The fishing was good; it was the catching that was bad


More than one person braves Indiana elements to go ice fishing
I have one question: “Why go fishing in sub-zero weather and how do you know that the ice won’t break?” Okay, that’s two questions.
My brother-in-law went ice fishing and wanted my husband to tag along. In some years, conditions allow for only one week of ice fishing in central Indiana.
My husband opted not to go ice fishing. Although he agrees there is no better food than fresh bluegill, he decides against ice fishing. Some people shudder at the thought of wind chill.
On this Friday afternoon, the brother-in-law would be standing on the edge of a small pond nestled in the rolling hills about seven miles out of Linton. There was only a faltering whimper of wind. The sun was dingy in the dreary sky. The noise of the city was far away.
The rumor in town was that there was some real good fishing and obviously it was true. In just over an hour he would catch nearly a dozen bluegills. His German Shepherd scrambled from hole to hole, keeping his eye on what was coming out.
The nice thing about ice fishing is that it doesn’t take expensive equipment. Just a little five dollar ice fishing rod and some thin fishing line. Some fishermen, who are more elaborate, bring portable huts equipped with heaters onto the ice.
My brother-in-law says that sometimes you can’t help but get excited about what you’re doing. You see geese flying over, or see a deer out looking for food. It can be snowing, sleeting, the wind blowing and it doesn’t bother you at all. Gee, this from a couch potato.
His wife states that ice fishing cures his cabin fever.
In this tiny corner of central Indiana, cabin fever is on the decline. The sale of tartar sauce is rising.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Happy Holidays

The fascination of the holiday season is that Christmas is a time to treasure all the magical events of the past and hope for the joy of the future.
For my family, the most favorable memories that relate with the holiday are childhood memories. We also share the memories of our loved ones no longer with us.
There was great uncle Mount, who would come for Christmas dinner and then give each of the children a two dollar bill. My Aunt Edith would always stop by soon after we had finished our meal. She would say she didn’t come to eat but she filled the plate that my mother would get her. She would then tell of how many other houses she had visited that day.
Remembering the holiday season of past years, we clearly shared happy times. Our family gathered around the dinner table. A snowman stood outside the living room window. Giggles coming from the back room as the young children were busy playing games. Happy voices filled each room. The scent of the fresh evergreen tree blended in with the kitchen smell of freshly baked pecan pie.
I will always have the memory of the holidays with my parents. They knew the spirit of love and goodwill. There was the Christmas morning I ran to see my easy bake oven on which there was a typed note. It said simply: “Have your daddy finish putting this together … Santa is in a hurry.”
In our house, we will make this holiday season another joyous year–one to join the memories of holidays past.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What’s In A Nickname ??

 


As friends relived old times during the course of last evening the subject of nicknames arose. So, I started scribbling them down — which is basically what I intended to build this column around.
I went to school with Carla whose nickname was Hurricane. While in grade school, there was an actual Hurricane that made the headlines in Texas called Hurricane Carla. She brought the newspaper to school and everyone called her Hurricane from then on.
Moose got his nickname while playing high school football. A nickname the coach gave him. What if the coach hadn’t liked his players? What other animals would he have used? A weasel perhaps?
Tiny, was a kid in high school who stood over six feet five inches. Yes he was the tallest kid in school and played center on the basketball team.
One friend has the least original nickname ever. He has natural red hair and his nickname is “Red”. My friend Charlotte goes by the nickname Char. Simple idea really, like we don’t have to use both syllables when we call her name.
At times, nicknames make perfect sense and sometimes they do not.
My cousin’s name is William and he goes by the name Will.
Yet another cousin, Michael, answers to the nickname Ronnie.
Go Figure.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hospital Bed

If you’re like me, you have trouble some days getting into the groove. Try spicing up the conversation around the office.
At the office today, the topic around the water cooler was: If you were recuperating in a hospital, who would you want in the bed next to you, excluding relatives?
Naturally, Bob the single guy in the office opted for Beyoncé. Melody, the only single woman, mentioned Kenny Chesney.
Danny’s answer was intriguing as he mentioned Captain Smith from the ship Titanic. They could discuss the grandeur of the ship and find out what really happened.
Myrna’s answer was unique. She would like The Dutchman. Maybe in his sleep he would mention if there really was a mine and its location. Carla mentioned she would pick a Kardashian. Think of all the odd visitors they might have.”
Larry’s answer was unlike anyone else in the office. He wanted no one in the bed beside him. “When I don’t feel well, I don’t want anyone near me!” In contrast, Dianna wanted Marsha who is her best friend.
Gary and Judy’s answers were distinctive, making more than one person roll their eyes. Gary would love to talk to Richard Nixon all night, while Judy could jabber with her mother-in-law.
Norman wanted to talk sports with Bob Costas, while Murl would want to visit with Babe Ruth.
Gary’s choice was Al Capone or Jimmy Hoffa. Interesting yet I’d question if I would feel comfortable closing my eyes at night.
To the question, “Who would you want in the hospital bed beside you?” Richard was quick to answer. “I’d have Donald Trump. Think of all the beautiful Russian ladies that will be there when President Putin stops by.”
Now that’s an all together different subject.

 

 

 

 

The Power of 4-H

The power of 4-H. For those who fall in the category of thinking 4-H is just about agriculture and raising animals, you do not know the whole story. In Indiana, only about thirty percent of the total enrollment comes from farms, the rest from urban areas.
4-H is a chance for youth to handle responsibility, learn new things and work hard to achieve goals. The primary benefits of 4-H are leadership, citizenship and the opportunity for youth to learn things of interest at their own ability level.
Last year’s most popular projects were: Crafts, Foods, Photography, and Clothing. There are over fifty projects ranging from Aerospace to Creative Writing. All projects include hands-on activities and the manuals are being continuously updated.
My nephew opted to take The Horseless Horse Project. This allows him to learn all aspects of the animal, without the tremendous cost that comes with owning and caring for a horse. He attended the Horse Club meetings, did posters and filled out his workbooks. It was an especially great project for him as he couldn’t at this time own a horse. He wants to be a horse racing jockey.
A few years ago—more years than I would like to admit—I was in 4-H and have a few blue ribbons in the closet to prove it. I remember the Action Demonstration Project. It allowed members to compete in a certain category without having to be judged against other entries. I stood and gave my demonstration on the steps required to make a pie, but never actually put the finished pie product in competition. I was judged for the demonstration and not for the pie. Maybe that was a good thing. I doubt if I would have won any ribbons on my pie.
The 4-H program provides a learning environment for the youth of the community. They can test their skills with various projects and animals. Like this year’s motto proclaims, you must experience “The Power of 4-H” for yourself to truly understand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

………..Truths ……….

There is no truth to the rumor that my family is taking bets at how much weight I gained after vacation. However; it is true that there is something about eating at quaint restaurants on the road.
There is no truth to the rumor that when I saw my neighbor coming I said “Here comes the neighbor and she’s bringing more zucchinis”. Yes, one zucchini vine does produce a great deal of the vegetable. Thank you, we have had enough zucchini for this year.
There is truth to the rumor that cucumbers can keep the bees away. At the Greenwood Festival a booth had bowls of sliced cucumbers around and they were never bothered by the bees. Since the bees are extremely bad this year – you can sit outside only if you hold a bowl of cucumbers.
No, I do not believe there is any truths to the rumor that chewing gum will help get rid of gophers or moles. My sister’s back yard is over-wrought with mole mounds. She is busy setting traps while coworkers suggests that chewing gum (and it must be Juicy Fruit) will kill the moles. They say moles can’t digest it and they will die. More than likely the gum gets on their little dentures and they can’t chew any longer.
There is truth to the rumor that I could use another week of vacation. I, along with many Americans, are discovering that there is a name to this post-vacation feeling. It’s called “I need another week to recover syndrome.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

…………. The “M” word …………

 

These past winter months, I noticed unusual bits and pieces in my daily life. My knees and sometimes my elbows ache. Some mornings my shoulder blade feels like it is on fire.
I told my husband one morning and he said simply, “Oh, it’s probably arthritis.”
“What?” I said. “My much older sister suffers from arthritis…not me.”
“So what’s your point?” He said with a smile.
I have noticed since last winter that my body has shifted. I have discovered a couple more changes. My hips are getting wider and higher.
I’m being obsessed with my hands. I examine my arms for liver spots. I’m afraid my hands will suddenly look like my great aunt Mona’s. Her hands looked like chopped corn flakes attached to flabby arms.
In the office yesterday, I noticed my toes were doing this strange curl up and spasm. I had to stop, remove my shoe and massage my toes and ankle.
I had a case of spring fever so I went shopping. Standing in front of the dressing room mirror I discovered a couple more changes. I think I’m looking more and more like a peanut covered M & M.
I left, stopping by the local fast food restaurant. Perhaps the afternoon out would do the trick to lift my spirits.
Then it happened suddenly, with no warning whatever! I was minding my own business in the food lane, waiting at the counter for my fries when it happened. The “M” word.
“Here’s your change, Ma’am!” chirped some freckle-face kid who didn’t look old enough to count change, let alone have a job.