Abby goes fishing again... Finally, fish. Not one, but two!

Lots of fishing going on. Get a load'a this monster!!! Abby and her fishesThe Fishes! The fishing bug bit Abby hard last year. We tried and tried, yet were still happy with any ole thing that would bite on the line. Ugly little Green Lake monsters they were. Yuk! Spring has sprung and it's time to get out the fishing gear plus some new tackle that Santa delivered. Santa does not know too much about fishing, being from the North Pole and all. Nonetheless, we're figuring it out and observing a rock-gut-core crew of regulars on the dock. The answer of the day seemed to be a garlicky, stanky, fluorescent orange goo that's applied liberally to some spongy, rubbery beads on the hook. Who'd a thunk! Did I mention the aura of blind luck. So, anyway, I set Abby up as usual, she mooches some of this stinky gunk, and before I can get my rod put together, she has a fish on. Giddiness ensued. We string it up and she sets her line again. A minute or two later, fish on. We then spent the next two hours, lines in the water, sitting in the sprinkling rain, assessing the dimming light of day, and that it was far too early for dusk, speculating whether it was the peak of the eclipse or just getting more cloudy, before going home to fix a trout dinner. Abby was not so thrilled with the little bones and, though not grossed out, was a little put off by seeing me clean the fish. I think that effected the flavor of expectations. We have always been open about the origin of the things that we eat. Seeing it makes it more real. "So, how do they kill the cows?" was loosely, yet honestly answered. Perhaps there's a video on YouTube, they have everything.