Now that’s I’ve introduced you to Cowboy and Grandma D, I should probably introduce you to my new best friend and AWESOMEST ANGLER EVER — Ladyfish Shakespeare.
Ladyfish Shakespeare is my new fishing rod. She’s long. She’s lean. And she’s pink.
Together, we’ve caught nothing more than Lyme Disease from all the the TICKS up in our grills.
It all started like this:
I grew up, graduated college and moved to a cold, isolated state that celebrates winter six months a year.
I never hated four walls until I was required to spend all my time within them. Had I stepped outside to RETRIEVE THE MAIL this winter, my toenails would catch gangrene and fall off, forcing me to feed them to Frosty, the Abominable Snowman. And his breath already reeks of funky.
So when Cowboy suggested I “so go fishing” with him and his dad, I so wanted to say, Sure, drop me at the nearest mall, please. But instead, I just said, “A’Ok.”
Maybe it was all that refer talking.
A Twin Lake and over-flowing river (with flood water once so high, picnic tables still stick in the trees) later, me and Ladyfish have yet to catch anything more than sea salad. Although we are pretty good at that.
In fact, we took to that lake like a Northern Pike to water. The only problem was, the Northern Pike didn’t take to us.
Northern Pike: a.k.a. “snot rocket” or literally “water wolf.” Basically, a bully of a fish that anglers rarely eat because the flesh is so boney. And while to me, not-eating-fish takes away from THE WHOLE POINT of catching them, the challenge in pike capture lies with sticking your finger in its EYEBALL. That way you don’t stick it near the fish’s fang-filled mouth.
And while I prefer to use marshmallows for bait, Cowboy swears by minnows. With my fishing-record, however, What’s the dif?
My 0-2 fishing record though, is not so much due to lack of skill as it is due to our natural kindness.
See, as is Ladyfish's and my custom, we collect fish like compliments at the bar: too many to even remember.
But if we were to do that with Cowboy and his country companions, they’d surely accidentally-on-purpose back their pick ups over my 37 pairs of pink pointy-toed shoes. And WHAT WOULD I DO without them?
Ladyfish and I do other things to hide my angling agility too. Every single time and twice when no one was looking Sometimes, I even let Cowboy bait the hook.
So while I've fished twice and caught nothing, I'm pretty sure country companions' luck runneth dry. Pretty soon the Game and Fish department will GPS-bracelet my ankle because Ladyfish and I over-exceeded the catch limit so many times. She's such a tease.
And to the moms, dads and all members of the Rodenburg family, I simply cannot fish without red Twizzlers, “3 Ninjas” and macaroni and cheese, no cheese. In fact, I almost put three different kinds of cereal in the same bowl this morning. And you wonder why my therapy bill is so high...
PS: If any of you still have the Minnesota potato recipe, I’ll gladly skeeze it from you. Should I ever CATCH a fish one day, I’ll need some greasy carbohydrates to go with it.