I have a pack of kids in for the holidays and we play and have a great time, weather is nice that week and although we'd talked about hitting some private water, the day planned blows like a nor'easter and we end up laying over in Asheville for shoe shopping (girls) and gear shopping (boys) instead of casting. My kids ask how JB and his family are doing, "Uh, I don't know- one of them got married I think...." "Don't you like text each other every day?" "well ya, but we don't really talk about family and work and stuff.."
There in lies the tell, if they are astute enough to see it! We are brothers of the trout, brothers of the hike, brothers of the gear and everything required for minor and major adventures in the out of doors and the rest of our lives are generally left to our own devises. A few more years and maybe the Mule will learn that. It's not that we don't care (especially if these things get in the way of a trip) it's just that we got bigger fish to fry honey! And the winter dog days bring that into crystal clear focus. So, like two sports talk guys debating the most inane aspects of weather Kyrie Irving is more important to the Cavs than LeBron, Pablo and I thoroughly vet equally important issues during our dog days (and most other days as well).
Well.... I lost my train of thought- I'm certain I had some provocative and creative way to tie this into some Hemingesque narrative, but it's gone! Probably the same dribble I always deduct and conclude in these dog day ramblings- so just go read anything from Jan- February the last ten years. I just got to write, it's cheaper therapy than buying gear I don't need and I get fewer snorts from the wifey than watching video's of trips gone by. So, as old Hemingway himself said, "there is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed"
Bleeding feels good when it snows.
Bleeding feels good when it snows.