Tag Archives: fishing

Teach a Man to Fish

Standard
Teach a Man to Fish

What’s that they say? Give a man a fish,  feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish,  feed him for life! Well,  I say it’s more like teach a kid to fish and he’ll steal your boat.

Lately Dyl Pickle has been going fishing.  He’s always loved fishing.  I can see him now,  4 years old standing on a grassy bank, little fishing pole in hand….

Read the rest of this entry

Advertisements

Love is Not Genetic

Standard

For a while my kids were so into Duck Dynasty that we had it saved on our DVR. I didn’t even realize a new season had started until I noticed three episodes were saved, so I turned it on. It’s one thing my husband and I don’t argue about. He doesn’t love my HGTV obsession and I seriously cannot stand watching someone hunt or fish on TV, so Willy and Jase give us a little sliver of neutral ground.

corney creek - easter 1248.JPG

The ZooCrew in Monroe, Louisiana. My grandpa use to say you can pick your friends, you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your friend’s nose… but you can pick the nose of a Robertson.

So, I hit play- as the show ended I realized there were actually two episodes saved together, one was Duck Dynasty and the other was a new spin-off, Expanding the Dynasty, which chronicles the new journey of Jep and Jessica Robertson, as they venture down Adoption Road.

Read the rest of this entry

She’s Already Gone

Standard

The news is going on and on this morning. It’s the first day of hurricane season, and the announcement leaves a numbness in my soul. For us, there is nothing really to prepare for, not anymore.

When I was a kid, I spent many summer weekends in this little cabin my grandpa called his fishing shack. There were 2 cabins really, and a little trailer in the middle. The trailer was Kid Central. It had these 2 twins beds that somehow slept 20. Okay, maybe not 20, but at least 15! The grown-ups would be having poker parties in the cabin, while we had our very own fridge full of sodas in the kid place!

I’ll never forget the year my mom’s friends came down. Their boys were of the “home grown, corn fed” persuasion. Boys, girls, cousins, friends, siblings, we were all piled up in that little trailer when I hear Mark say “damn skeeters!” (In his thick southern draw.)

“Skater? Where?” I’m looking out the window for cute boys on skateboards and he’s slapping mosquitoes on his leg! Ok, so Blondie’s not the only one to have a little “moment”…

Read the rest of this entry