along. We cast, snag the bottom, pull up broken line and hand him the rod. He is by far, the most patient man I have ever known.
It took about 10 casts for the three eaters to work through their first feeding, so they went back for seconds….
Yes, I know the picture is cockeyed – I was actually still fishing. Oh, and that’s Alex up in the corner – shockingly, she’s not mad at us she just got distracted by some flowers.
Such a pretty girl….
Here’s my mini-me casting – she’s not an outdoorsman so I was quite impressed by her form.
I started to walk over to tell her how much fun I was having watching her when I looked at the tree further out in the middle of the river – directly below the spot her bother had chosen up on the bridge. The tree was gyrating wildly… having forgotten that ham-fist was up there, I squinted to get a firmer grasp on what in the hell was happening with the tree. I almost pissed myself when I saw his bobber dancing along with the limbs (yeah… he was using a bobber… I have no words).
Cal brought his clusterfuck back to Dan to fix and picked up another rod while Abby handed me her rod. I cast my line – to the exact spot I wanted – and looked at Abby and said, “the boys are jelly ’cause I’m the best caster…” She started to look at me, then looked past me as she said, “Mmmmm Cal is pretty goo…..” I followed her line of vision to see Cal waving his rod, wildly while the tree to his right shook as if they were part of some synchronized choreography.
Dan finally got to throw in a line. He walked over as I expertly skimmed the bottom of the bridge for a pretty nice cast. He drew back (“gonna show you how it’s done”), let ‘er rip and landed his lure right between the double yellow up on the bridge. Abby and Cal went up to toss it back.
Cal came back a little while later and said, “Abby is winning, she’s caught 2 leaves so far…”
“HEY! I caught 2 leaves, too!”
“Mom, one of those was when you yanked your lure off the bottom and it flashed by your head and landed on the bank behind you. A bank leaf doesn’t count.”
I should’ve eaten him right after birth.
Oh, this is him trying to get his bottom-lodged lure unstuck.
For the record – the river is flowing back under the bridge… have you ever seen a bigger putz?
We are not river fishers by any stretch (Dan was, back in the day… but these days, he’s always sitting on his ass playing with his tackle box). We caught 6 leaves total, 7 twigs and 3 trees. But we had fun.
While my 4 idiots were up on the bridge, I decided to stay down below and revel in the solitude of the rushing water. I was thinking about how blessed my life is – it’s far from perfect but it suits me, perfectly. I thought back to all the laughs we’d shared during this outing as I lazily drew back my rod to cast it… I swung it out wide and released the button…. or thought I did, anyway… until I felt the hook in my ass.
I almost pissed myself before I could get up to the top to tell my people. I was dancing on the bridge, legs crossed, bent over… hands doing their best to stop it… gasping out the words… I can only imagine what the old guy in the passing car thought…
We decided to call it a day before somebody lost an eye… On the way home we stopped to see my mom. It has been over a year – I just don’t get any kind of peace at the cemetery, but I felt we needed to stop.
It seems the guy next to mom passed away a year ago, Thursday – his headstone was decorated to the nines…
and you know us – we can’t be outdone to THAT extent. Abby said she wants to figure out how to wire up a blinking arrow…
I made plans with Pop for us to get some flowers and at least give her a respectable showing. It’ll feel good to get her all fixed up.
As we pulled into the driveway Abby said, “Well, I guess I’m ready to bury bunny, now.”
Cal said, “I’ll dig the hole for you Abs.”
We gave them a few minutes, then Dan and I went out to join them. The 3 kids already had him/her covered back over. Not gonna lie… it was a little anticlimactic.
Cal and Alex told Abby they’d jump with her on the trampoline because they knew she was upset. I smiled at them and headed back into the house, with my heart full. Is there any better feeling for a mom than knowing her kids love each other? And knowing that, in a time of perpetual togetherness, there is still great joy in that togetherness… It was a beautiful start to changing my perspective… well… not the lure-in-the-ass part… that shit sorta hurt.
❤️❤️❤️
<3
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