I think I’ve already mentioned my two much much older sisters. Yesterday morning our three husbands (one each) left on their annual fishing trip. With all the fish coolers they loaded into the truck they looked pretty ambitious about the number of fish they expect to catch.
Last year, the guys told and retold the story about a fish so big that it towed their boat around the lake for hours. Apparently some of those fish were so big, that the guys tried reeling them in on the truck winch. The coolers, however, came back almost empty. Dear Husband got a fish finder for Christmas and I just finished sewing a case for it the other day. It will be interesting to hear how many more fish they catch this year. Hmmmmm…
But we all know that fishing isn’t about the fish… its about doing all the guy things that guys do when they are not under the watch full eye of ‘the wife’.
For 5 days and 4 nights our husbands will walk the wild side, swearing each other to the code… “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas”… which translates to monkey business of SEE no evil, HEAR no evil SPEAK no evil.
All of their wickedness amounts to stuffing themselves with chips, chocolate and jelly filled donuts before supper. Next is eating chicken and drinking beer, then passing gas without having to get up and leave the room. Chicken and beer fest will happen only once because of the debilitating heartburn. And … like monkeys, there will be unabashed itching and scratching of unspeakable body parts.
In the evenings there will be all kinds of colorful fireside revelations and a knee-slapping chorus of “Wow…This is the life!” In fact one of these three husbands, and I won’t name names, went so far as to say he was having more fun than he had on his wedding night…. I ‘m sure he was referring to the hours between the wedding ceremony and the first toast. He’ll be doing penance with a brush and paint bucket if my much older sister finds out what he said. But then I suspect ‘my source’ is just as guilty of such reckless talk otherwise he wouldn’t be ‘spilling’ already.
There will be brandy, cigars and raucus card playing where fortunes in fishing gear will be gambled away. But they are all such lousy card players, that except for a few nymph flies, they’ll leave with what they came with. Talking about nymphs, the closest they will get to female ‘action’ is with Katrina, the blow up doll.
In the mornings the guys pull straws to see who gets to parade Katrina like she was ‘the chick that stayed the night’. Also, with Katrina strapped in the front seat, it permits the winner to race their boat in the HOV lane to get to the ‘sweet spot’ before all the other boats arrive. Now that’s life in the fast lane!
At the end of the week, our husbands will arrive home unshaven and unkempt but with a renewed swagger in their walk. Their fishing trip will be mealtime conversational fodder until Christmas and we three sisters will wink and smile because we know what they really do on their fishing trips.
Don’t forget to enter this week’s pillow giveaway. What fish stories has your husband come home with???