Before chemo started, Husband and I attempted to keep the vacation spirit alive by taking the kids fishing. We tried out Horn Pond in Woburn. It’s right by the electric power plant. You can’t miss it.
Husband and the kids used their secret weapon: hot dogs. I used a lure.
Husband and the kids caught a whole bunch of fish. I did not.
Husband suggested I try some hot dog. I refused.
At long, long last, I got a bite. I could tell it was a big one. It fought mightily, but I dug in my heels, hauling and reeling, hauling and reeling, the rod bending under the strain of my amateur technique. This was no ordinary sunfish. Not even a catfish or a bass. It was a trout, for sure. No, a cod! A SALMON!!! It didn’t matter that I was just going to throw it back. I had to catch that fish. I had to. I would have dove in there to get it if need be. After an epic struggle that drew at least one curious spectator, this is what I dragged to shore:
A bouquet of plastic flowers. Never underestimate a fish’s sense of humor.