Fishin' since been fishin' since been fishin'....

Yesterday, my boyfriend took me fishing in order to "break in" my new waders! We went in early evening and I must say, I guess I've never fully seen a hatch in full swing, but the flies were flying and the fish were jumpin'!

We got our waders on and wandered out into the river (well, he walked, I almost fell - several times!). We finally got to a good spot and he got the rods ready with just the right fly. As I'm watching him, something hit my head - yes, folks, bird poo. Right on my head! And of course, no hat! So after we got that cleaned off (somewhat), he took me out into the middle of the river and started to give me a refresher on casting (its been a while, and honestly, I wasn't that great the couple times I tried last year!).

After a little while, I caught my first fish! A brown trout!! It didn't take long (once I was able to get the fly into the water), so then it was his turn... And his turn lasted.

And lasted.

And lasted.

It seemed like forever and he didn't catch a fish (he did hook a bunch - but lost them). Finally, he passed the rod back to me - he wanted me to fish some more. I hadn't cast more than 2 or 3 times and I caught another brown trout!! That's 2 baby!!

When he finally caught on that my flies (which were supposed to be dry flies and sit ON the water) were actually sinking and I was catching as I started to strip the line in, he realized it was a job for...da da da...THE EMERGER. Yes, that's a fly!

So when it was his turn, he finally caught a trout - but after another long while! Oh well...MY TURN!

Wouldn't you know it? Cast...cast...cast....HOOK! I caught another! I was loving it!

He finally got frustrated enough and said I obviously didn't need anymore help, so he got his rod off the river bank and I fished myself with him next to me... And guess what...!

ANOTHER FISH!!

Yes folks - the final score was me - 4 fish, my boyfriend....ONE.

You know I was loving it!! And all-in-all, I'll say it definitely was a great way to spend an evening...bird poo and all!

(P.S. photos to come of my catches....!)

NKOTB is back!

Ok, you may roll your eyes - but it brings me back to my childhood...



And this too...

Never a dull moment!

Ok, so its been a while....my humblest apologies! I've been busy. The sun was in my eyes. There was a baby crying. Um...the dog ate my homework?

Excuses aside, I DO have a good story for today to make up for my MIA-ings!

So last night, Luna was romping outside close to dusk. I'd last seen her in the back yard frolicking (even though she's not normally a frolicker) so I went to see what she was up to now. I walked out the back door and as I got to the end of the house, I thought I saw her eating from the cat dish that my mother feeds her "outside" (read: Feral but trapped, neutered and released) cats, so I went up to "Luna" saying hello only to realize it was a HUGE raccoon!

Now you'd think this is what I would've seen....

or even THIS...

But ooooh no! The raccoon saw me and wasn't too happy. In fact, this is similar to what I saw...
With a little of this sprinkled in...


He then proceeded to grab the bowl and drag it with him as he tried to eat just. one. more. bite. That's when I decided to head back inside. :)

Of course, when I told my father, he asked if maybe I really saw Luna and NOT a raccoon (he calls her "raccoon" because he thinks she looks like one). Of course I know the difference between a raccoon and my baby girl! Some people, I tell ya!

So that was my big excitement last night. Almost got my face chewed off by a raccoon. Gotta love warm evenings outdoors!

Vindication?

After years of telling my parents that they were harder on me growing up than my brother (who is 10 years younger than me), I finally have proof - other than my own opinion!

A recent study shows that parents tend to be tougher on the oldest child than the younger ones. They expect more from the eldest, and often have higher standards (which, in my book, translates into double standards!)...

An excerpt from the article linked above is as follows:

Ed Newman, a first-born...would never consider breaking his 11 p.m. curfew. He even remembers ignoring a group of buddies who repeatedly rapped on his window one night, trying to get him to come out. “It just seemed … wrong,” says Newman, now 55 and living in Duluth, Minn.

Flash forward 30-odd years later, and Newman’s youngest brother, eight years his junior, hits him with this piece of information: Baby brother Robert didn’t even have a curfew growing up.

“I knew my parents had loosened up some, but I didn’t know they had loosened up completely!” says Newman.

This is the same brother, Newman adds, who once singed off his eyelashes and eyebrows after making an explosive that blew up in his face.

Please, you could just switch out Ed's name for mine and my brother's name for baby brother Robert in the excerpt above!!

Now, I have to admit to a few tarnishes on my halo - I often missed my curfew, but by 15-20 minutes....NOT hours! But, I doubt my brother even had a curfew, and if it was, it was sun-up! And keep in mind that my brother DID set the floor of his bedroom on fire, but hey, we won't go there.

This goes to prove what I've been saying all along! I never gave my parents real reason to worry - I was an honor student, always was where I told them I'd be, followed the rules - and yet they were extremely strict with me (to the point that my friends still make fun of it to this day). My brother, on the other hand? He gave them PLENTY of reason to worry but they never were as strict with him.

Fair? I think not. But at least now I have scientific evidence that I was right all along! :)

What is wrong with some people?

I've been following the story out west of the Columbia River and how the salmon population is collapsing due to over-fishing. My boyfriend being an avid (to say the least) fisherman here in NJ, this story has a particular interest to me.

In a nutshell, the salmon population is collapsing and the fishermen (who obviously don't want restrictions on their fishing time) are blaming it on sea lions who feed off the salmon as they swim upriver to spawn. These sea lions, however, have very little impact on the "take" - I read somewhere that it was under 10%... So something else is causing this collapse - whether its over-fishing or climate change or some other factor. But the amount of salmon the sea lions are taking are not enough to cause the collapse.

Originally, the plan was to remove the sea lions - lethally if necessary. However, the Humane Society is challenging the use of lethal force, and until a judge rules on its use, the sea lions are being trapped with the intent to relocate them.

Well, over the weekend, SIX of these federally protected animals were found shot to death IN traps on the river. Some coward shot them as they lay helpless in a trap that was intended to save their life, not make them an easy target for some looser with a gun. What is wrong with these people?? I hope the gunman gets what he (or she...or they?) deserve! People who are so pathetic don't deserve to be alive in my opinion....

Pathetic.

(Note: my boyfriend and I have discussed the collapse of the salmon population in the Columbia River, and he believes in restrictions as opposed to over fishing until there is a crisis and then no one can fish.... Moderation people! That includes NOT killing helpless animals in traps!)

Happy Anniversary!

One year ago today - this morning to be exact - my divorce from Jeremy was finalized. Looking back on the past year, so much has happened - all for the good.

I was lucky - even though his emotional and verbal abuse lasted for most of the 8 years we were together, I got out alive and mostly in tact. And so did Luna. We both just now bear the emotional scars left by Jeremy's abuse and the past year has allowed the two of us to heal....or at least to begin to. And I know that as time goes by, Luna and I will only get stronger and better so that helps me look towards the future with hope.

Poor Possum

I had a pretty rough night last night... After being at work until 9:40 PM (yes, you read right), my boyfriend and I were driving home down a back road (as in a dark back road) and all of a sudden, my headlights picked up an injured possum on the side of the road - but still IN the road. I immediately pulled over, because I realized that while he was in seriously bad shape, he was still alive, and being run over repeatedly is no way to go for any living creature.

My boyfriend knew how much it would upset me to see him suffer, but I insisted stopping because I just couldn't leave him... So we pulled up behind him so the lights were shining on him and I grabbed the 2 pairs of work gloves I have in my trunk for just this situation. We were afraid to touch him because he kept laying down, and then would struggle to stand up and move, but then would lay down again. We didn't want him to turn on us and hurt either of us, so after I called my mother (who suggested we try to CAREFULLY get him into the grass) we tried to make up a game plan. In between me sobbing uncontrollably and my boyfriend talking to my mother on the phone (since I no longer could because of said sobbing), a cop pulled up and was very nice and helpful. We told her what happened and she called Animal Control to come get the possum. He was in seriously bad shape, and I knew he was going to die, but being run over (and over and over) was just not an option. The cop said we could go and she promised to sit with the struggling possum until Animal Control came, so we left and I wished the possum love and hoped he had a good life.

I was in pretty bad shape emotionally then, and I still am... All I keep picturing is the possum struggling in the roadway. This morning on the way to work, I drove past the spot and all that was left was the dried up pool of blood. It made me sad again because I know what happened and how his life ended. My boyfriend had another (and better in the imaginary world) explanation. He said that possums play dead, but that modern possums have to be more convincing when they play dead, so they carry around fake blood and guts but he told me that when Animal Control got there, the possum just laughed at them and ran off to play.

Even though I know he's wrong (and maybe a little crazy like me), it is a nicer option to consider than the reality....right?