best of intentions

We took the boys fishing today at a local pond. Although the pond is a bit small and yucky, it’s a calm and lovely family pastime that we’ve come to enjoy. The boys love the catch and release and have learned how to cast quite beautifully. This morning, we watched as a father and son walked up with their fishing gear to set up nearby. They had gear much more impressive than ours—seemed to be taking their outing far more seriously than we, intending to actually keep the fish they were confident to catch, even though we have only ever been able to catch 3-inch fish from this pond.

We watched in wonder as they set up their lines, buckets and live bait (we were using bits of leftover pepperoni picked off from last night’s pizza). We thought for certain we would learn something from their expertise. Moments later the father threw a yellow bucket far into the water, meant for holding the live fish they were sure to soon catch when quickly he let out a yelp followed by a curse as he realized the bucket was not attached to anything on land. He and his son watched helplessly as the bucket slowly floated further away into the mucky water. The son encouraged his father to retrieve it before it went much further. So, out the father went, in his pants and flip flops—red faced and frustrated. As he stepped back onto shore—one broken flip flop dangling from his foot, we tried to act like we weren’t watching when he shot us an embarrassed glance.

A half hour passed as we cast our lines in unison next to this father and son, waiting for the fish to bite. As our boys pointed out a blue heron and ducks swimming nearby, we couldn’t help but overhear the father voicing his frustration at the fish in the water: “COME ON! Take it, already! Eat the damn thing! Bite it! Jesus!”

I suppose we did learn something about fishing from them, but it wasn’t anything about technique or gear. It was about finding joy in just being together- without agenda. Today I realized that fishing for us is not about the fish at all.

at least someone didn't poop in your eye

When you’ve had a hard day, loved ones will often say- “things could always be worse”- the idea being to provide you with perspective on your challenges. Sure, you might’ve burned your hand while making breakfast, fallen down on your way to your car, run out of gas on your way to work, then locked your keys in the car, just to get to work and realize that it’s a Sunday, but, at least you didn’t break your leg, get hit by a truck, or get carjacked. Things could always be worse.

This morning, as I sat in my living room eating my breakfast, my cat Hazel leaped up to my lap seeking some attention. Hazel has an anal gland issue. This means that at very inopportune moments her anal glands express themselves in various unfortunate ways. At this particular moment, my dog Wilbur happened to be sitting next to me, also seeking attention, and the brunt of Hazel’s glandular expression landed squarely on his face. In his eyes to be precise. It’s difficult to describe in words the smell and texture of the oil that comes from Hazel. Needless to say it is gag-worthy.

This is one of those worsts that I think people refer to when they try to comfort you during bad days. “At least someone didn’t poop in your eye”. It’s a new low that I think will now always come to my mind when I’m having a bad day.