Calfgrit8’s Cub Scout pack had a fishing day planned for this past Saturday. Both our boys were looking forward to it for nearly two weeks, but I was feeling strangely apathetic about it.

I haven’t been fishing in around 25 years. It was a regular part of my youth: saltwater fishing off the pier at the beach, freshwater fishing from shore or boat in a lake. I had my own fishing rod and reel — oddly, a left-handed rig (I’m right handed in all other things) — and I knew how to handle it and take care of it. But that was a long time ago, seemingly in a previous life.

The most regular fishing memories I have is fishing off a pier in the Atlantic with my maternal grandparents. Baiting two hooks (upper and lower) with shrimp, casting the pyramidal lead weight out into the waves, waiting patiently for the tug of a fishing biting, and reeling in the catch.

I also remember some ocean and lake fishing with my dad, river fishing once or twice with my paternal grandparents (with cane poles), and some small-pond fishing with friends. All catches were for eating, and it was years after I had last fished that I heard of the concept of “catch and release” (unless the catch was too small to eat).

Even though I fished a lot in the ocean, I don’t remember pulling in any really big catches. I’ve seen others pull in sharks, a manta ray, and some big fish that I don’t know what they were. I always wanted to fight some big monster, but it just never happened.

The only exceptional catch I ever landed (and I love telling this when people are relating fish tales) is my catch of a seagull. Yeah, a seagull.

I was fishing with my dad off the ocean pier. I baited my hooks with shrimp, then held my rod aloft for a grand cast, and threw it out.

Seagulls were regular fixtures of the ocean pier. Many were always flying about or hovering in the wind, and you had to be mindful of laying your bait around unattended. If you set down a piece of shrimp and then turned away to get something, it wasn’t unusual for a gull to swoop in and snatch a snack.

As my bait, weight, and line flew out in a high arc over the waves, a seagull swooped in on the hooked shrimp. The bird plucked the snack out of the air, but its wings got tangled in the fishing line. Down the bird went into the water, all tangled and flapping and crying out.

I reeled in the bird as a bunch of people on our side of the pier looked on at the strange situation. With my dad advising, I reeled the bird on up out of the water and up the twenty feet to the side of the pier. Other fishers came up to help get the bird onto the pier and restrained.

It took three grown men to hold the seagull still — it was panicked and tried to flap, claw, and bite at any hands that got close to it. But it was terribly tangled in the line, and every panicked move just made things worse.

Eventually, though, after many minutes, the men got the line unwrapped and the hooks removed (neither were in the bird’s throat, fortunately). Once finished, everyone stepped back quickly and let the bird go. It leaped up and cried and jumped away. It took to the air and flew out over the water, hopefully with enough of a lesson to never again go for flying bait.

When other fishers start telling their stories about big catches, and the bigger ones that got away, I really like tossing out this story. After all these years, I’ve never found a fisher who’s seen firsthand or heard about anyone catching a seagull. It’s my own unique fishing experience. And yes, for the record, it is really true (no wink or nod).

To be continued tomorrow.

Bullgrit

The boys had played all day while I did some work around the house. The boys wanted to go to the pizza buffet and I was more than willing to pass on cooking and cleaning dinner.

I told them that they had to clean up all their toys — strewn from their bedroom to the den and back — and then we’d go to get pizza. It took the better part of an hour to get everything cleaned up. Then we hopped in the van and went to dinner.

The boys both ate nearly their weight in pizza. When they said they were all full and done, I let them go to the little game room to look at the racing games in there. (We don’t play the games, they just like to look at them.) Before we got up from the table to go to the game room, I made sure with both of them that they were, indeed, completely full. “We’re not having a snack or anything else before bed. This is dinner, and we’re not eating again until breakfast.”

We have to lay this rule down every night or else Calfgrit4 pulls the little “I’m hungry” stunt as an excuse to stay up from bed just a little bit longer. He used to wouldn’t eat his dinner because he knew he could get a snack before bed. We’ve mostly broke him of this gimmick.

After the game room, we left the restaurant and got into the van. As I put the vehicle in reverse to back out of the parking spot, Calfgrit4 laments, “I should have eaten more pizza. I’m hungry.” He had eaten six or seven slices of pizza and a cinnamon roll for dessert! He ate more than I did!

Then when we got home (a nice and neat home), I got Calfgrit8 into the tub for a bath first. Calfgrit4 was left to play for a little while, and I got on my computer to check my messages.

Ten minutes later, I come out of my office and find Calfgrit4 has toys ALL OVER THE PLACE! Their room and the den were more of a mess than when we started cleaning it up before going out to dinner. IN TEN MINUTES!

It was like a toy bomb hit, and poor casualties were laying about everywhere. “What in the world!” I almost shouted.

“I wanted to play before bath,” Calfgrit4 said.

“I know, but, but, but,” I just stood there waving my hands at the scattered mess.

Bullgrit

Follow up from yesterday’s post.

Around 4:00 yesterday morning, Calfgrit4 came out of his room and called for his mom. Cowgrit got up and went to him; he said he needed a sip of water. Cowgrit had also heard him coughing a few times before he got up, so when she put him back to bed she mentioned that she may need to give him some cough medicine if the coughing keeps him from falling back to sleep. She went back to bed.

Ten minutes later, Calfgrit4 called out for Mom, again. Cowgrit got back up and went back to his room. He told her he needed the medicine to stop coughing. So she poured the medicine and he drank it. He laid down again, and she went to bed again.

Ten minutes later, Calfgrit4 called out for Mom, yet again. Cowgrit got back up and went back to his room. He informed her that the cough medicine was working — he wasn’t coughing anymore. With a tired sigh, she thanked him and went back to bed.

So through that night, CG4 called his mother into his room a total of five times. Fortunately for me, I had taken a Benedryl before bed that night, so I slept soundly through the early morning calls.

Bullgrit

The most annoying sound in the world:

We get the boys in their beds and quiet. We sit down on the sofa for a little rest and TV entertainment, and maybe even a little snack. The house is calm. Five quiet minutes pass. Our minds and bodies are finally relaxing.

From the boys’ room comes, “Daaaaad.” (Or “Mooooom.”) <- That sound, right there, with that timing, is the most annoying sound in the world.

Sigh. Get up, go answer Calfgrit4’s question. “Yes, dear, you have preschool tomorrow. Now good night.”

Last night we went through this routine, but then we got an extra summons.

The phone rang, and we let it ring until the answering machine picked up. While the phone rang, Calfgrit4 called, “Moooom . . . Mooooom . . . Mooooom.”

Cowgrit went to the boys’ room, she stuck her head in, and asked, “What is it?”

Calfgrit4 informed her, “You just got a phone call.”

“Yes,” said Cowgrit, “I know. Thank you. Now go to sleep.”

Cowgrit says she could hear me laughing in my office.

Bullgrit