A Fish Story*

Dedicated to Captain Dad

The day was so hot it made your toes sweat. A light breeze only made it slightly bearable. At least the bugs were staying close to the water and not in the boat.

I threw my legs up on the end of the boat and slathered on more sunscreen, which melted off instantly. It would be a miracle if I didn't get a sunburn, no matter what SPF proof I put on or how many times I reapplied.

Captain Dad trolled the boat in circles near the damn, the deepest part of the lake. My brother-in-law, Jim, kept rubbing his head, while my husband, Mike, played with his fishing line, trying to keep his mind off the heat.

"Look, it's Mr. Walleye." Captain Dad pointed to a blue and white boat in the distance. "If he's out here, it must not be a lost cause. He's the best fisherman out here, by far."

My heart skipped a beat, Captain Dad was right, no one could catch fish like Mr. Walleye. Even though he was thirty years my senior, I had a crush on his fish whispering capabilities. I wanted to be Mrs. Walleye.

"Did I ever tell you about the time he caught Ol' Nellie?" Captain Dad asked.

I shook my head, too hot to utter the words 'no'.

"It took Mr. Walleye four hours to reel her in. She weighed close to 23 pounds and is an Oklahoma record. I was out here fishing with Joe when Mr. Walleye caught her, we watched the whole show. It was a good thing Mr. Walleye had his son out here to help, without a netter there wouldn't have been any way Mr. Walleye would've got her in. Funny thing though, as soon as Mr. Walleye started towards shore, there was a massive wave. I swear I saw a fish twice Ol' Nellie's size jump out of the water. Mr. Walleye said that was Ol' Willie, Ol' Nellie's mate."

Jim laughed. "Yeah right! A 46 pound walleye, a doubt any fishing line could even hold that monster of a fish."

"That line you've got on right now could," retorted Captain Dad. "I've lost too many lures to snapped lines, this time I put on the good stuff."

"Can you imagine," I said, looking at Mike, "catching a 46 pound fish. I doubt I could reel him in."

"Of course you could," said Mike with a smirk. "I'll hold on to your waist so you don't go for a swim."

"That was close to 10 years ago," said Captain Dad. "I doubt he's still alive and if he is, you can bet he's close to 60 pounds. Probably just laying on the bottom like a log." He looked at me. "But if he was to be caught, you've got the right kind of lure."

As if on cue my line shot out. I grabbed the pole and turned off the clicker.

"Are you snagged?" asked Jim.

"Nope, definitely a fish and a big one," I yelled back, struggling to keep hold of my pole.

The fish jumped out of the water. My mouth gapped open as I studied the walleye the size of a small shark.

"It's Ol' Willie!" Captain Dad yelled, kicking the boat into reverse as Ol' Willie made a run for it. "Hold on!"

The pole lunged forward slamming me into the back of the boat. I thought I was going over before two strong arms grabbed my waist. Looking over my shoulder, I gave my husband a weak smile of "thanks" before focusing my attention back to Ol' Willie.

"What do I do, Dad?" I yelled.

"Any time there's slack, reel as hard as you can. Your line won't break but your poll might." He turned causing slack. "If you go in, let go of the pole. You can buy me a new one. But don't go in!"

I glanced at Mike. "You're not going in," he assured me.

Ol' Willie jumped again, so close to the boat a wave threatened to capsize us. "Reel!" Captain Dad yelled.

So I did.

For the next two hours we played tug-of-war with the giant walleye. My arms burned and my fingers started locking up. A blister pulsed just below my belly button where the end of the pole was locked in place. Mike kept his sturdy hands around me, as Jim stayed ready with the net. Captain Dad foresaw every move Ol' Willie made, keeping us in pace with the monster.

The line suddenly grew limp. "He's off," I said relaxing my arms. "The line's totally slack. He must've broken it."

"No way," Captain Dad threw the boat into neutral. "Keep reeling, that line couldn't have broken."

"Maybe you should take over?" I said, turning to Mike.

"It's your fish," Captain Dad stated, "and you're gonna bring him in."

I started reeling again, certain my arms were going to fall off, but thankful that the line was limp. Just then Ol' Willie came soaring right for us. He crashed into the center of the boat, cracking it down the center. Jim flew to the left as the rest of flew to the right.

I grabbed the side of the boat as water came rushing in a notable absence around my waist. Where was Mike? Jim scrambled to put his life vest on as the port side of the boat drifted away from us, but still no Mike.

"Mike!" I screamed.

Soon he surfaced from the water near Jim, climbing onto the port side wreckage. I released the breath I'd unknowingly been holding. "I'm ok," yelled Mike, grabbing the oars from the port side cubby. "We'll go for help."

I turned to see where my father was as the line jerked again causing me to swing around. Captain Dad grabbed my waist. "Don't let that son of a bitch go! He wrecked my boat!"

I braced myself on what was left of the aft side of the boat and pulled back. Ol' Willie had made it personal.  "He's not going anywhere."

Gritting my teeth I reeled as hard as I could. Inch by inch, I made ground on Ol' Willie as he pulled our broken boat toward a sand bank.

"You've got to get him in before he hits that bank or we're done!" yelled Captain Dad.

Giving a quick nod, Dad grabbed the pole with me and pulled back as I reeled. I let out a fierce scream as my fingers started to bleed. Ol' Willie was on top of the water now, flopping like a tazed criminal. Captain Dad continued to pull as I reeled the walleye to the side of our broken boat. Letting go of the reel I grabbed Ol' Willie and dragged him into the boat, laughing hysterically.

"We got 'em!"

Captain Dad slumped in the chair and glanced down at the fish. Ol' Willie gulped for water and we both gulped for air. Exhausted Captain Dad donned his fish glove and hook scissors, removing the lure from Ol' Willie's upper lip.

"We don't have a camera," Captain Dad stated. "No one will believe us."

"It ok," I said as I pushed Ol' Willie back into the lake. "A true fish story doesn't need pictures."

 *Some of the names and actual occurrences have been changed in order to protect the innocent.

May or may not be me with Ol' Willie ;o)

Last Man Dancing

The last woman looked at the man and rolled her eyes.  If only she had arrived sooner, she would’ve gotten a decent partner.  The man strutted to her side and raised his eyebrows, “Would you like to dance?”

Stamping on a smile, she nodded.  The music played a waltz and they were soon gliding to the soothing tune.  As he turned her in circle after circle, she couldn’t help but notice his gracefulness.  Being two inches shorter than her and about twice as wide, she was sure he’d be a clumsy ox.  Unable to meet his gaze, she stared at his head, watching the colorful lights bounce around the shiny globe. 

The music switched to a jitterbug and the man began to whirl her around, causing her to giggle.  The more they danced, the harder she laughed.  Who knew she could have so much fun with the last man dancing?

Novel Bites: Dijon Mustard Grilled Pork Chops

I'm very excited about today's Novel Bites, not just because of the mouth-watering Dijon Mustard Pork Chops I'm sharing with you, but today I'm going to share with you the first excerpt of my debut novel, Quail Crossings!

First, a little blurb about Quail Crossings: Tragedy has struck the small town of Knollwood, Texas and Dovie Grant finds herself dealing with the loss of her husband and daughter in the already trying times of The Great Depression.  She knows her father needs help on their struggling farm, Quail Crossings, but isn’t thrilled that he’s hired a young 18 year old boy who’s caring for his three younger siblings.  Surviving her grief, as well as the constant dust storms that plague the plains, will Dovie be able to put her pain aside to care for these children or be forever lost in the darkness of the loss of her family?

Want to read more? Sweet!!

A Bite of Quail Crossings:

Elmer watched his sister storm out of the house, squeal at the sky, and then stomp off in the direction of the barn. He shook his head. She made absolutely no sense to him. Here they were with a warm house, honest work, and good food in their bellies, and she was acting like they were being tortured by giant mutant ants.

Putting the slop bucket back in the shed, Elmer headed out to the orchard with Freckles. He knew James was ready to sell the dogs, but so far they had no takers. He really wanted to show people what his dogs could do, but understood a dog was more of a luxury than a necessity now-a-days. Freckles stuck close to his right side, waiting for a command, but Elmer wasn't in the mood to train today. He was in the mood for an adventure.

He slid the shotgun under his arm and started walking south east from the orchard. He wished he had a shoulder holster like Jack Armstrong. A good adventurer always had his hands free in case he had to wrestle a tiger or bear, or to catch a damsel in distress as she hung from a towering cliff.

He thought of Tiny as his damsel and quickly pushed the thought away. Tiny would never be a damsel in distress. If she was hanging from a towering cliff, she’d just scramble up the side like it was nothing, instead of waiting for some man to catch her. That was one of the reasons he liked Tiny, she was fearless and didn’t mind getting dirty when the occasion called for it.

Elmer heard the soft grunt of a feral pig as Freckles when on point. “Easy boy,” he whispered and held up one hand. The dog released his point, nose twitching. Crouching into a draw Elmer crawled on his belly until he had the creature in his sites. She was nice and plump, but it wasn’t fat that lined her belly, Elmer could tell from taking care of the pigs at Quail Crossings this sow was pregnant.

Freckles inched forward, and Elmer held up his hand. “Not this time, pal. Just wouldn’t be right.” Freckles let out a low gruff, but relaxed his posture.

As the pig rooted off in the opposite direction, Elmer threw his arm out and Freckles took off running after the pig. Elmer knew Freckles wouldn’t get the sow, but he sure would have fun trying. He rolled over on his back and took in the vast sky. Even with an overcast of clouds the sky seemed to go on forever. Elmer wondered if it ever ended. He wondered if the folks in big cities like New York ever saw the sky in its eternity. He wondered if his parents ever looked at the California sky and thought about them. He pushed that thought away too. He doubted his parents gave any of them a second thought. Unlike Evie he had no delusions. He knew their parents had left them for their own selfish reasons.

Elmer heard a rustle behind and rolled over onto his belly expecting to see the Freckles again, but came face to face with a large boar, twice the size of the sow. The pig grunted and stomped a foot. Elmer had heard of feral pig attacks before and didn’t want to have any part of that. He lay very still and thought about what Jack Armstrong would do.

He tightened his grip on the shotgun and slowly released the safety. The pig grunted again and bared its ugly teeth. Elmer knew he’d have just one shot, and if he missed, the boar would be on him like flies to chicken poop.

Raising the gun, he took a deep breath and willed his eyes to stay open this time. He took one more deep breath and pulled the trigger just as the boar barreled down on him. Elmer fought the instinct to cover his ears after the ear splitting shot. The boar fell to the ground.

Still holding the gun, Elmer got to his shaky feet, ears ringing. The pig didn’t move. He kicked it with his boot and again the boar lay still. Thrusting the gun over his head, Elmer let out a triumphant cry. Tonight they’d be feasting on ham.

I really hope y'all enjoyed that bite of Quail Crossings and now onto the food. In honor of Elmer's score we will be having Pork Chops with a Dijon Mustard Butter Sauce.

Dijon Mustard Grilled Pork Chops

4 - 1/2 inch thick bone on Pork Chops

1 stick soft butter or margarine

2 t lemon juice

2 Tbsp Dijon Mustard

1/2 t Paprika

2 green onions minced

salt

pepper

onion salt (not in photo)

Place butter, lemon juice, Dijon mustard, paprika, and green onions into a small bowl.

Mix with fork.

Sprinkle salt, pepper, and onion salt on each side of the uncooked pork chops.

Turn your grill to medium high heat. A little trick I learned from Alton Brown so the chops won't stick; take an old kitchen towel and fold it length wise, then roll it up like a sleeping bag. Pour vegetable oil over the rolled towel. Then using your BBQ tongs brush the oiled towel over the BBQ grate.

Place chops on grill.

Spoon a dollop of butter sauce on each chop.

Smoosh dollop over chop with the back end of the spoon. Be careful of flare ups. Close grill lid.

When butter is completely melted, approximately 5 minutes. Flip the chops and spoon a dollop of butter sauce on the opposite side. Again be careful of flare ups. If they get too bad, turn the heat down. Close grill lid.

Cook for another 5 minutes or until the chop is done all the way through. Remove from grill.

Add sides and enjoy!

Quail Crossings Coming Soon To A Bookshelf Near You!!