Dear Goddess of All Things Lovely,
So my husband wanted you to know that he almost gagged when he read the list of icky things you have no trouble dealing with, including the icky clams. Of course, you realize that that makes you the Goddess of All Things Icky, too. You go girl. ;-)
Elizabeth Swann (google this, you know who you are, pirate girl!), Good Grief, ID
Dear Liz,
Thank you for bestowing yet another title upon me. Are there any perks that come with that title? Like a notorious unreliable Italian red convertible, George Clooney, or stock options that may actually end up being worth something some day? Just asking. And just so you know that no one has seen the icky I’ve seen; here’s Iz’s lunch box from yesterday. Yes, that’s spaghetti smeared everywhere!
So, the story…
Amrit pulled up something that looked like a cat. Well, it looked like a cat fish to me. It was a cusk; and what kind of fish is named cusk? Halibut, flounder, tilapia….those were fish names, but cusk sounded like a prehistoric artifact that one would view every 15 years at the Museum of Science.
A cusk is a “stew” fish versus a baked fish or versus a Filet-O-Fish. Though I had to wonder if my Filet-O-Fish (my only guilty McDonald’s pleasure) might be cusk. Actually, for all I knew, I might be eating icky clams when devouring my guilty pleasure once upon an every PMS time!
A few minutes later, Jasjit, who had already been given the this-is-how-you-fish talk a few times, was reeling in his line. In his newbie fisherman defense, it was sometimes hard to determine if you had a fish, a 1790 schooner, or your line was being pulled under the boat by another fisherman who had “caught” you. This happened several times over the course of the day.
It was rather hysterical to look through the boat’s galley and see someone furiously reeling in a “catch.” I looked at Jasjit reeling and then I’d look at this other guy reeling, and I’d giggle. I said to Jasjit once, “Um, I think you just caught a 250-pound technical support guy named Charlie on the starboard side of the ship!” (Okay, I only know which side is which because of my last sailing expedition with Brenda. Port is four letters, and left is four letters. Thank you, Brenda!)
The ship hand saw Jasjit pulling in his line. I really hoped Jasjit had a fish. If this ship hand gave Jasjit the this-is-how-you-fish talk one more time, I would have to go all Elle Woods on him and maybe even smack him!
When Jasjit’s line came out, I couldn’t bear to look, not because of the fish, but because I had to channel Elle Woods soon if there was no fish. I then heard, “You got a nice one!” I sighed and shelved the thoughts of rhinestones, pink, and all small dog breeds that fit in a purse. Okay, I kept thinking about rhinestones and pink; however, who really needs a small purse-sized dog?
And, on the sixth hour of the fishing trip, Amrit, Jasjit, and Jean rested. Actually, we had our fish in the bag. We only had to wait and have them filleted.
But, then there was the worm issue. It was somewhat like the Alien issue; however, the worms were in the fish and not in me. I never knew that fish had worms, though I knew in most cases that you needed worms to catch fish, which was quite perplexing!
Two years ago, Nathan and I went on this same fishing trip together; we caught a cod. When we were heading back to the dock, Nathan and I sat at a table inside the boat; he was drinking a Sprite, and I had finished my second beer. On the table was our fish in a clear plastic bag; I noticed movement, and I said, “Nathan, there’s something wrong with our fish!”
He said, “Mom, they’re just worms.” I asked, “Worms?!” He said, “Yeah, you have to take them out. Don’t you know that all fish have worms?”
I didn’t, and then I said…
You know, I like these serial blogs. And, given reader feedback, I know that all two of you do, too. ♥
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