I anticipate lots of work out in the garden for the next few days so I thought I’d give this post, written back in 2011, another airing.


 I have, on several occasions, been invited by my husband to accompany him on his summertime fishing expeditions, ostensibly for company but I think more probably in order to take pictures of that much coveted but most elusive ‘big catch.’  How many times have I sat poised and ready to spring into action with my trusty camera as he relentlessly reeled in fish that, I’ll swear, weren’t even as big as the worm he had so confidently cast in; countless minuscule bluegill and sometimes the same one; a brainless chump that didn’t have enough sense to steer clear of the hook even after it had already been hauled unceremoniously out of the water not two minutes before.  Naturally, the only time my spouse ever caught anything camera-worthy was the time I decided to stay at home and give myself a pedicure and therein seems to lie the story of my…

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