A Spring Break Story: Fishing with the Anderson Boys

Sometimes you go to Georgia, and sometimes you have visitors from Georgia.

Or as Lucia spells it "Joja."

Jack's brother, Dickie, and his family live on St. Simons Island. Unfortunately, we don't get to see them as often as we'd like, so we were elated to receive an e-mail from Dickie last week, telling us that he and our nephew, Jack, were considering a Spring Break fishing trip to Center Hill Lake. 

We sent some information about places to stay and eat and offered whatever concierge services we could provide, and late Wednesday afternoon, Dickie and Nephew Jack arrived at Lakeside, a rustic resort up the lake from us on the other side of Smithville.

Husband Jack and I were on the way home from Cookeville when Dickie called to let us know they'd made it, and we quickly arranged to meet-up for dinner at The Rose Garden Restaurant at Silver Point, which is only ten minutes from Lakeside and on our way home. Incidentally, The Rose Garden also has some of the tastiest fried catfish in these parts, and we knew it was sure to be a hit with the Georgia boys.

Over dinner, we strategized the best plans for fishing on Thursday and Friday, in consideration of quirky weather and rain in the forecast for late Thursday night into Friday. Figuring that Thursday would be the best day for boat fishing, we parted ways with plans to regroup on a rented boat sometime the following day.

Lakeside wasn't able to make direct arrangements for a boat, but Dickie was able to rent a boat at nearby Edgar Evins State Park, and shortly before 11:00, we were on our way to the park with tackle, cameras, and a picnic in hand.

The boat was nice, clean, and had plenty of room for more than the four of us and our gear. Life jackets were provided, and there were appropriate sizes for all kinds of passengers from babies on up. Because we didn't arrive at the marina until noon and the boat had to be returned by 4:00 p.m., we weren't able to travel far up the lake (or is it down the lake?), but we did get to see Center Hill Dam from the water, which I haven't done in a LONG time, and found a couple of nice spots to fish on Indian Creek. The wind made the water choppy, so it took us a little longer than it would've on a calm day, plus Dickie's hat blew off his head and into the lake, and we spent a good ten minutes fruitlessly attempting to rescue it. 

Dickie in his Southern Soul Barbecue hat.

Minutes later, searching for Dickie's hat.

Maybe this summer someone will find it on the bank, wash it, and give it a good home. 

Husband Jack scored the first catch of the day, a nice little Smallmouth Bass, and when he hooked another one later on in the afternoon, he quickly handed his rod and reel over to Nephew Jack to let him land the fish.

When the fish flopped off the hook and landed it the floor of the boat, I scooped it up and showed Jack how to hold it by the lip for long enough to get his picture made.

The Jacks caught a few more little bluegill, we saw a water snake from a safe distance, and then it was time to head back to the marina. We arrived just at 4 o'clock, and the rental guy was nice enough to help us get our things unloaded.

The plan for Friday was to stream fish for trout - Nephew Jack got a new flyrod for Christmas that he hadn't yet used, and he hoped to catch his first trout with it on this trip, but strong thunderstorms in the wee hours of the morning and the arrival of a cold front made fishing difficult.

Because of the rain and wet in the morning hours, we again waited until midday to get underway, meeting for a tasty lunch at Collins River Barbecue in McMinnville before wetting our lines in the Barren Fork River below the dam at Pepper Branch Park.

The sun came out, and the weather was absolutely delightful, as were our attitudes, but other than a couple of bluegill caught by Jack and Jack and one weird little skinny fish I managed to catch, we came up empty handed.

Next on the list was Sink Creek at Keltonburg, a place to fish on the way back to Smithville. When Jack and I had passed the creek on our way to lunch, the water was lively but still clear enough to fish. By the time we returned in the afternoon, the creek had swollen and turned into a swirling, muddy mess. Undaunted, our fishermen trudged down to the infamous mill pond, and I'll just say this - if Jack Anderson can't catch a trout in the falls there, nobody can. 

Jack doing a roll-cast with his flyrod.

The boys fished, and I prowled the landscape with my camera.

The fishing was disappointing, but we all had a wonderful time just being together on a fabulous Spring afternoon.

Before Dickie and Jack departed for home this morning, we treated them to a big family breakfast on the farm with Mom and Dad. Jack made homemade biscuits. We fried bacon and made a big pan of scrambled eggs. Mom tripped to Smithville for some hot, fresh donuts and had put together a nice fruit salad. We all laughed and visited together as long as we could, and then it was time for the boys to load up and start the trip home.

They've promised to be back - if not in the fall, definitely again next Spring. 

We're already looking forward to their return.

Photos from this adventure are at this link:

2015 Spring Break with Dickie and Jack

Lessons I've Learned on My Husband's Birthday

Yes, today is my sweetie's birthday, and the snow he asked for did not come. I've consulted "The Big Book of Weather Dances" several times and can't figure out what I'm doing wrong. A few flakes actually fell yesterday - it was a lovely three minutes. Perhaps next time I'll take my shoes off and do my snow-dance barefoot. And outside. Whatever it takes.

Hopefully this birthday will be a success and no circumstances, foreseen or unforeseen, will materialize to derail even a moment of any celebrating we do. After sixteen years of Jack's birthdays, I feel that I can now approach it with some level of confidence in consideration of years past and the lessons I've learned.

Lesson 1:

Birthdays with zeroes at the end are important. 

Don't screw around with them. Don't go to a sushi restaurant for the first time without getting at least one very positive personal recommendation. 

I messed this up. Both times. 

When Jack turned forty, he wanted to go eat sushi. Rather than go to our "regular place" in Murfreesboro, I suggested we go to a new place that had recently opened in Cookeville. Bad move. The food was OK but just barely. The service was nothing nothing short of horrible. We were both disappointed by what should have been a special meal, and neither of us was surprised when the place went out of business six months later.

For Jack's fiftieth birthday, I ended up pulling the same stunt. And worse. Again, Jack wanted sushi for his birthday dinner. Our "regular place" in Murfreesboro had changed owners, and our regular sushi chef no longer worked there. We'd heard rumors that he'd opened his own place to cut fish in Brentwood, and after some internet searching, I thought I'd found it. I didn't.

It wasn't a good restaurant experience. When Sis ordered milk for Lucia, the waiter looked at her like she'd sprouted a second head - Mom had to walk to a nearby Jersey Mike's to buy a carton. I inadvertently planned our dinner on a night when Dad and Chris couldn't join us, so Jack's big birthday celebration was down by two who should have been there with us. 

We did manage to have fun, but there was another failure that evening, which became a lesson of its own and brings us to -- 

Lesson 2:

If there isn't cake, there should be a dessert of his choice. 

I'd mentioned plans to have The Sweet Shop make a cake. I intended to order one, but it didn't happen. The worst part was at the restaurant, when Lucia looked over and asked in her sweet little voice, "Is there cake, Pammy?"

Jack's face was just as hopeful and expectant as hers. I wanted to crawl in a hole. It was truly one of those, "Death, take me now" moments.

Two days later I brought home a delicious triple chocolate cake, but it wasn't the same. I did learn quickly, though. I've not made the "no cake" mistake again, and last year when Jack said he wanted tiramisu instead of cake, I made one from scratch.

Lesson 3:

Beware of cats bearing gifts.

We'd stayed home to celebrate. Jack wanted a big steak, a big baked potato, and red wine. It was a Saturday night, and we had a roaring fire in the stove. At some point Jack decided he was heading to bed back in the "cool end" of the house, and within minutes he was snoring.

He'd been asleep for perhaps an hour when I noticed the cats were acting suspiciously. I didn't think anything about it until I went into the bathroom and saw the little squirrel. It had climbed halfway up our shower curtain to escape the reaches of the cats, who were taking turns swatting at it from the edge of the bathtub. It looked terrified and rightfully so.

"What in the world?" I asked the cats.

We'd gotten our roaring fire so roaring hot that we'd opened a sliding glass door for a few minutes to vent the heat from the house. One of the cats had obviously taken advantage of the evening's open-door policy to bring a new "catch" inside. 

After shooing the cats from the bathroom and making a couple of half-assed attempts to catch the squirrel in a pillowcase, I felt I had no choice.

Me: "Honey, um... there's a squirrel in the bathroom. Can you, ah... get up and help me catch it?"

Jack: Mumble, snort, mumble... "What?"

Me: (insistently) "Jack, wake up. There's a squirrel in the bathroom."

Several tense minutes and many, many curse words later, Jack released the young squirrel back to the wild. 

His parting words before heading back to bed were, "Happy Birthday to ME!"

Next time I'll close the door and let him find it himself. Damn cats.

Lesson 4:

Don't "stop by the office" - not even for a minute.

I'd been working a lot - a whole lot - and Jack and I hadn't had many opportunities to spend time together. My job at the time was demanding and not very much fun, and I'd started bringing a lot of negativity home with me. 

All Jack wanted for his birthday was for us to spend a whole day having fun in Chattanooga - lunch, shopping, dinner, whatever we decided to do. I scheduled the day off, and we were good to go.

My office was pretty much "on the way" to Chattanooga, and I suggested that we stop by to just say, "hello," and let him get some birthday greetings. I could also pick up the birthday card I'd gotten for him and accidentally left on my desk. 

When we arrived, all hell was breaking loose. As soon as my boss spotted me from down the hall, he shouted, "Thank GOD you decided to come on in today!"

I explained that I was "just stopping by."

Three hours later we were back on our way to Chattanooga, but Jack had flipped through more issues "Modern Healthcare" and "Nursing Leader" magazines than anyone should ever have to do in the corner of his or her spouse's office on his or her birthday.

Lesson 5:

Go with the flow.

One of Jack's best birthdays was totally on-the-fly. I had to work, and Jack day-tripped to Nashville with me. He had tentative plans to visit our dear friend Claudia and then do some shopping at "the good grocery stores" before picking me up at the hospital at quitting time and meeting the family for dinner. 

I had no idea how he had occupied himself, but he was in a big way when he retrieved me from work. 

Claudia had entertained him all day - a butcher shop, an Italian market, a visit with some East Nashville restaurateur friends, fun foodie errands... He'd sampled cheese and wine and met all kind of interesting people. He'd laughed and conversed and had a completely different day than he expected to have.

"I invited Claudia to join us for dinner," he said with a big smile on his face

"Fine with me, it's your birthday," I replied, smiling back, happy that he'd had a great day.

The whole family, including Claudia, met for dinner at Peter's Sushi in Brentwood. Jack and I had never been there before, but Claudia highly recommended it - as a matter of fact, when Peter, the owner, saw Claudia waiting with our party, he started pushing tables together and finding a high-chair for Lucia. The food was all delicious, nobody had to go on a milk run, the service was A+, and at the end of the meal when I whipped out the huge chocolate birthday cake, someone brought us clean plates and fresh napkins.

Jack proclaimed it was the best birthday ever. The curse was broken. 

Plans and expectations are great, but some of the happiest times we experience are those that just happen, and the best we can expect is to move beyond our disappointments without shame, laugh about them when we can, and learn from them as we move into the future.

I love you, Jack. Happy Birthday.

Teach a Man to Fish... and Fry Stuff

I'm going to spare you the lukewarm apologies about not having posted in awhile and just jump right on into this one.

Jack loaded up his kayak and went fishing on Monday. He caught a five pound catfish using an ultralight rig with four-pound test line. Yeah, he says, it was a fun catch!

I'll spare you the gory photos of the cleaning and filleting process in order to maintain our PG-13 rating...

Fast forward to Tuesday night.

Here are our fillets, lightly dusted in seasoned flour.  After this step, they were dredged through our magic batter and rolled in yellow corn meal...

The hushpuppies were first to hit the hot grease.

Watch that cooking temperature.

Then time for the real goodies to sizzle and hiss...

Adequate supervision is recommended per the instructions for the propane burner.

One...

...two, three, four, five, six...

Number seven is a test piece...

A perfect catfish dinner.