Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Gone Fishin', Fishin's Gone.

I would have so fewer pie portraits without digital photography.....
Apple Blackberry. Good stuff.

So Lily got it in her head that she wanted to go fishing. It was a long haul to and through the holiday weekend, but Mark agreed to take her down to the pond after he grabbed a quick nap.

To help her pass the time while she was waiting I sent her on a worm digging mission. It's been pretty dry and she'd come back to me time after time empty-handed and with a little bead of sweat on her brow. Sad. So she and daddy had to make a worm run up to the gas station. Does your gas station carry worms?

A benefit of fishing at home is no special attire is required. You can wear your napping clothes.
She caught a baby bass. (All the fish are kind of babies still.) She said she wanted to eat him (because it is her mission in life to just say things to see what we'll say in return) but we told her it still has lots of growing to do and he was returned to the pond.And she caught a pretty little yellow perch which I didn't get a photo of because Mark was too traumatized by the hook being irretrievable and I was all flustered. The perch was sent back to the pond but its final fate is unknown.
No doubt Mark has had the uncooperative hook scenario more times than I can count. He's been fishing and hunting and trapping since he was a boy. But this time was different. We know these fish. And he was upset that the perch was injured, so he called 'No more fishing in the pond.'

No more fishing in the pond that was engineered and cultivated specifically for fishing. That was stocked with hundreds of dollars in fish, outfitted with a more-than-hundreds of dollars worth of fountain for aeration, that receives bimonthly servings of some mystery powders that help digest excess plant matter & provide minerals to the fish...Eh, whatever. I pretty much think of the fish as pets now, too. They come when you feed them, for pete's sake.

But that didn't eliminate Lily's urgent need to go fishing. She was just getting warmed up. So Mark took her to a local sportsman's (sportsmen's?) club he belongs to where they could fish for fish strangers.

Plus, this club is hillbilly enough that you can still wear your napping clothes and everyone is either 1. wearing the same outfit or 2. too drunk to notice.
We don't get out there enough, I tell ya...

On the way to the club:
See the mother deer and her 2 fawns?

Here is the Loch Ness Beaver:
I think the photo is just bad enough to give that Loch Ness monster vibe. There were actually 2 young beavers swimming and slapping their tails in the water in front of us. Pretty cute.

We left in a rush and only had 1 hook and bobber but Mark knew to scout around for cast off fishing gear in the pavilions and fire pits. He scored one more hook and bobber.

He set Lily up and coached her from a picnic bench. She caught a wee little blue gill. She fidgeted and chattered and missed lots of bites because she was staring off into space.

She wanted to try casting by herself and Mark let her try. She managed to wrap the line around the pavilion poles and the hook and its worm flew off into no man's land. Thank goodness for that found hook or fishing would've been over.

The sun was setting and the bats were flying. Mark said he was going to cast her line out into King Catfish Country.

And she got a bite.

From King Catfish:
Though I like to say it could be a Queen Catfish. It spit out the hook right at the shore and Mark had to catch it with his bare hands. Excitement!And Lily said she wanted to eat it (of course, because she must say it) but Mark had other plans.

We had no bucket of water to transport it in, but Mark said you can practically leave a catfish lay in the yard half a day and it will swim right away once you put it in the water. Not that you would want to...

But it turns out he was right. We live a mile or two away and after its car ride, King (or Queen) Catfish swam off with much vim and vigor as soon as it touched the water of our pond.
Welcome home, Catfish.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

A Bee-utiful Thing

How much do I love this lady? Even though she's been teasing me for a while with little bee and honey themed tidbits on her blog lately.
Tidbits like this:
Looks like a bee has been dancing all about here:
Ha! There she is! Isn't she cute?This is so cool:And this is a work of art: (YoYo the cat approves.)
A genuine Osage Bluff Quilter quilt! For Baby "B" Bedillion. It is magnificent and I have to resist carrying it around everywhere with me to show it off to everyone. My photos don't do it any justice and there are so many cool things on it.
Patti, you are a SWEETHEART!!!!!!! (You too, Blacksmith ! :) ) We thank you thank you thank you! It is a treasure!
Big Smooch & Big Hug,
The Bee-dillions

Friday, July 2, 2010

Baby Got Björk

Poop Patch!
I picked Sam & Lil up from swimming at Mom's the other day and of course Sam immediately picked up on whatever music I'm playing ad nauseum in the car, because that's how I do. That day I happened to be rocking out to Björk's Greatest Hits and I insisted to Sam that the baby likes it. That's why I have to turn it up real loud so the baby can rock out too.

It also led to a discussion of Iceland and Björk's appeal and Greenland and its barrenness and just some general good-hearted disagreeing and making fun of mom. Good times.

Things I've said lately:

To these cats this morning when I caught them smooching and hugging. "You kids are crazy." Not "cats" or "kitties" but "kids" as in "people."
To Gentelman Jim, our resident yard bird Rooster, when I saw a third chicken in his harem (a boy chicken, too!): "Who's that chicken?" Not "what" but "who" as in "person."

To Mark while I sat and chatted with him at the market while a customer stood nearby unbeknownst to me: "My butthole still hurts." Don't get excited. I was generalizing the area of discomfort for comic effect. My, shall we say, saddle-area, has been having some major ligament pain combined with various baby-kicking of my innards in that general region, and I was over-sharing as I am wont to do, that's all.
Let's just be glad I clammed up and didn't try to clarify all that to the customer. It could only go downhill from "My butthole still hurts."

And these are only the things I've said out loud lately. Goodness knows what I'm saying inside this fun house of a brain.
Probably "Baby Got Björk" to the tune of this:

And now you are, too!!! :)