More my speed.
Alan has decided he will never fish with me again.
It seems extreme, but I can’t really say I blame him. Not after how I behaved last week.
We were in Michigan, visiting my family. My parents have a cottage on a small lake, and – in accordance with some unwritten Michigan Lake law – a pontoon boat. One night at sunset we decided to grab some fishing poles, some bait, and putter out into the lake to see if we could catch anything.
As a kid, I loved fishing and was generally pretty lucky with what I’d catch. Before our annual trek to visit my grandparents in Alabama, I’d be out in our back garden, digging up worms so I could take down some Real Michigan Nightcrawlers for Papa. He always swore they were bigger than Alabama worms, and I believed him.
pithypants 