When I agreed to quit my great job, sell my house, marry my spouse and move to Wyoming, I had visions of cowboys, horses, deer and antelope roaming, and well, basically living a western lifestyle. Well, once I took off my rose colored glasses I realized that I moved to a declining population state, where "the Equality State" is anything but... But then my spouse told me of Wyoming Wife training. Now it's not an actual class, although there are groups and organizations that offer some help and hope to newly settled and learning the ropes woman. Wyoming wife training is actually alot like survivalist skills, only as a woman, your spouse typically tries to teach you what you should know, as opposed to a non-biased professional who has all the patients of a saint, because you pay him to teach you something. My first step in this process was getting a fishing license and learning to cast a line (or rod, as my husband did trying to show me the correct way!) Anyway, sounds easy enough right? Well sure, you go down to one of many stores, if not all the stores, in your town. Show them an ID, pay your fee, and you are good to go. Then what? Well, now your loving husband is going to show you how to cast and reel in dinner. Now pay close attention, because somewhere in the teachings you agreed to catch, clean, and cook his dinner. This sentiment isn't in an instruction manual, it's just slipped in somewhere between "you're doing great!" and "did you have fun?" Now for those who haven't fished before and are animal lovers, let me just tell you, you have to spear this poor worm onto your hook and, hopefully, catch a big fish on the same hook and then hope that it enjoyed it's last meal...
My first experience wasn't all that great... I refused to put the worm on my own hook! (Call me a whimp, I dare ya!!! ) So once the poor thing was on there I was given a few instructions on how to cast out. Well, needless to say, I caught the bush that was about 15 feet behind me. Not the most glorious moment of my life... Then after I got the line untangled, I tried again... I caught my leg that time! Thank goodness for thick Carhartt duck!! That hook never had a chance, and either did the poor worm... So, not one to give up so easily, I tried a third time... Three is a lucky number isn't it? Well, on my third time I cast out about 4 feet from shore and had about 20 feet of fishing line scattered from hell to breakfast... Was not a pretty sight. So then I began reeling in my line and trying not to make it any worse than what it already was. I gave up then. I could see the disappointment in my loving husbands eyes... Ah well, let him catch my dinner! This is the Equality State right???? Enough for one day, if you ask me... Oh did I mention that the wind was blowing something fierce during my first lesson and that my spouse thought it would help me... Now I ask you, who in their right mind learns something like this while the wind feels like it's going to lift me into the pond???
Oh, about the worm... After the second cast, the poor thing broke in half... The third cast was the mercy killing it deserved before I inflicted any more damage to it... Not that a fish would care what shape its dinner is in...
Ah, well, I've got better since that first fateful day. Now I routinely catch more fish than my husband... And I don't use a worm at all. The last time I went fishing, I caught a small mouth bass that just missed the state record... If I hadn't cleaned it and such, it might have made it. But alas, my spouse was not there to inform me of my mistake, he was working!!! And I didn't feel bad at all, after all you can't eat a state record, but you can have a mighty tasty meal from that fish! And I didn't feel bad about going without my spouse either, his job requires long hours, so I'm left to my own devices at times....
Stay tuned for Step 2 - How I learned to clean a fish... You'll love it!
No comments:
Post a Comment