A thunderingly good day
While the world goes to hell, the prissy ‘ban everything’ brigade continually interferes in the lives of ordinary people, politicians build follies based on flawed ideas, agents provocateurs and their proxies burn embassies and threaten others in a kind of proxy warfare (Er, how come they burned the US Embassy when the movie was made by an Egyptian?), what was I doing?
Not much.
I went fishing.
Bugger it, this world gets crazier. News of the insanity delivered by dramatically breathless news anchors in irritatingly jump cut and superficial coverage. Media coverage is increasingly like a sandwich which is all bread and no filling. All emotion and no logic. I hate it for the warped picture of the world it delivers, and don’t watch if I can help it.
Yes, I went fishing. Took some local advice and went to my favourite pile of rocks at the waters edge with a set of small hooks and spinners. Set for another three or four fruitless hours of what I’m often given to describe as ‘casting practice’. While I’m there I watch the Seals, seabirds, Blue Heron, Sea Lions, Otters, Eagles, and occasional Orca. It’s peaceful. I don’t mind not catching anything. You have time to think.
No one bothers a fisherman. An armed mob of headhunters with machetes will ignore a man intent on fishing. Well, they might stop and politely enquire if he’s caught anything yet, but then rampage on. Said putative mob might even pause to watch and cheer if the fisherman caught something while they were watching. Unless it was a mob from a bunch of animal rights hypocrites, in which case the fisherman would be first on the list.
Yesterday the fish were biting. Every cast. Every single, wonderful, mother loving cast. Only young Smallmouth Bass, but they’re spunky little fighters and fun, fun, fun. Caught a few, threw them all back. Ran out of bait with a happy heart for all the sport they gave me. As sunset was colouring the rocks of Link Island a dusky Martian pink I tipped my hat to the Water Gods in thanks and began the mile long scramble back home over logjams and rocks. I had a thundering good day.
Sometimes you have to say “FTW” (Number 3) and have what fun you can.
No I’m not telling you where it is. Because after I’ve been to the store this morning to get some fresh bait and a couple of spinners I will be back there. With a big grin on my face. Up tide and down. Yeah.
Just the wildlife you are able to see where you live is fascinating. We don’t get to see that here unless we go to the zoo. I’m glad you had a great day. You say #3, but that kind of day also sounds like a #1 FTW.
Scoakat, with the greatest of respect; what seems like a lifetime ago I was counted amongst what was (is) known as the ’1%’, and believe me; ‘FTW’ in those circles has only one meaning, and 1,2, and 4 aren’t it. Anyone who tells you different is kidding no-one but themselves. Maybe they work in marketing?
I think those extra definitions were invented by the sort of person who ‘preserves’ old folk songs, and leaves out the original mucky words just in case someone gets ‘offended’. I mean seriously; “Forever two wheels”? It doesn’t even scan. If that was the intent it would be ‘TWF’. That’s the kind of BS handed to cute but innocent girls you hope to corrupt, or the parole officers when they ask you what the big black tattoo stands for.
I’m fully aware of what you meant by FTW, although I did take a quick look at the link. It just sounded to me that you had a very nice day and I simply thought that perhaps #1 was also applicable. I’m not that dense but I’m also not that deep, I only meant well to you.