Fishing The Coast, Oregon and Washington
Jennie's Fishing Life
A journal of my adventures.
February 1st 2002
My car has been in the shop for three days now.
Bill has been in Eastern Oregon hunting chukkars and pheasant.
Suet drips from my feeder in the warmer temperatures. Several chickadees, all at once fly to light on it, and quickly disappear.
The snow melts in sloppy pools in my driveway. On the stairs down to the yard, chunks of ghost snow, now melting ice blobs, threaten to make me fall, if I am not careful.
It's getting dark, but I am following fresh elk tracks in the snow, and I can't seem to stop.
I didn't see elk in the yard here! They were ten feet from the back porch! They must show up more often than I know. How can you weigh 1000 pounds and be sneaky?
Earlier in the day, the snow is melting. Still, my hands freeze as I try to fish. It's only 39 degrees in the canyon.
The boys tell me that as little as one mile down the road, there is but a trace of snow.
"We are the only people with snow!" David tells me, as he gets off the school bus. His friends are envious.
Kilchis barks, wags his tail, and races up the driveway to greet him.
The sun doesn't touch us here in the dead of winter. It hits the hills that surround our home, and sends long shadows stretching across the meadow.
I spend my days filling the wood bin, feeding the fire, watching the rain or the snow. I sit at the kitchen table for long spells, watching Junco, Chickadees and Varied Thrush. My bills need to be paid, but the squawk of a blue jay interrupts me.
The short days of winter seem endless. I make some more coffee.
The bread comes out of the oven.
The roast is almost done. The kids are home.
Feeling a little cooped up, I walk to the river, as far as it will let me.
I have food here at home. I have work. I feel self sustained and happy.
When I get back, Bill's car is in the garage. He's home from his hunt. The phone rings, telling me to come pick up my car.
I look out the window. The last light of day reflects dimly off of the snow.
Bill says he can help me get my car in the morning.
I'm in no hurry.
February 3rd 2002
I really wanted to write on 02/02/02!
I went fishing with Dudley and Bill on the Wilson instead. It's fun to fish this time of year. Imagine this, a Saturday on the Wilson, with only half of a dozen boats out there. Nice!
I caught a big native. That strong chrome native released to the cool green water made a memory I won't forget.
Turned out to be a lovely day on the river. Cold, and finger numbing at first, then warming to a pleasantly warm winter day.
Dudley Nelson is awesome to fish with. I always learn so much. He has promised me a springer trip. After I confessed to never having caught a Willamette Springer, he elbowed Bill as "bad luck out there on the Willamette", and promised to get me into one.
I wish I knew where my other slipper was... "KILCHIS! Where is my slipper?!"
I had so much to write about yesterday, but the coffee isn't seeming to do the job. I can't remember WHAT I was going to write about!
Busy week this week, with the Sportsman Show. I like to stay at Days Inn.
Last year, I had reservations at another motel, but I got lost, and ended up checking the rates here. Ha! Half the price, and they had room! I'll take it! What a good choice! I'll never forget Rose, at the front desk, greeting me by name and asking me several times if I needed anything.... "Jennie!" My middle name is Rose, so I instantly took a liking to her!
Then, later that night I realized I had forgotten some of my make up. I went downstairs to ask where I could go get some and the new girl at the desk said, "Oh! I just got back from "xyz" store, and they had a sale. I bought this and this and this... Want some?"
Can you believe it? She gave me eye liner and some other things! We chatted. I felt at home. I like The Days Inn lots and can't wait to visit with the girls again!
Off to the showers and into my church clothes.
The hatchery letter still is bringing in lots of support. If you haven't signed it, then please CLICK HERE and sign it! Right click on it, save the shortcut, and paste it into e mails to your friends that love the Trask River and help support the volunteers at Tillamook Anglers.
Off to find my slipper.
Oh, by the way, do you know that God gave me an awesome gift in this beautiful creature? I feel blessed. This pup follows my eyes everywhere. He is constantly seeking to know what pleases me. I am lucky. I feel gifted. I love this dog with my entire being. I have never witnessed a pup that seeks to please like this. He has an attention span that is unbelievable for this age.
Hand signals are obeyed immediately.
Where is that beautiful mutt?
February 4th 2002
I seldom read what is on the Marfan list that I subscribed to
four years ago.
I found that it made me concentrate about my health concerns too much.
It depressed me to communicate with people that were affected by Marfan Syndrome, and then worry when they had an aortic dissection, follow them through their surgeries, and even watch some close e mail acquaintances pass on.
For some strange reason, as I was doing my daily deletions of marfan-list mail, (without so much as reading them) one of them caught my eye.
It was an address of one of our members hospital rooms. He had had another aortic dissection.
I paused for a very long time. I knew I had to write to him, and then all kinds of ideas came to mind. Post it on the ifish board and get tons of people to write to him? Send flowers? What? I had to respond! I really liked Chris, from what I had read of him. Boundless energy, an example to all. Funny! Witty!
He had left an impression on me, this faceless man that I had read about, and communicated with on the internet. He had the wit that comes with facing grave health concerns, tough issues. I could relate to his "what the heck, life is short" attitude.
I sat longer, staring at this e mail, while I was lost in thought. I wanted to send him a deluge of happy mail.
Thoughtlessly, later, I hit delete on the E mail that contained Chris's address. I got busy, and got on with my business of running ifish.net, cooking dinner, making fishing plans, and running kids to school.
Two days later, deleting yet more marfan mail, the word Chris caught my eye. The word Chris, followed by grave news.
It's not too late yet, to send a Get Well card to Chris. But it might not get there in time.
Last I heard:
"Chris is fading, but he's so much younger and basically stronger than most people in the cardiac ICU that he's still lucid more than 24 hours after they told us he would die. He is very, very tired, though, and sleeps more and more. We never quite know when the next time he goes to sleep will be the last."
His days seem numbered, yet Chris displays an amazing amount of humor.
His dad told him yesterday that he's proud of him for being so strong and Chris mouthed the words "get over it." The family roared.
It's so typical of him.
The question arises, amongst all Marfan list members... We are taking care of ourselves, we are being monitored, yet things like this happen... to Chris, to our friends, to numerous people... Why? Why even Marfan Syndrome?
More from Chris' family:
Two nights ago, Emerson T. Cat (the middle initial is for "The") paid a pastoral call at the ICU and slept for an hour on Chris's bed. Chris's heart beat and blood pressure both slowed down when Em showed up and he fell asleep smiling. Em has been plenty weirded out himself for the last 8 weeks, running around looking for his buddy, and we could tell they were glad to see each other. We love these nurses anyway, but I nominated them for sainthood the night we found out they're the ones who forced the hospital to adopt a pet policy. They were so constantly sneaking people's pets in to see them that the hospital finally gave in and made a policy. Thank God.
A second cool-nurse story:
His NJ buddies were in the room yesterday and we were talking about when they all used to brew beer, and one of our favorite nurses Toni said, Chris likes beer? Why don't you bring some in for the super bowl. It was a hoot tonight. He didn't actually want too much of it because I think his taste buds have been all screwed up by the drugs (he actually asked me for lemonade instead!), but he had a brewski for the Super Bowl. He's giving the Patriots a thumbs up in between naps and, while it's not the most festive Super Bowl party we've had, at least we're having one. Actually the party's pretty much over, because Chris is asleep again.
I do O.K. I handle things. I put things away in the closet, and laugh. I go fishing instead of going thinking.
But sometimes things hit harder than the liveliest wild steelhead.
I know why Andrew doesn't care much about school, or grades, or life goals. He knows too much about Marfan Syndrome. I know too much about it also.
But you know, it's like life. Life isn't fair.
Someone once told me, "Yeah, but you could get run over by a truck too!"
Yes I could. But it's just a bit different when you can read the license plate of the truck coming at you.
To meet Chris, to see almost to the tee, what Andrew and I feel about life, to view our mirror of his reactions and feelings about life, to see what it is like to have an aortic dissection, (which we have yet to experience) please click here.
Please keep Chris and his family in your prayers.
I can't help but look at Andrew and cry this morning. He looks at me, puzzled. Big alligator teardrops fall down my cheeks.
Why didn't I write to Chris?
Do I share this with Andrew, or hide it from him? Does he know too much or too little?
Andrew, 14 years of age. All 6 foot 3 of him. Andrew, 6 foot 3, size 17 foot, and OHHH so marfan like. Andrew, born legally blind, and now sees. What does he see?
There are 6 dirty glasses in his room, and he may be flunking spanish.
I don't care. I don't care a darn bit.
Please act on your kind intentions. My intentions were good, and kind... But I am too late.
I am going to spend the day with my kids.
February 5th 2002
I'm sure I'll get out of this funk soon. Perhaps the Sportsman
Show will do it. But this story of Chris's battle with Marfan syndrome is consuming
I've been looking at my calendar, dotted doctor appointments almost every other day... "Oh give me a doctor a day, dear. Give me a doctor a day..." Isn't that supposed to be daisy?
I thought I'd give an update. I'll be back to cheery soon, I'm sure.
Thanks so much to all of you for loving
Christopher. You have given us a
tremendous gift in the last few days by letting us know how well he has
also loved you. It is a comfort to me to write about him to you.
Yesterday Chris had a most amazing rally of strength and energy and we had
a lot of fun with him, but this morning he is sleepy again. We are meeting
with the critical care team this afternoon to hear their latest
thinking. The original prognosis we got on Thursday was 48 to 72 hours,
and he's obviously a heck of a lot stronger than the surgeon thought then.
Here are a few of the things you asked; I'm happy to talk about him. Chris
is 33. He grew up in Michigan, Texas, and New Jersey, got an BFA in
computer-assisted graphics and photography from Ramapo State College (after
a hilarious sightseeing trip through a few other institutions of higher
education), and moved to Portland, Oregon, where the hiking and
beer-drinking were the best to be had. He has always loved computers, so
he got a job at Kinkos and worked his way up the management ladder--taking
out time to have an aortic dissection in 1997--and then moved to Maui with
Kinkos. Paradise is actually a horrible place to live, rather than
vacation, so when Pete and I moved from NJ to Atlanta in 1998 Chris moved
here with us. He works for Xerox, running the Document Center for the Bank
of America. Last year he did an intensive high-tech second bachelors
degree at DeVry Institute to get IT certification (he graduated summa cum
laude a month before his surgery).
He asked Santa for pots and pans and dishes for Christmas so he could (as
he put it so poetically) get the hell out of Dodge and set up housekeeping
again once this surgery was over.
This is his second aortic repair and replacement surgery. The first was
two years ago. Robert Guyton was the surgeon on both and he's supposed to
be one of the best. We've been pretty impressed, and Chris says Guyton
knows almost as much about Marfan as he does. The reason this surgery got
so big is that they had to combine this one with the one
that was supposed to be in two more years, the abdominal one. He had an
angiogram right before his surgery that showed too much deterioration, so
they had to call in Dr. Smith, the abdominal vascular surgeon. I guess
he's famous, too, but we don't know much about him.
The operation took a long time (13 hours) because they had to get rid of
all the scar tissue from the 1997 dissection. It went really well, though,
and they were pleased, even though they had pumped Chris so full of fluid
while he was on the heart bypass machine that they couldn't close up his
belly. A week later, after being covered with the surgical equivalent of
Saran Wrap and looking a lot like a pregnant woman, he went back to the OR
and they closed him up.
In the next few days, though, he developed what the doctors eventually
named pancreatitis. He had horrible fevers and nothing ever came back from
the culturing to identify its source. The surgery was so complicated they
just bumped around inside Chris and the trauma to his pancreas caused an
abcess. He really was hanging in there, and everybody thought about Jan 20
that he had finally turned the corner and was going to survive
(pancreatitis isn't something that responds to medical intervention) when
his kidneys started to fail.
His kidneys weren't really what was wrong, though. He was having another
dissection, this time of the ascending aorta, and a flap of it has blocked
blood to his heart muscle. They can't fix it because there's too much
damage to his heart, there aren't enough strong vessels around his heart to
hook a donor heart to, and they can't hook his heart to a machine because
they say any surgical intervention would be homicide.
He is (more or less) comfortable, not in a lot of pain, and they tell us he
will go to sleep and into a coma before the potassium will build up enough
to stop his heart.
Chris's web site has something
he wrote about four years ago. That's a much more cynical Chris than he is
now. I told him yesterday that that stuff about food for worms was a lie
and he nodded at me. He knows it's not true. We rest on the promises of
God and are thankful for the comfort of friends like you.
February 6th 2002
The fire is just simmering. I want a big, whole, blazing fire,
but it just... spits! This is the calm before the fire storm!
I'll get this fire raging!! Soon it will be warm and radiant, and I won't be sitting here shivering anymore!
Kilchis is snuggled up close to it. His fur is sopping wet, after wading too deeply across a riffle. He learned how to swim today, by accident! That riffle was 3 feet deep! :)
The clouds darken and threaten rain. I have been waiting all morning to take down the bird feeders for the approaching storm.
"Winds to 65 at the headlands!" Bill loves to joke about that. "Hedlund" being his house, his name sake, and all.
All morning, we played storm. You know, build the fire, have pancakes, do the laundry. Don't even think of outside.
By noon, however, I was anxious, bored. Nibbling on the last piece of bacon, I tracked the flock of birds. The chickadees were out in force, enjoying the suet. A varied thrush or two came to the porch to pick up some scattered seed. The junco were everywhere!
This is NOT the storm. Falling barometer or not, I'm going fishing. I have to get out of this house!
And that I did.
Pulling on my hip waders, I snuggled up in a down vest and rain overcoat, grabbed my rod and bag, and walked the distance of half of a football field to my favorite hole.
The sky randomly spat single rain drops in no particular rhythm.
First I decided to run a jig through the upper riffle. The water was lower and clearer than a couple days ago, and that surprised me.
Between Kilchis trying to play fetch with the pretty pink feathers or chasing after that tasty natural cork, and the uninterrupted drift down the river, I decided to change to drift fishing.
I still had a pink clown corky on my rig from fishing the Wilson three or four days back. After checking my line for cuts or abrasions, I opted to just leave it on, and give it a try. It wouldn't have been my first choice, but I was feeling lazy.
I tossed it out to the rock on the far side of the river.
I felt the bump of familiar rocks that summer exposes on the river.
Rocks that Andrew and David and I all swam out to, sat upon, and jumped off of. These rocks, now hidden from me, hide steelhead behind them. The thought caught my interest and then faded.
At the end of my cast, I mindlessly threw it out again. The air was deadly calm and oddly warm. My mind wandered back to summer. Long days, where a light breeze pushes the only waves that move the water on the Kilchis river in August.
But late August it is not!
My rod pulsed with the electricity that only a live fish could produce! Down went my rod, and all thoughts of summer, of calm days, of stagnant air, blew up in a wind storm of winter!
I had a fish on, and this hen wanted to fight about it!
My mind raced. It's probably native, this time of year, and my... my... pliers, of course... are way... back... there in that bag! I glanced over my shoulder at the 30 feet I needed to back travel to retrieve my release grips.
I knew I had to get this hen in and back to freedom as soon as possible.
I slowly backed the rod, pulling on the hen, ever so slightly, backwards to my bag. I had to find the pliers that would free the fish. I tripped a bit, but smoothly extracted my Holdzit Tool Holder out of my bag, and slid my pliers into my pocket.
Off to shore, with an excited 4 month old pup at my heels, jumping up and down, as if to say, "What's that, Mom? What? Let's get him, Mom!"
I released a beautiful chrome hen, checked my hook for sharpness, and just for the heck of it, threw to the end of my previous drift.
BANG! Bites so aggressive on this day, that there was no question it was a fish!
There are times that I am not sure, and have to lift the rod to feel for life. There was no question on either bite today!
This was a native buck, probably her travel partner. Although I didn't land him, he was close enough to be netted, had I had one, so I called it a success.
I made so much noise out there on the river, that Bill, dressed in his city clothes and ready to drive to town, was now called to my side, G Loomis in hand.
Before long, Bill had one too!
He had cast just where I had hooked my fish, and caught it a bit downstream from there. They were just lined up on the other side waiting for us!
Bill, not wanting to get his city shoes all wet, had me wade out to unhook this beautiful 8 pound hen.
Fish don't bite when the barometer dips, eh?
I sit here now, feeling the warmth of the fire, that is finally breathing heavily, pumping out enough heat that Kilchis is forced to move.
I braced against the wind to bring in the bird feeders. I worry that they will be hungry while they are down, so I scatter some seed under the porch, where they hide.
As I gaze silently through my window, I see a mosaic of the blurred shades changing seasons. The colors wash sideways in the rain, and in the wind. Tiny maroon leaves pop out of the alder tree tops, promising spring against the dark green winter of the fir trees.
Guess I'll go pack. Tomorrow I leave for the Sportsmen's Show. (I mean Sportswomen's Show)
I'll sure miss my pup. :(
Two feisty steelies, the raging of the wind, and an oncoming schedule full of activity!
Now ends all calm before the storm.
Let her blow! I'm ready to sail, mate!
February 11th 2002
Wow! This must be the longest I have gone without writing!
I had a great week at the Pacific Northwest Sportsmen's Show. Busy, but great!
Dennis Stewart of Salmon Master Guide Service is really fun to be with. Man, that guy has a following and can he ever book trips! I learned a lot from just listening to Dennis talking to other fishermen! It was great!
I didn't even get to see much of the show. We both carried cell phones. I'd say, "I'm going to go get a hot dog, latte, etc.... Call me if you need me."
I'd get right up to the coke stand, ready with my money, and my cell phone would go off!
"Someone is here to see you, Jen!" Back to the booth I'd go..
It got to be really funny near mid show. Every time an ifisher would stop by, he'd mutter...
"It's a cult".
Then the people in the booth next door would chime in...
"More cult members..."
It didn't help when the good guys from TH Rods stopped by with a beautiful new fly rod for me. On it, is engraved, "The Ifish Queen". ARGH!
I so very much wanted to head for the kids trout ponds and give it a go. It was really crowded around those ponds, but what a challenge to stand behind them and double haul into that fish frenzied feeding area!!!
Ifish? A cult?
Well, it's not! It's a group of fishermen and women that like to talk, talk, and talk! To jab, to tease, to discuss, to brag!!! JOIN US! :)
I so wish I would have taken my camera. My memory fails me. Every time a member with a familiar moniker walked up, I would have snapped his picture and written down their name and moniker.
I could have made a directory! When they post, I could say... Ah! That is....This one!!! :)
My blasted eye sight! That's it! I'm going to call the surgeon today. I wrote an e mail to my doc explaining my questions and worries. The main thing I said was, "Dear Doc, if this surgery was for your sister, or your Mother... would you recommend having it done?"
No answer. So... either he is busy or doesn't want to say.
He is really busy. I have waited for three hours in his waiting room for a visit in the recent past. Once I complained. He said, "Go someplace else!" (He is quite blunt).
I said I couldn't.
He asked why.
"Because you are the best!"
And he is... He told me to encourage other medical students to go into his specialty. There are just not many Doctors who do what he does. I mean, how many doctors do you know that would take the time to (weekly) drop acid in my eye to heal a bleb that wasn't supposed to be there? (ish!) It was an awful experience, but heck, he is my HERO!
I love this! Take a peek into some sick Marfan Humor. I can more than relate!
Back to the show, and why I need my eyes fixed...
I can't recognize anyone! I met Linda, of Gene and Linda from Tackle Time in the lounge for a coke.
Up walked.... someone to ask me a favor.
They called me by name. "Sure!" I replied, "but, what is your name?"
"You don't remember me, do you?" He replied.
"I'm Steve Hanson". He said.
"Oh! Quick!" I joked, "Lean over here so I can give you a kiss!"
It wasn't Steve and I knew it. He finally gave in. Nick Amato. I fished with him once-- and I couldn't recognize him? Duh!
Hey! Nick is handsome! I'll remember now! :)
Tiring... The show is very tiring. I always left an hour before closing, just because I wimped out.
One night, I got home so tired and hungry that I couldn't do the walk from the hotel to Burger King. I just couldn't. Oh! How I wish I would have!
Instead, I dialed Pizza Hut for room delivery.
The night before I had a super healthy Wendy's Single with Cheese with Everything and a Frosty. I couldn't finish the Frosty, so I slid it into the fridge, without a lid.
"Pizza hut! Can I help you?" The happy voice rang over the other end.
"How much is a medium veggie pizza?" I inquired, thinking I was quite health oriented.
"16.99, but for one more dollar, I can give you Two Large Pizzas, and an order of breadsticks!"
What a deal... NOT!
I was so tired, and even though the thought of that much money for pizza horrified me, I said sure.
Exhaustion altered my thinking.
It was nearing 10 P.M., and I was ready to crash. The pizza would be here within the hour. I dozed on the bed, my stomach growling.
By the time the pizza got there, with delivery charges, I paid over 20.00 for two pizzas and breadsticks. What? What AM I going to do with all this pizza? I decided I would save it for the boys.
I sleepily munched on one piece of the extra pepperoni, (Be gone with the healthy idea!) and one piece of the veggie. Splayed out on the bed, with three boxes of greasy pizza, and I was full!
I opened the fridge and attempted to slide the pizza boxes in. I totally forgot about the half full chocolate milkshake on the top shelf.
UGH! All over the place! Milky chocolate n the shelves, on the floor, on the pizza boxes!
For less than four dollars, I could have walked to Burger King and been done with dinner in no time.
I'm glad to be home. My pup Kilchis had the major wiggles for me. He sung to me the sweetest greeting when I opened my car door! He's still wiggling now. I have one slipper on, one slipper off, just the way he likes it.
The boys welcomed their pizza, two days old, decorated with melted chocolate milk shake, and stuffed into Burger King sacks for the ride home. (Yuck! I'll never eat pizza again!)
I met some great people at the show, made some good contacts. All in all, it was a great success. I sold over 50 hats! :) Ifishers were taking them to get them embroidered with their flotilla teams on the back side.
Example: "Team Sneakin Out!" Funny! It looked great though!
Note: Most people like the sand/black colored hats. You can still order them online, or come pick one up when you fish the local streams! E mail us if you want!
As I shuffled through 4 days of e mail, and started to pile into the work, I glanced outside.
Hey, wait a minute... The river is beautiful! The color, unmatchable! The weather? Well.... not so delightful!
But-- Away with this work!
I called for the dogs and layered myself with rain gear. I grabbed my drift rod and headed out to the river.
It was pouring down rain, and 41 degrees. I didn't last long. Twelve casts and 10 freezing fingers later, I was heading in.
But I'm home.
I had an absolutely wonderful time at the show.
However, home... is where the fish are.
Now... to work.
(Dang, but that river is enticing this morning...)
In fact... it's perfect...
I'll be right back... Just one cast...
I'll call the surgeon... later.
Kilchis! Let's go fishin! :)
February 12th 2002
That's my slipper, Kilchis!
Off to do taxes... UGH!
February 14th 2002
Happy Valentines Day!
What's Valentines without a bird feeder full of Hershey Kisses?
I will be the bird who eats the kisses, but it's fun to get a new feeder for
Actually, I love to fill my pockets with the Kisses and give them out throughout the day to unsuspecting Valentines. You know, bank tellers, gas station attendants, store clerks.
My abs favorite thing to do is give them to people who have been grouchy to me. Kill them with kindness... or kill them with Kisses! :)
I got a new feeder that holds suet. It forces the chickadees to eat upside down. We have so many chestnut and black capped chickadees this year! Usually they are so frightened to be near us that they just grab one bite and go. This year they are so at home that they stay and perform acrobats for us! It's so fun!
Real Estate? Do I own any? Yes! I have 14 houses! Bird houses, that is!
I also bought a red cedar feeder for the song sparrows, juncos and some other tiny little dark olive colored bird that we have yet to identify. It's bothering both Bill and I that we can't figure it out. It's smaller than a chickadee, sort of roundish. The mystery guest. Anyone?
Since I arrived home from the Sportsman's Show, I have been ultra behind and stressed out.
You would think that after being away from my family for four days I would be refreshed, and welcome them. Well, I do!
But I also long for a long stretch of day to myself. I want to be bored. I want to wander around the house wondering what to do.
When I shared this with Bill, he said, "I don't ever remember you being bored". Well, I remember! And I want to remember even more clearly!
On Monday, I started to dig into my work, counting hat money, trying to figure out how many I sold, how many I still have. Then onto computer back work.... then, the power went out.
What can I do, I thought? I hate it when the power goes out, and you know you can't continue whatever you were doing with electricity. So, you rationally think... "I'll just do laundry!" Yeah, right! Or... "The coffee maker isn't keeping the coffee warm... I'll just microwave it!"
After several misguided thoughts like this, I finally looked at Bill, and Bill looked at me. We both knew. The only thing we could do is go fishing. Darn! So out with the drift boat. (Nope, doesn't need a plug in!) I glanced at the car suspiciously. Will it work without electricity? :) YES! I shuttled us down to the 10l takeout, and we set sail from the house.
Fishing all day! Yes! As we launched, I didn't dare look back at the house to see if the power was restored!
A beautiful sunny day. Not many fish, but it was SO good for a
change from the hurry-scurry of the Show, and the subsequent hurry-scurry of
catching up on things. I felt guilty... It's too beautiful out here... I should
We drifted, pulled plugs a bit, stopped at different beaches and looked at animal tracks. Bobcat, raccoon, seagull... I love the Kilchis river. It has the most beautiful deep green/blue hue to it right now. Not another boat in sight. Ahhhhhhhh...
Bill hooked into two nice steelies. My rods stayed silent all day. Somehow that didn't matter. I liked silent.
We checked the lower hole for the trampoline, and I'm afraid to say, the last high water pretty much did it in. If anyone has a used trampoline for sale, the boys are in the market.
I'm also looking forward to a spring river clean up. We saw several twisted pieces of metal, that look vaguely familiar. The strength of the water is amazing. It spread my metal mess quite a ways.
Why is April fools so close to tax day?
I thought I had my taxes all in order. Tuesday I traveled to see my tax person in Warrenton. I wanted to have everything on the up and up. I felt so organized. I thought she would be proud. Not. What can I deduct? How does bartering work? What about my contests?
She sent me home with a stack of forms. Oh boy! Maybe next year I'll just lie! "Nope! Didn't barter! Didn't contest! Didn't even work! Nope!" I also didn't sell decals so I don't have inventory, right? :)
So, yesterday, as I was digging into my taxes, Bev and Dot stopped by. They wanted to fish out back.
The temptation to join them was strong. I watched Bill, Bev and Dot, drag their folding chairs, coffee cups, and rods down to the river side. Kilchis raced along side them.
Bright sunshine teased me, as it streamed through the window and landed on my mass of papers.
Laughter echoed from the riverside and taunted me as I worked.
I sat at that table, calculator, pencils, and graph paper at the ready.
I filled out forms.
I had an hour before I had to pick up the boys, for round two of 'the busies'!
At 1:30 P.M., I got out of my pajamas, got in the shower, and raced down to the river beach.
Bill had my rig all set up and ready to go. He even cast out my rig for me! :)
Plunking! I had never plunked here before. I even had a bell on my rod! We drank coffee, laughed, talked... It was great fun!
My rod even went off!
"It's a cutt..." I thought. NOPE!
It WAS a steelie! I lost it, but hey! My rod wiggled! That was good enough fun for me, and guess what?
I'm going back out there today.
Plunking! How boring!
I just got a dozen red roses from Bill!! And a card that says this:
Who has a big smile for the people she meets?
Who is sweeter than sugar and Valentine Treats?
Who makes the day brighter and happier, too?
If you haven't guessed it, I'll tell you,
Have a happy Valentines Day, you guys! You make ME smile! :)
February 15th 2002
Off to the doc. I won't be able to answer e mails for a bit this
I DID call my eye surgeon. Darn! He's out of town! :)
February 16th 2002
What really happened to the hatchery fish? They are gone!
Spring fever: Synonymous with the season of the Native Steelhead. I know it is. I have felt it, seen it. As I walk outside, it all comes together for me. Birds sing in the trees like I haven't heard since last spring.
Memories come flooding back.
As the rivers clear, and we are teased by this week of beautiful weather, it is apparent.
The hatchery season is nearly over. Did I fish enough this year? It doesn't seem like it! I don't remember being miserable enough! I don't remember enough ice freezing on my line, or enough soaking and miserable days in the drift boat, or enough warm truck rides home! I don't remember enough Mr. Heater flare ups, or melted rain pants!
The North Fork Nehalem hatchery still has a few trickling hatchery fish coming in. The Three Rivers/Nestucca fish, that the Kilchis is planted with, are nearly over.
Bill fished nearly every day last week. I joined him, starting on Friday. Out of ten fish hooked, we had only 3 downstreamers. The rest, chrome bright nates. (And of those, we didn't land but a few!)
Bev, Dot and I had fun, two days in a row. We sipped coffee while plunking out back, with the tiniest of spin glos and eggs. I had one take down. We had lots of food! :)
I watch native steelhead like a cat watches birds through the window.
It's intoxicating to gaze over the side at the Curl Road bridge.
Schools of native fish fin there. At the right time of day, even with my eyesight, you can see every fin, every marking on these nervous wild fish.
They are waiting here. Waiting, for the water to go up, or for nightfall. Then they shoot upriver, under brush, under cover to fulfill their biological impertative and begin a new cycle of life.
The Curl Road bridge on The Kilchis River is monitored quite heavily by the Farmers who own the bridge. Large signs reading, "No Trespassing" are actually enforced.
The fish seem to know that. They are protected from all but the drift boats that have been pushed over rocks to reach this spot in these low clear conditions.
By watching these steelies, you can sense their nerves. They are unsettled, trapped by the lack of water.
I had an extra box of shrimp in my car. I tossed them one, just to see what would happen. It floated by, without a hint of interest. A cutt darted out behind them, from the underbrush to take advantage of my offering.
Their varied sizes are apparent, as they dart back and fourth in order. One of them turns a bit sideways, and I can see the blush of rose on their cheeks, a hint of their rainbow ancestry.
It's tough to convince myself on a day like today that I shouldn't fish.
It's tough to admit that I know. There are no hatchery fish left, to be taken.
The craving to hook one of these native, beautiful fish is strong.
To dance along the river's edge, watching silver erupt out of the river like metal thrown into a blender.
To mimic a hen's rage, her desire to win, to spawn, to continue upriver. My rod arching, my heart pounding, my feet tripping over rocks as I try to run, reeling like mad, to even out any slack in my line.
It's too much for me to resist!
Come to think of it, there still might be a few hatchery fish in the Kilchis river.
Perhaps I should just go see, just to make sure.
February 18th 2002
Dee Dee, our big black lab, is ten, and showing her age. She moves
slowly. After a good work out, she often can't make it up the stairs to come
up to bed.
It breaks our hearts.
She goes absolutely nuts when you say the word, "ducks".
She pushes through her age to jump into the water effortlessly to retrieve. She certainly shows the pain after the hunting trip, though.
The joy!! How labs love to hunt, to retrieve, to swim!
Yesterday morning, I traveled to Astoria to play for church.
When I got home, there were stacks of bills, taxes, and paper work to do.
The dogs were incessant with their pleading to play.
"Mom is home! Let's go!"
I bought some time by offering them chew toys and an extra meal. I let both of my slippers go to their cause of boredom, but finally, I couldn't take it anymore!
I closed my books with a sigh, promising to get back to them soon.
"All right! Let's go fishing!"
I wasn't happy! I had work to do!
I couldn't help but catch their enthusiasm, though.
I have never witnessed tails waggling and furry bodies wiggling any more than I did after that statement. From the mass of happiness, I didn't know whether I had two dogs or ten!
"Woo woo woo woooo!" Dee Dee spoke to me.
Dogs bark, but it really touches me when they talk. Kilchis is extremely vocal. I have him trained now, to say, "Maaaamaaaaaa". He does it quite well, especially when the word "fishing" "dinner" or "treat" is introduced.
"The water is too low" Bill grumbled. "I'm staying inside by the fire".
That isn't the point. I had no idea how much I needed the river yesterday. I needed the outdoors, and so did the dogs!
Dogs know best. I am convinced.
I grabbed my rod. At the river's edge, I carelessly flipped out a spin glo, and set it in a holder.
The sky was gray. A misty rain fell making the air clean, fresh, and inviting.
Plunking. For what? I didn't care! Paper work? What paper work? :)
The dogs raced up and down the river. Kilchis stopped to dig a hole, barking at a pretend rat.
The sound of the river filled my ears and put me at peace.
I sat on my plunking bucket for a short while. I stared at my silent rod, pulsing ever so slightly in the weak current.
"Stick!" I shouted at the dogs! Get me a stick!
Dee Dee knows the stick word. Sticks don't much look or act like ducks, but Dee Dee loves to play stick!
It was time to teach Kilchis how to retrieve in the water.
It's a challenge, this time of year, to find sticks that float! After numerous sinkers, we finally got one.
I threw it in the water, right where my line entered the water! Dee Dee, ran, jumped in the water with all fours to retrieve.
Good bye fish!! Who cares??? :)
Kilchis watched in amazement. Dee Dee is going in the water?
Kilchis has experienced swimming, but quite by accident. He once tried to follow me while wading. "Whoops! That was deep, huh, Kilch?"
Springers don't usually prefer the water, but labs love it. Being a splab, (A mutt mix of springer and Labrador) I was curious to find out which behavior he would adopt.
Kilchis couldn't stand it. Dee, Dee, in four feet of water, was coming back with the stick.
Kilchis went in to greet him! "Good Kilchis! Good dog!"
Next time, I threw one stick for Dee Dee. In with a splash she went! Then, one for Kilchis, just a wee bit out in the depths. He went for it!
Before I knew it, I was throwing sticks for both dogs. The water was a churning, mass of wet dog, and certainly not conducive to fishing!
We were all giggling and laughing. (Yes, dogs do laugh!)
We played stick until the light got dim.
"Dinner"? Anyone interested in dinner?
Here goes the "Mamaaaaaa" and Woo woo woo woo woo..."
Inside, the warm fire greeted us. The dogs downed their dinner in two gulps.
Kilchis jumped up on the couch, and I covered him with Bill's favorite wool blanket. (Sorry Bill, this is my new baby) He fell fast asleep.
Dee Dee curled up under my desk.
I could finally work.
Dee Dee barely made it up the stairs last night to make it to bed.
Slowly, step by step, he limped up the stairs, hobbling on three legs, favoring one. It has happened, that Bill had to use the fire log sling, wrapped under Dee Dee's body, to help her up the stairs.
I know what is coming. I have been through it, too many times.
Hang in there, Dee Dee. I know you hurt.
There are just to many ducks, and sticks, and good times to let go yet. Besides, you have much to teach Kilchis, before he joins Bill on a hunt.
Please, Dee Dee?
We love you.
February 20th 2002
The phone rang and interrupted my thoughts. I answered and came
to a sudden brain fail.
"There is no one here by that name."
Or... a recording...
"I'm sorry, Jennie is unavailable. She is vacationing in Belize... and won't be back, ever."
It was my eye surgeon, and all of the sudden, every question that I had prepared for him totally escaped me. All I could say was, "Dr. Robertson, I'm scared!"
It was such an intrusive call. I was expecting it, somewhere in the back of my brain. See, I did call my surgeon last week. He was just out of town. I left a message thinking that he'd never get back to me. Thinking, hey, I tried!
Even the ring of the phone sounded different.
Finally, I regained my composure.
"If this were your Aunt, or your Mother, would you perform this surgery on them?" That's not a fair question, I know, but it came out anyway.
O.K., darn! If he had stuttered, or paused even a moment to think, I had a way out.
But, he just said, "Yip!"
I'm going to have the eye surgery.
I spent the day getting the ball rolling. Pre op appointments, cardiology exams, blood tests, hotel accommodations, rides to and from...
I was shocked at just how it affected me. Tears! I cried! I cried because I like my real eye, even if it doesn't work!
Even though, I see little out of my left eye, it still gives me depth perception that I will no longer have once I get my new eye.
Ugh. I think how long it will take my brain to learn to use it... Blah blah blah... and then there are many, "what ifs?"
I feel more optimistic today. I'm just going to file my worries, and get on with it. One step in front of the other.
I need to have a responsible adult with me, so I chose David, my 14 year old son. Last eye surgery I had, I got Andrew to go with me. This time it's David's turn.
Andrew and I really had fun, post op, last time. We walked downtown, had races up the US Bank Tower buildings elevators, ate hot rice and spicy chicken at the Fountain park across from the Civic. We rode Max until Max came to the end of the tracks.
All this with a wire cage and bandages over one eye. The doctor would have absolutely had a fit. I was supposed to be down. I wasn't down at all. :)
I am a crummy patient.
I plan to do the same this time, and if you tell on me, I'm not going to go through with the surgery, so there!
Perhaps this time we'll go to Oaks Park and have a whirl on their roller coaster, who knows? I have to have something to look forward to, you know? (O.K., I'm kidding.)
The water here is low and clear. Bill left to fish with Captain Joe Schwab on the Columbia. I'll get my first Springer sooner or later. Book a trip with Joe! He's done his homework, and he is zeroing in on an attack!
For now, for me, it's work and a touch of worry.
It's a beautiful day today. The storm will hit tonight.
The birds are out in full force. We had some kind of a warbler here yesterday. I'll have to check my books to make certain, just what it was.
Kilchis is anxious to take our river break, so back to work I go, and then out to the river, to throw sticks, to sit on my plunking bucket, to look around me in amazement. Dee Dee is doing much better, as I exercise her every day.
We really do live in a beautiful world, and I really do want to see it to the best of my ability.
March 20th. Yikes.
February 22nd 2002
Occasionally, I set my work schedule by the weather. I certainly
did that, after glancing at the hydro
chart. (The Hydro chart seems to be down this morning).
Anyway, the day before yesterday it was forecast to pour down 2 to 5 inches yesterday.
I got out of bed, and didn't bother to get dressed. I knew the doom of the weather forecast. I took David to school, dressed in my pajamas, slippers, and Mustad fleece. No one will know, right?
Home to get back to work... in my pajamas... It's going to rain all day, right? No rain in sight yet, but it's really dark out there. It's an inside day, a day to work on the web, to clean house, etc.
After several attempts at doing so, Kilchis finally diverted my attention with a sharp Frisbee to the knee.
"All right, Kilchis, let's go fetch."
Outside, it was warm, tropical, and still. The calm before the storm.
I threw the Frisbee, over, and over, and... over there! Look, Kilchis! The river is gorgeous!
"Over there", ran a river, with the color of the deepest steelhead green. The current had picked up. The levels were perfect!
I couldn't stand it. It wasn't raining... yet. Maybe I had time.
Quick! Drop everything! I don't have time to take a shower and get dressed! It's going to rain, and blow, and storm, really soon!
Ever fished in your pajamas?
The Frisbee lay in the yard.
I hurried to the garage, filled my pockets with slinkies and my chest pocket with corkies. I grabbed a pair of pliers. Nothing else. It was the fishing minimum. Give me that rod! I stretched to the highest shelf.
I padded out to the river in my fleece slippers and fished. I tried to hide every time a car passed high over the other side of the river.
(No, that wasn't a girl fishing in her pajamas out there. No, it wasn't.)
It wasn't long before the wind started to puff. Uh oh! Here it is. The storm. I had better get in.
So I did.
And I waited and worked. I waited, and worked some more. I glanced out at the threatening skies. Any minute now... I continued to bang the keys.
Two hours later, I was sure that the storm would hit just anytime...
I banged the keys harder.
No storm. No rain. No wind.
Do you realize how many fish I missed yesterday?
No wonder the hydro chart page is down.
I'm not happy, hydro chart. I am not happy at all.
Many steelhead went unteased yesterday. Many clients got their work done, and they have been billed in full.
They have been billed for the work I did, AND the steelhead I missed. (How much do you charge for that?)
So, clients, when you get your bill, note that the extra charges are for the steelhead I missed. Nothing personal, but someone's got to pay.
I'm billing the hydro chart people next.
February 24th 2002
Had a fabulous Birthday!
Got a fabulous package in the mail three days ago! A carving of a fish, and one of a humming bird. They are so gorgeous. Thank you to Ken Gudeman!! I love them so much! A picture is located here.
Then, I got a really neat present of bath bubbles, chocolates, coffee, and lures the next day!
Roast Beef, mashed potatoes, carrots, beans, rolls, and cake on my Birthday!! Thank you to Bev and Dot for the wonderful meal! They cooked it all! We fished a bit, ate a lot, and had mystery guests show up! (Dennis and Marie, of Tillamook Bait!) You know, Birthdays are meant to last for a full week or more. I juice em for all they are worth!
Today, someone is kidnapping to take me somewhere after church.
My Dad still hasn't called, so that's yet to come. Who said belated is bad? It stretches it out!
Every day for a week or more, I have things to look forward to!
Tuesday, my sisters are taking me out to lunch at The Chart House.
My kids gave me nothing. Not a card, nothing! That's typical teen, right? It's not supposed to hurt my feelings.
At least Birthdays last a week. Andrew and David, you still have time!
Off to work...
February 25th 2002
Yikes! 2 hours till I have an interview with a writer from the magazine American Profile... What do I wear???
February 25th 2002 later...
That was fun! Nice lady to talk to... I kept thinking, what do I wear? Neoprenes or breathables? I finally ditched that whole idea, and wore jeans. :) I always get so nervous for interviews. She asked tough questions... I gave her tough answers!
The story of Chris
I have been following closely the unfolding story of my friend
Chris. It sounds like he is letting go. He has Marfan Syndrome.
Beth has shared some wonderfully touching, and often humorous moments in these troubling days.
I just have to share with you a story that she has just posted to the mail list, concerning a visit she recently had with Chris.
I"ll copy and paste part of the story that is tearing at my heart. I guess that's not a great way for a Marfan affected person to describe another marfan patient. Chris is dying of numerous physical tears in his heart.
Here it is, anyway.
I can see clearly that someone might go through this with me, or perhaps, (God help me), I will go through this with Andrew.
It's about letting go...
Yesterday morning Chris spelled out the name of a friend of ours who teaches with me. When Pete and I got to the hospital Diana and Steve told us he wanted to see our friend Stan.
Stan came to the hospital and we had a long and wonderful talk about healing and wholeness, not miracles or cures, and we rubbed Chris's feet with lotion like I do all the time.
I learned it at the foot clinic of our homeless shelter and Stan works at another shelter, so he knows how to do feet, too. And we talked and talked and it was the most peaceful and--oddly--joyous conversation I can remember in days.
Shortly after that, last evening, Chris began to be more and more sleepy and
less and less able to wake up or to stay awake when he wakes up.
Today he's slept pretty much the whole day. No one can be sure, of course, but it's almost as though Stan was able to give Chris the permission to let go
without giving up. That's been such an important distinction and I adore
Chris for it.
He's never wanted to give up, and what you all have told us is that he's given you that same courage and strength of will.
Letting go is different.
It stems from trust rather than from despair.
We met with Dr. Guyton the heart surgeon and Dr. Bailey the critical care
doctor-of-the-week today. It was already obvious to us that Chris was not going to meet the clinical criteria they had set for him last Monday and
they confirmed our impression. Dr. Guyton, world-famous heart surgeon that he is, said words I shall never forget: "I was wrong." He told us that, if
Chris were his child, he would begin to cut back on the milranon that is
making his heart beat so hard and the I-forget-its-name blood pressure
medicine that is keeping his blood pressure up but is now damaging his
kidneys, which are already compromised. On the other hand, since Chris can't participate in this conversation himself, we must honor his wishes the last time he expressed them, and those are that he wants to fight as much as he can. I loved Dr. Guyton for that. Dr. Bailey told us about losing his
own brother two years ago and having to make similar decisions as ours. He
too was wonderful.
We decided both to honor Chris's wishes not to give up and to keep him
comfortable and free of pain or anxiety in the face of multiple system
failures. There is nothing we can do to prevent the inevitable, but we will
not cut back on his current medications.
You know... Sometimes it seems to all happen at once.
Things go along fine, and I forget I have Marfan Syndrome. Life is grand, and I love my life, and Andrew and I are going to live forever.
Who knows? We still might... :)
Then one doctor appointment comes... then a surgery, then another surgery... then this story of Chris.
It hits home sometimes. Right home to the very delicate tissues of my often times hardened heart.
We are still fighting. We are all, you and I, healthy, or not-- fighting against this end.
We stand and fight and we won't let go.
I am going to do a page on the entire story of Chris's days in the hospital. The humor, the closeness, the crying, the memories of the good times... Through Beth's letters I have laughed and cried.
I am, however, going to cry rather loudly when --it-- happens.
Although I knew of Chris only through e mail communication and list watching, I feel I really know him now.
Entering a time of medical needs for me, is often an emotional time. Just being in the office, whether it's for the Marfan like, loosely connected muscles of my eye, or the high palate of Andrews mouth, It reminds me of what I could be in there for.
They always check "that" before surgery. To make sure "that" is behaving normally.
Well, ladies and gentlemen, "that" is just fine, physically, in Andrew and I, right now. I'll confirm that today.
The doctors measured it last, as slightly enlarged, or in digits of slightly too many centimeters...
But I say "that" is fine, thank you.
This story of Chris might change that.
Soon I might measure my heart as broken, and saddened for the loss of Chris.
Can an echocardiogram measure your level of heartbreak? I'll ask the doc next time.
Off I go, to my first pre op apt. They are going to measure my eye and do all the fun stuff like order my lens. What kind of eye do I want? A close up eye or a distance eye? I don't know! Bell bottoms or straight leg? :) It's like ordering out of a catalogue!
Anyway, should prove interesting.
With a heavy heart, yet appreciation for the life I am living.... I'm off to drive the icy hills to Portland! Yikes! :)
"Dr. Robertson, my appointment for surgery is March 20th.
Tim Juarez called and asked Bill and I to fish on the Siletz for steelies on
March 27th. Will I be able to do it?"
He did not hesitate to show me his feelings on this matter.
"NO! No fishing for a minimum of three weeks! No slamming around in boats! You may walk around, quietly read, watch TV, lay in bed... But no fighting fish!"
Well then! Let's see, this is spring chinook season. Visions of one particular wild chinook trip played in my mind. The doctor continued to stare at me as a vacant dreamland Jennie took over.
It was a sunny, cold morning. Our jet sled raced out to the spot against the spring wind. The boat slammed against the waves of the lower Columbia, with bone shattering crashes. I remembered to wear my sports bra, so even against the beating we took, I was comfortable. :)
After we anchored and put out my new chartreuse K 13, specially delivered by Buzz himself, my rod immediately went nuts!
I couldn't even get the dang thing out of the holder it was so intense! When I finally did, I had NO control! That fish just kept zipping away from the boat! I attempted to thumb it, but was quickly reminded of the strength of these finned fish by smoke coming from my thumb. OUCH! A couple of leaps, and nose down to the water to continue his planned escape. I just held on against the violence of his travel. My body arched against his pull.
I came back from my daydream.
Eye surgery that keeps me from fishing fo springers just won't do. I shook my head.
"Can't do it, doc."
"It's not a problem, Jennie. There is no emergency here, if you can live without sight in that eye until we do this. You go home, look at your fish calendar, and tell me when is a good time".
He shook my hand, smiled a smile that said, "That girl likes to fish way too much...", and exited the room.
I was happy! I was ecstatic! I was gleeful! I called friend after friend on the phone asking when? Oh when is the best hole in fishing time to do this?
I finally settled on mid June.
After all.... Upper Tillamook Bay fish will be winding up a bit then, and it is before the late summer silvers hit.
All that happens in June is a little bass and trout fishing. And a little bass and trout fishing never hurt a surgery eye, right doc? Anyone can effortlessly fling a fly rod, just as easily as lay on the couch and watch it on T.V. You don't fight bass, you play them! :)
If you are following the story of Chris, there is a pretty final letter from Beth. Breaks my heart.
This just in...
Chris died peacefully today at 12:30 p.m. His mom and dad, his sisters
Grace and Sarah, and I were with him, as were Kathy the-nurse-of-the-millennium and about half the ICU staff, including Dr.Bailey. Chris died knowing he was surrounded by the love of family and friends and the gracious, loving mercy of God. You were all with us in spirit and we felt you almost tangibly. Thank you.
There will be a memorial service on March 10 at 4:00 or 4:30 here in
Atlanta. Other arrangements remain to be settled. I think we have agreed
that memorial gifts should be made to the NMF, but I will let Chris's brother Steve tell you that for sure, since he is responsible for that.
Thank you for loving us through this.
I think I'm taking the rest of the day off. To be in the sun, to be by the river, to be with Kilchis, to fish, to play, to watch, to think, to see, but mostly, just to live.
It is, really good to be alive, huh?
I guarantee anyone, that if they want to smile, all they have
to do is throw Kilchis a Frisbee. No kidding! It works like a champ!
Another smile producer: Give the dogs a cookie. Even in the early morning, as I reach up in the box, and see their anticipation... Then, they get the treat in their mouths. They turn around, (falling all over both of themselves), to run, tails wagging, into the living room with their gifts.
It is worth it to sleep with your dog. Believe me. Even though he steals the covers, and miscellaneous parts of my body are often exposed to the cold, it's worth it. Even though sometimes he sets the bed to vibrating, from chewing and scratching at three in the morning, it's worth it. Even though he wakes me at the crack of dawn to go outside, it's worth it.
Why? I don't know. :) But, it's the way it is... and it's worth it!
Dang, I can't wait until I have this surgery of Andrew's behind me today, so I can start fishing again.
Remember fishing? :)
Today, off to Portland for day surgery for Andrew.
Tomorrow, I will stick around the house, do web work, do a little low water fishing out back.
Then... as he heals.... LOOK OUT!
I will be back!
The Springers are on the way, and I'm on the hunt.
Kilchis stole both of my slippers this morning, but was kind of enough to deposit them at my feet when he was done trying to kill them. I thought-- Oh! How nice! Thank you Kilchis!
YUCK! Cold dog slobber greeted both of my shivering feet!
Off to the showers, and onto icy hiway 6.
Honk and wave if you are on your way to the coast with a drift boat.
I love waving at rigs pulling boats whether I know them or not! :) It makes my kids embarrassed, but, what the heck! They say, "Mom, do you know them?
"I don't think so!" But I feel like I know ALL fish people!
Look for my red subaru, and honk if you love fishing!!!!
February 28th... later...
to Jeff Williams,
(AKA COOL TEXAN)
Jeff won a keeper sturgeon trip for two, with
Bite Me Guide Service
For more information, or to book a trip with Bite Me Guide Service, click here!