Man was fearfully and wonderfully made. And God looked at man, rubbed his chin, and said, “Man is lonesome. He needs someone who can remember to put a new bar of soap in the shower.”
So God made woman. A helpmate for the man; someone who could find the mustard behind the milk in the refrigerator. And who could produce two clean, matching socks from dust mites in the air at 6:30 a.m.
And who would emerge from the shower with a $20 hot oil frizz-reduction hair conditioning treatment streaming down her shoulders to locate and unwrap a new bar of soap so that the next person would not have to shower using the last bit of dandruff shampoo as a body scrub.
Only God knows why a man, who can remember the quarterly scores from every Super Bowl from the dawn of civilization to present day replays, cannot remember to replace the soap when he leaves the shower. Somewhere between reaching for the towel and stirring creamer into his coffee, his priorities shift.
But while God is chuckling over the soap sliver bit, woman is in the kitchen raising her hands to heaven and crying, “Lord, never mind the soap. Why can’t man learn to put the twist tie back on the bread? Why does he have to do that twirl and tuck thing with the bread wrapper? You know I hate that.”
And God smiled. “He’s innovative.”
Then woman heads to the laundry room to bring new life to dingy whites and to zap spaghetti spots with her miracle stain remover stick. And she cries to heaven again, “Lord, why can’t he simply place his dirty underwear in the laundry basket? Why must he do that foot-flip snatch and grab act with his boxers? You know I’m expected to applaud every single time he catches them.”
And God nodded knowingly. “He’s creative.”
“Okay, God, I get it. Those little things that make me crazier than a salesclerk on Black Friday are the things he uses to make a better way in life. But just between you and me, God, what about that thing with the remote? Why can’t he leave the TV on one channel for longer than it takes to focus on David Letterman’s tooth gap?”
“Oh, that’s easy, God replied. That’s to keep you from having to watch three straight hours of How to Make Your Own Bait on the Fishing Channel.”
“You ARE wise,” Woman whispered. “Tell me, though. In heaven will he wake up every morning scratching his backside?”
“I’m working on that one,” answered God pensively. “The trouble is we have a problem with everybody staying clean.”
“In heaven?” The woman was astounded. “How can that be?”
“Well,” sighed God. “Everybody’s so busy watching television and looking for the mustard in the refrigerator, that nobody ever remembers to put new soap in the shower.”
Laugh
Showing posts with label fishing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fishing. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Monday, May 26, 2008
Taking the Bait
“An outing with the children can be a pleasant and enjoyable event.” I smiled encouragingly.
“If they’re sedated.” Dad thinks I can't hear him when he mumbles behind the newspaper. I couldn't help but notice that he'd circled all the advertisements for houses for sale over the state line.
“The thing to remember, Dad, is that with children, the theory “Less is More” definitely applies. "Just remember that you’re in control.”
Dad, a doting grandfather, was preparing to take the boys on a fishing trip to the lake. He is perfectly willing to do it again, he says, just as soon as the bandages come off.
“The thing to remember,” he said steadily, peering at me over the top of his glasses, “is that I was fishing thirty years before you could put a worm on the hook without doing the boogie woogie.”
“Well, this should be right up your alley, then”
“Last time I took them fishing, I spent six hours cutting my fishing tackle down out of trees. I have enough gear in that old pine tree to open up a tackle shop.” Dad shot me a “you owe me big” look and headed out the door behind the boys.
Later on, he whiled away the time in the Emergency Room jotting down notes to remember. I blame the painkillers for the noticeable lack of feeling. Here are his notes:
1. Baiting Your Hook
The thing to remember when taking young boys fishing is not to use live bait, unless it’s live corn. Whining and crying can be avoided by a bit of creative forethought. Besides, hysterics frighten the fish as well as the children.
There are any number of products that can be successfully used for bait if they actually make it as far as the water. Jerky strips, corn, cat chow, and peanut butter sandwiches all work well for pond fish as it is all quite easily recognizable with no “ooky” parts. They also go on the hook easily with minimum damage to small fingers or bare feet. A simple gold #8 Eagle Claw in the big toe will help to convince him to wear proper gear, such as shoes, at the lake. Shouting @#*^%! does little good except to get you in trouble when both boys sing out @#*^%! upon returning home to Mother.
2. Casting Your Line
The thing to remember about casting is that once you release the button, the line will actually leave the reel. If your rod is pointed toward the lake, the hook will drop neatly into water with a satisfying plop. Likewise, if you release the button as the rod tip aims pointedly at the tree directly overhead, your bob will direct the line around random twigs and branches and your hook will secure itself into hard wood at least ten feet out of your reach. Let me stress again that screaming @#*^%! will produce sentiment likely to be repeated in front of undesirable people, such your wife who will punish you by refusing to make supper in order to teach you a lesson.
3. Catching a Fish
No matter how hard you try to prevent it, one or more of the children may actually catch a fish. Be forewarned that the child will jerk the line wildly and reel the fish in frantically, responding to any well meaning advice with an air of defiance.
“Keep your rod tip down,” you offer calmly.
“If you don’t stop yelling at me, I’m telling Mom,” he bellows, rod tip pointing erratically at a flock of wild geese overhead.
Once the fish has survived the trip to shore, your little fisherman will refuse any contact. “Take it off the hook, Pop,” he’ll squeal.
If it’s a catfish, calmly show him how to hold the fish under the two needle-sharp pointy fins so as not to be lanced indiscriminately by an unthinking fish. Little Fisherman will disregard all advice and reach for the gaping mouth of the fish, impale himself on the point and jerk rapidly, flinging the fish in your general direction. Immediate action is required. Scream @#*^%!
Dad’s notes end at this point. I figure the ambulance arrived not long after. All I know is that when I visited him in the hospital, he requested a large meal before he went home, and his chart listed his given name as @#^%.
“If they’re sedated.” Dad thinks I can't hear him when he mumbles behind the newspaper. I couldn't help but notice that he'd circled all the advertisements for houses for sale over the state line.
“The thing to remember, Dad, is that with children, the theory “Less is More” definitely applies. "Just remember that you’re in control.”
Dad, a doting grandfather, was preparing to take the boys on a fishing trip to the lake. He is perfectly willing to do it again, he says, just as soon as the bandages come off.
“The thing to remember,” he said steadily, peering at me over the top of his glasses, “is that I was fishing thirty years before you could put a worm on the hook without doing the boogie woogie.”
“Well, this should be right up your alley, then”
“Last time I took them fishing, I spent six hours cutting my fishing tackle down out of trees. I have enough gear in that old pine tree to open up a tackle shop.” Dad shot me a “you owe me big” look and headed out the door behind the boys.
Later on, he whiled away the time in the Emergency Room jotting down notes to remember. I blame the painkillers for the noticeable lack of feeling. Here are his notes:
1. Baiting Your Hook
The thing to remember when taking young boys fishing is not to use live bait, unless it’s live corn. Whining and crying can be avoided by a bit of creative forethought. Besides, hysterics frighten the fish as well as the children.
There are any number of products that can be successfully used for bait if they actually make it as far as the water. Jerky strips, corn, cat chow, and peanut butter sandwiches all work well for pond fish as it is all quite easily recognizable with no “ooky” parts. They also go on the hook easily with minimum damage to small fingers or bare feet. A simple gold #8 Eagle Claw in the big toe will help to convince him to wear proper gear, such as shoes, at the lake. Shouting @#*^%! does little good except to get you in trouble when both boys sing out @#*^%! upon returning home to Mother.
2. Casting Your Line
The thing to remember about casting is that once you release the button, the line will actually leave the reel. If your rod is pointed toward the lake, the hook will drop neatly into water with a satisfying plop. Likewise, if you release the button as the rod tip aims pointedly at the tree directly overhead, your bob will direct the line around random twigs and branches and your hook will secure itself into hard wood at least ten feet out of your reach. Let me stress again that screaming @#*^%! will produce sentiment likely to be repeated in front of undesirable people, such your wife who will punish you by refusing to make supper in order to teach you a lesson.
3. Catching a Fish
No matter how hard you try to prevent it, one or more of the children may actually catch a fish. Be forewarned that the child will jerk the line wildly and reel the fish in frantically, responding to any well meaning advice with an air of defiance.
“Keep your rod tip down,” you offer calmly.
“If you don’t stop yelling at me, I’m telling Mom,” he bellows, rod tip pointing erratically at a flock of wild geese overhead.
Once the fish has survived the trip to shore, your little fisherman will refuse any contact. “Take it off the hook, Pop,” he’ll squeal.
If it’s a catfish, calmly show him how to hold the fish under the two needle-sharp pointy fins so as not to be lanced indiscriminately by an unthinking fish. Little Fisherman will disregard all advice and reach for the gaping mouth of the fish, impale himself on the point and jerk rapidly, flinging the fish in your general direction. Immediate action is required. Scream @#*^%!
Dad’s notes end at this point. I figure the ambulance arrived not long after. All I know is that when I visited him in the hospital, he requested a large meal before he went home, and his chart listed his given name as @#^%.
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