Here Fishy Fishy…
If you’re a fisherman (is the p.c. version of that “fisher-person”?), then you know already that it’s fishing season here in the Fraser Valley of British Columbia. Everyone I know is talking about how they want to get on the river and fish, or what they caught this morning before work, or how many “pinks” are running right now. And me?
I like it when others do the work – catch it, gut it, filet it, flash freeze it and vacuum seal it – and then let me throw some olive oil and lemon peel on it, slap it on a cedar plank in the BBQ and eat it. That’s where I shine. The cooking and eating end of things. I’m not really into the whole fishing “thing”.
That said, I haven’t been fishing since I was 14, so maybe I would like it. Hmm…I wonder if anyone’s got some waders I could borrow?
BTW, extra credit if you can tell me what inspired the title of this post. Seriously. I’ll be impressed if you can remember where you first heard that phrase.