Bill took the kids fishing this morning.
I could have gone, but I stayed home to enjoy a couple hours of peace and quiet, and to start catching up on all the blog posts I've been meaning to write this week and haven't.
About 11:00 or so, Bill called to say they'd be leaving in about ten minutes or so, and could I start heating up the charcoal for the grill.
Alex caught a trout.
And apparently just as they were pulling in the lines, Alex's pole got a bite and so then there were two trout.
Bill cleaned them on site there, so all he had to do was rinse them off and slap them on the grill when he got home.
And so today we had fresh caught, fresh cooked trout for lunch, and some rice.
And,
of course,
Julia ate the eyes. All four.
Bill told me the kids were kind of bored there until they got a fish on a line.
They also lost one - it got right up near the shore and then got off.
Bill told Alex to tell me how hard the next fish fought while he was reeling it in.
And this is the picture I took of that epic struggle.
Fishing.
It's not a sport for the faint of heart or the weak of spirit.
"It was hard," he told me through gritted teeth, "but I never gave up!"
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