Musings

Gradual Change

I’ve been doing a little bit here and there on this blog today.  Long overdue stuff.  Nothing major.  A couple of new books over there somewhere on the right.  I don’t have a ton of time to read lately…at least not anything meant for someone older than three….

That’s a picture of me holding a lobster up there in the right-hand corner of this page.  Back when we lived in a little tiny cottage and there were just the two of us…

And back before pregnancy made me queasy at the smell of rotting fish heads (which were used to bait the lobster traps).

And back before pregnancy caused my center of gravity and my sense of balance to change EVER so dramatically.

And back before I had my first child and had to stay home and on land because it seemed selfish to me (at the time – I’ve matured since) to have someone babysit JUST so I could go out fishing with my husband. 

We tried taking Alex out on the boat once when he was about a year old, but the timing was bad – it was a very warm day, he was encased in his mammoth life jacket, and he was overdue for a nap.  He didn’t enjoy himself and let us know about it as loudly as possible.  We made it to the gas dock and back and that was about all any of the three of us could tolerate.

And back before the boat became too much of a headache (too many repairs needed, too small, too costly to dock)…and before Bill traded it (and the nice trailer it was sitting on) to a coworker for a case of beer.  They kept the trailer.  The boat, as I understand it, was eventually flattened.

We WILL eventually get another boat – something a little bigger than 16 feet…something that the previous owner didn’t CARPET (because it’s really hard to get the stink of rotting fish or fish blood out of CARPET and really, carpeting doesn’t belong on a hardworking little boat like ours was anyway.)  Something newer, something safer, something we can bring the kids out on without fear that the previous owner’s bad fiberglassing job will give when the bow slaps too hard against someone else’s wake.  Something my husband won’t have to teach himself to fiberglass on.  Something with live wells.  Something with white or off-white surfaces.  Something we can just hose down and be done with at the end of a trip.

And then we WILL go back out on a regular basis, and put the lobster pots back out there, and teach the kids to bait hooks and adjust the drag and set the hook and bring an angry bluefish successfully into the boat.  Both of the kids. 

Sigh.  Probably not this year…but maybe next year.  I hope.

One thought on “Gradual Change

  1. As a confirmed wood-boat crank, this post makes me wince. However, I understand completely.

    I started teaching my oldest (6 next week) to fish last spring. He’s going to be better at it than me–the only fish I catch are the despondent suicidal ones.

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