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I started keeping a fishing calendar this past year. My thinking was that I would somehow get to fish more. I was applying the business proverb of “that which gets measured gets done”. Apparently this doesn’t work as well on the home front. Actually, MOST of the leadership tactics I bring home from work become useless when they pass between my lot lines. Kind of a Bermuda Triangle of management principles I’d say. I’ll share more on this once I fully understand the phenomenon. In the meantime, I’ve learned it’s best to just go with the flow most of the time and try not to get underfoot of the wonderful women in my life.

Sometimes the vehicle we call life can drive pretty fast and we’re not necessarily at the wheel. Although I love that my daughters stay busy, it does make me ponder what the heck empty nesters do with their time. The endless stream of sleepovers, homework projects, ball games, and the like - easily displace the time that “coulda” been spent on a stream of a different sort. It’s “all good” though. I am happy they are busy well-adjusted kids that basically stay out of trouble. However, it sure is nice to have some “alone time” once in awhile to slow the pace.

Friday Evening

Every once in a while though, I get a gift of time. Yesterday I found out that the softball tournament this weekend was somehow going to go on without the Stampede, my youngest daughter’s team. As if they didn’t spend enough time together every previous weekend, they decided to do a movie day with the whole team. Great! Have at it. Just give me my free kitchen pass and I’m outa here. It’s the middle of July. Darn hot in my part of the country, but I bet I can find a coldwater tailrace with a few leftover stockers in it even in these dog days. Maybe four hours drive, at best, but it’d be worth it.

I mentioned it to the boss. When she said, “just go”, she sort of looked at me funny. So, apparently the vote (or veto) is still out on this one. I am smart enough to know actions-speak-louder-than-words and did not confuse her yes with a Yes - more negotiations to resume in the morning. Hmm, it’d probably be good to leverage some other activity that she is interested in. I may have to get out the massage table again. Worked for my last fishing trip - though my hands were too tired to cast. Oh, the sacrifices I whilst make for ye li’l trout. Hmm, maybe if she comes up with independent plans of her own for Saturday night, then I could throw the tent in the jeep and head for the mountains.

Sounds like a beer commercial doesn’t it. Well, shoot, I’m just hopeless enough of a romantic to believe there SHOULD be moments that are beer-commercial-ish. Maybe not with the athletes and bikini girls, but at the very least something more noble than the day-to-day grind of improving the widget making processes at work. I guess I’m searching for some adventure, something that forces one to say, “It don’t get no better’n this.”

Saturday Morning

Didn’t quite get up as early as I’d thought. As soon as was reasonably appropriate (which is frankly a stab in the dark), I introduced the topic of fishing again but was quickly reminded of the current state of my yard. She was right. The lawn was turning into a jungle - a product of our busy schedules and the same distractions that keep me from trout fishing. Mowing, edging, weeding, pruning, weed-wacking, pool cleaning, dog doo-doo shoveling, and a bunch of sweating later, I was ready to go fishing. Too late in the afternoon though for a reasonable trip to the mountains - but when life gives you lemons make Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches. Oh yeah, I’ll explain this later.

I threw the tent, bedroll, sleeping bag, cotton sheet, cooler, and a couple of fly rods in the back seat. I grabbed the necessary paper products as well as a lighter. A few trips to the back of the jeep with armloads of logs completed the preparation. I was getting away. Not far away, but Away. Oops, almost forgot some flies, my vest, some sports sandals, and the little neoprene booties I wear for wet wading; oh yeah, bug dope and polarized glasses. I guess it wasn’t as simple as I had thought. I hope that is everything. I can’t help the sinking sensation I get every time I go camping - that I am leaving the key ingredient behind. Mental checklist time - yep, got everything. Okay, Away.

This trip I was trying to keep as simple as absolutely possible. Often though camping can be about the food. In fact, my wife is an incredible camp chef who works marvels with aluminum foil packets and hobo pie makers. She puts the George Foreman grill to shame or even the fancy Fire-and-Ice contraption that cools and cooks that my buddy Bruce (the James Bond of camping) uses. Camping with my wife Dawn is truly a culinary experience. Admittedly, I like to dabble in campfire cuisine as well. But, again, this trip was not about the food. I just need to stop to get soda, ice, beef jerky, shelled peanuts, and a couple of cigars and I will be whole. You see, there exists a phenomenon I call the Peanut Butter and Jelly Paradox. Henceforth described as PB&JP. According the PB&JP, EVERYTHING tastes incredible after a day in the outdoors, particularly if it is made AND consumed in the outdoors. If you were out wranglin’ doggies for a long day - shoe leather would taste like steak. If you were out in the woods hunting from daylight to early afternoon - crackers and cheese would make your mouth water like cr