Subourbon Mom

I recently got my Cabela’s weekly supplement in the mail.  As I was flipping through, marveling at the wide assortment of camouflage apparel and accessories, I came across a sale on fishing kayaks.

I’m a big fan of fishing – I love getting up at dawn, racing along the still waters of the lake to “the spot,” and casting in that rhythmic way that feels like meditating.  I even love the small heart attack every nibble and bite produces – yes, I am probably the only person in the world who can make fishing stressful. But I still love it.

I also like kayaking – not as much, but it’s great exercise and is a wonderful way to see different things along the shoreline that you might otherwise not notice going 20 knots in the boat.

I DO NOT, however, like the idea of doing those two things at the same time.

I do not want to be on the same plane as the fish, especially if it’s a big catfish flopping around with spikes that can ruin your corn-on-the-cob-holding hand.  Just because I like to eat a jar of pickles at a time doesn’t mean I want to sit in a vat of pickle juice while I do it.

I cannot fathom hooking a big old bass, wrestling it into…my lap?  Are you kidding me?  That small heart attack I mentioned would be nothing to the panic that would ensue after I got bitch-slapped by that fish.

Plus, I saw the movie Jaws.  I am NOT going to hook a fish and be dragged to my death, bobbing and weaving like those yellow barrels.

So thank you, Cabela’s and all you avid sportspeople for combining two peaceful activities into one stressful, death-inducing trip into angler Hell.

You better believe “We’re gonna need a bigger boat.”