I've had a couple of folks reach out and wonder where my fishing reports have been, which prompted me to provide an explanation . . . and document a challenge.
As a Catholic, we observe Lent. For those of you who aren't familiar with it, it's a 40 day period where you suck all the fun out of life and make yourself intentionally miserable. There are all sorts of fun ways that you can do this - give up stuff you like, do stuff you hate, the opportunities are endless. I think next year I'm going to convert to something that requires me to do fun stuff all the time. If it doesn't exist, I'm gonna start it. Who's in?
Anywho, the whole point of this is really to master things that enslave you. Things that start out as fun and enjoyable have a way of slowly enslaving you. Like good food? Isn't long before you get picky and won't eat anything else. Like to drink? Pretty soon it just can't be 5:00 soon enough. Hate doing something? Pretty soon you find yourself working awful hard to avoid it . . . You get the picture.
I had to think long and hard this year about what to do. Actually, that's not entirely true, I knew immediately what I needed to do, I just didn't want to do it.
I had to give up fishing . . . or at least try. I mean, come on, yes it's only 40 days, but it's 40 days SMACK in the MIDDLE of the best time of year! And I haven't even FISHED this part of the year in Wilmington yet!
Before you call me crazy, I should explain why. It's gotten a little out of hand. Things usually start Sunday evening, after the weekend. The trip I managed to go on wasn't long enough, didn't produce enough fish, or worse, it was long enough, produced enough fish, and was so spectacular. Either way, I'm miserable. I'm either miserable because I feel like I blew a great opportunity on the water, or it was so darned good, I just wish I was out there again. But, of course, I can't be, because I have bills to pay, kids to raise, a wife to take care of, and a honey do list that as items on it from 1992.
Monday isn't any better, because, well, it's Monday. I still have the Sunday blues, but now I've been at work all day thinking about how I'd rather be fishing, and secretly running up and down the coast on Google Earth scoping out spots I should have tried last weekend and have to try this weekend.
Of course, there are so many places I need to try that I get depressed because I only have a few hours to go and I can't try all of them.
Tuesday is a rinse and repeat of Monday, but add in a little more anxiety because now I'm watching the weather forecast, which is becoming more accurate and trying to reconcile all the other schedules around the best time/day for fishing.
Wednesday, take Tuesday and multiply it by 6. Now the conversations begin with my wife that sound like "Honey, what do we have planned this weekend?" At which point she reminds me of 6 things I hadn't thought of on Tuesday that HAVE to happen on Saturday, which is when the weather was going to be decent. Sunday is free . . . except for the fact we go to Mass in the morning and I teach a class in the evening. So my fishing window of opportunity is 4 hours in the middle of the day . . . when it's going to rain, blow, and freeze.
Thursday, after mapping it all out in my head, and reminding myself that I can fish in bad weather, I check the weather, and it's now changed. Saturday is going to be prettier, Sunday is going to be Armageddon. Oh, and the thing that had to happen on Saturday is now going to be moved to Sunday. But my wife gets me. She is really spectacular. She knows how much I love to fish and she's trying even harder than I am to get the schedules to work. She says things like "Honey, it's fine, I don't have to go grocery shopping, and we really don't have to watch our daughters big gymnastics meet, go fishing!" And the worst part is she really means it. (She doesn't have to give anything up for Lent, she has a ticket to heaven for putting up with me).
Friday, I'm in an absolute tizzy over which place to fish, who to go with, when to go, and how to make it as easy on the family as possible.
Saturday, I go when I really shouldn't have.
Sunday . . . well, repeat all of the above.
So, between now and Easter, I'm not going fishing.
I'll keep you posted on how I do . . . .
As a Catholic, we observe Lent. For those of you who aren't familiar with it, it's a 40 day period where you suck all the fun out of life and make yourself intentionally miserable. There are all sorts of fun ways that you can do this - give up stuff you like, do stuff you hate, the opportunities are endless. I think next year I'm going to convert to something that requires me to do fun stuff all the time. If it doesn't exist, I'm gonna start it. Who's in?
Anywho, the whole point of this is really to master things that enslave you. Things that start out as fun and enjoyable have a way of slowly enslaving you. Like good food? Isn't long before you get picky and won't eat anything else. Like to drink? Pretty soon it just can't be 5:00 soon enough. Hate doing something? Pretty soon you find yourself working awful hard to avoid it . . . You get the picture.
I had to think long and hard this year about what to do. Actually, that's not entirely true, I knew immediately what I needed to do, I just didn't want to do it.
I had to give up fishing . . . or at least try. I mean, come on, yes it's only 40 days, but it's 40 days SMACK in the MIDDLE of the best time of year! And I haven't even FISHED this part of the year in Wilmington yet!
Before you call me crazy, I should explain why. It's gotten a little out of hand. Things usually start Sunday evening, after the weekend. The trip I managed to go on wasn't long enough, didn't produce enough fish, or worse, it was long enough, produced enough fish, and was so spectacular. Either way, I'm miserable. I'm either miserable because I feel like I blew a great opportunity on the water, or it was so darned good, I just wish I was out there again. But, of course, I can't be, because I have bills to pay, kids to raise, a wife to take care of, and a honey do list that as items on it from 1992.
Monday isn't any better, because, well, it's Monday. I still have the Sunday blues, but now I've been at work all day thinking about how I'd rather be fishing, and secretly running up and down the coast on Google Earth scoping out spots I should have tried last weekend and have to try this weekend.
Of course, there are so many places I need to try that I get depressed because I only have a few hours to go and I can't try all of them.
Tuesday is a rinse and repeat of Monday, but add in a little more anxiety because now I'm watching the weather forecast, which is becoming more accurate and trying to reconcile all the other schedules around the best time/day for fishing.
Wednesday, take Tuesday and multiply it by 6. Now the conversations begin with my wife that sound like "Honey, what do we have planned this weekend?" At which point she reminds me of 6 things I hadn't thought of on Tuesday that HAVE to happen on Saturday, which is when the weather was going to be decent. Sunday is free . . . except for the fact we go to Mass in the morning and I teach a class in the evening. So my fishing window of opportunity is 4 hours in the middle of the day . . . when it's going to rain, blow, and freeze.
Thursday, after mapping it all out in my head, and reminding myself that I can fish in bad weather, I check the weather, and it's now changed. Saturday is going to be prettier, Sunday is going to be Armageddon. Oh, and the thing that had to happen on Saturday is now going to be moved to Sunday. But my wife gets me. She is really spectacular. She knows how much I love to fish and she's trying even harder than I am to get the schedules to work. She says things like "Honey, it's fine, I don't have to go grocery shopping, and we really don't have to watch our daughters big gymnastics meet, go fishing!" And the worst part is she really means it. (She doesn't have to give anything up for Lent, she has a ticket to heaven for putting up with me).
Friday, I'm in an absolute tizzy over which place to fish, who to go with, when to go, and how to make it as easy on the family as possible.
Saturday, I go when I really shouldn't have.
Sunday . . . well, repeat all of the above.
So, between now and Easter, I'm not going fishing.
I'll keep you posted on how I do . . . .