WORMS and a WOMAN     
Tina Tesh

             It's all about the worm, you know. It doesn't matter what bait you prefer, or what techniques are more favorable for a specific species of fish, it's about the worm. And today, a worm is what it's about, especially since the woman is tagging along." Take me fishing, take me fishing, OH PLEASE honey, take me fishing, won't you? “The desperate shrill in her voice told me that there was no way out of it this time. I knew I was had the second Joe called and canceled for our morning trip, his wife was sick. Wish mine was. So here we go, my only day to enjoy the freedoms of our family's cottage without being told when to come home for lunch, or being asked to plea se weedwhack the yard before I go back to the docks, was going to be just that, except today she'll be at the docks with me. But at least I'm going fishing, maybe I can tune her out, or perhaps explain to her that fish get offended at cutesie wootsie mushy stuff. No, she'll never buy it.

         The morning alarm sounded. I reached over and to my surprise; the bed lay empty next to me. I rose out of my bed already fretting about my clothing pick for the day. She'll complain if I wear stained clothes, or look a mess, yet she'll scold me when I go to wipe fish guts from my hands on to freshly laundered unstained, unholy Jeans. Oh dear, this is going to be harder than I thought. Oh well, wear the good stuff bring the laundered dirty clothes along. Too much baggage for fishing, but then again....

          Ahhh, the smell of fresh coffee, Wow, she seen me coming down the hallway and has my cup poured. Then I saw the pile by the door, two coolers, a duffle bag, and her beach umbrella? Oh, no way. Trying to stay calm, I slowly walked to her, gave her a gentle kiss good morning , grasped my coffee cup in my hand, and took a sip off the top. I really didn't want to make waves today; we could be staying home to clean the garage. Quietly I asked her what was in each and every thing and why she felt we needed it. I wanted to work her up to figure it out for herself that we really didn't need anything but our fishing gear, and one small cooler perhaps for something to wet our whistle and a sandwich or two. I also explained to her that my fishing spot is well shaded, and that we would need room for all the fish we were going to catch. Thank God, the umbrella and one cooler is staying. Good enough, Let's Go!!

         Is the coffee pot off? Did you lock the door? Do you have the keys; maybe we should go back and check? She just kept going, my minded drifted far ahead to the moment my line was in. “honey, are you listening?" Oh yeah I said, thinking, I can't wait to get there.

       And finally, pulling in to the cottage drive I could see the creek, and my feet couldn't keep up with the pace my heart wanted to get me to that water's edge. We walked along the stony road, each with gear in hand. Worms , we need worms. Flipping over a few rocks along the way would certainly bring us enough worms to fish for a couple of hours, besides the fewer worms we have perhaps she'll lose interest and want to return to the cottage ALONE. We came to the point of the docking canal and the main creek. Our sinkers and hooks, I had prepared the night before. I insisted on putting the worms on. If I had let her, we would have been spending the afternoon in the not so comfort of the local emergency room. I explained to her how to bait the hook just so. Slide the worm over the hook, with just enough hanging off to be able to tease the fish and get their attention. What a thought I had as I glanced up at her bosom, and gave her a compliment on the shirt she was wearing. That made her smile. We cast our lines, and sat. She kept peering at the end of my pole. When a fish hits, you'll know it, I told her. Well, at least 30 minutes went by and golly gee this was actually relaxing. I glanced over at her and thought how strange that this is the second time she is reeling in her line. She looked over at me and explained that she just didn't like the placement of her line. Rolling my eyes under my hat so she couldn't see them, I chuckled to myself and thought of how she would not be able to even get a nibble if she didn't leave her line in the same place long enough, did she think she was fly fishing? Oh well, let her go.

        Another 30 minutes ticked by and I was actually in the utmost relaxed mode when I saw her shadow out of the corner of my eye getting closer, oh, no I'm not done yet. She wants to go back to the cottage ALONE. Yes, this is my lucky day, Oh No... She is going back to make lunch, I don't want to go, I want to stay here. After a brief pause in our conversation, she once again peered at the tip of my pole. "I think you just got some bites honey." Knowing my foot brushed the handle of my pole, I didn't get so excited. And of course, the movement stopped. She announced her departure and said "better pull your line up to make sure the fish didn't steal your worm." She's telling me HOW to fish??? Blowing off her statement I sat in tranquility as she walked up the road away from my sacred spot to leave for lunch? No way. A few moments went by as I sucked in all the quietness had to offer. I looked around and decided that I would move a few feet up the shoreline to see if there was any better action closer to the mouth of the docking canal. I wound my reel chuckling at the thought of that woman. Reeling in I studied the line as it came up out of the water. A new spot, yep that's what I needed. Then I can get back to the relaxing part of it all. As the Line grew shorter, and my sinker was beginning to surface, my eyes traced the line up to the hook's knot. Something's missing. My worm had been robbed. I was stunned in amazement and looked up the road to make sure no one was watching, especially HER. I attached my hook to my rod, picked up my tackle box and walked up the road. Maybe I was hungry after all. Damn Woman.

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