Friday, March 05, 2010

PONDERISMS as sent to me from my nephew Chris

I used to eat a lot of natural foods until I learned that most people die of natural causes.

Gardening Rule: When weeding, the best way to make sure you are removing a weed and not a valuable plant is to pull on it. If it comes out of the ground easily, it is a valuable plant.

The easiest way to find something lost around the house is to buy a replacement.

Never take life seriously. Nobody gets out alive anyway.

Life is sexually transmitted.

Health is merely the slowest possible rate at which one can die.

Health nuts are going to feel stupid someday, lying in hospitals dying of nothing.

How is it one careless match can start a forest fire, but it takes a whole box to start a campfire?

Do illiterate people get the full effect of Alphabet Soup?

Why doesn't glue stick to the inside of the bottle?
My nephew Chris, is one smart cookie. He loves to read, laugh, be a terrific husband and father to his children.

When he was a kid before he and his family moved to BC we spent a lot of time together. I taught him how to fish. I taught him how to dig up worms for fishing. Big fat juicy ones. I taught him how to put them on the pickerel rigs. I took him fishing almost every weekend. Once he caught on how to catch the fish, he became competitive. Suddenly auntie Joanie balonie was no longer the teacher but the enemy. Every weekend it was "game on." Let's see who catches the biggest fish of the day. We had a rule.. that yellow belly cat fish were not in the mix. They were just gross.

Nobody wanted to eat them. So everything else that came out of the river was a contender. Even Carp....and real cat fish and bass and Pickerel. When my Mom and Dad were alive Chris was with us a lot of the time and we used to have a .25 cent bet for the first fish caught after we threw in our lines. But, it couldn't be a yellow belly cat fish...or a boot from some guy that drowned in the river.

When we got to the "Spot" as we used to call the part of the river we fished.
Chris...being his competitive self raced to the banks of the Red River and baited his hooks, threw in his lines and waited while we old folks set up our coolers, camping chairs, beer and our fishing equipment. The kid wanted to win.

He was a good fisherman. My dad always said the the art of fishing was patience, and Chris was. Most kids get frustrated and start whining if they don't get a nibble. Not Chris. There was .25 cents on the line and his rep. And mostly he wanted to beat me because I was always on his ass trying to beat him.

We still argue about who was the best fisherperson...but I think it would be me...heh

When he sent this tonight I just started to remember stuff.... and wow....

It was a lovely time in those days.

Love you Fish...and I dare you comment about how many more fish you caught than I did.


Brenda said...

The ponderisms are great and so were the stories of you and your fishing buddy. Zach loves to fish too and I'm happy that he does. A fisherman is a fine thing to be!

Donna said...

I Never learned to fish...Dad always worked and Mom kept the homestead going. Bet it was a blast...
Happy weekend Joan!
(Sounds like a Fun Nephew!)