Oh...Woe is Me

Hello again from the nymph-o radio hour. I was going to give my apologies for my silence over the past couple of weeks, but then I realized nobody really cares anyway and those of you that do occasionally read my drivel were probably ready for a vacation anyway. The past couple of weeks have been somewhat enlightening, I have learned that I can no longer stay up playing poker and drinking moonshine till 2 am and then go to work the next day (they do not produce enough goodies headache powders globally for this to be feasible anymore at my age), also I have finally figured out that my wife is really pregnant and I will be a father before you can say shitty diaper (it only took me 8 1/2 months to come to this realization), and that quitting smoking is the worst thing I could possibly do for my usual sunny disposition. Exacerbating my loss of my beloved nicotine, is the fact that over the past two weeks there have been, by my count, at least eight fish pushing 18-22 inches hooked, played, and lost from my boat. The culprits of these egregious actions are various clients and so-called friends (real friends don't horse fish),
"My friend Sean with the one that didn't get away"

but they all share the common trait of crapping the bed when the chips were on the table (clients not as much because they pay, I love you guys...don't forget to book early for the fall pre-spawn...spots are filling up quick...wink). After a tragedy such as this one it really makes you look inward and see who's home. In my case the house has been empty for a while now, but with what little intestinal fortitude I still had left, I formulated a theory. These eight fish lost were not singular randomn acts but instead a karmic conspiracy, on the part of the universe, to dole out the donkey kick to the genitals I so richly deserve for my prior bad acts (they are numerous and gruesome...I won't say I killed a man just to watch him die...but I killed a man just to watch him die). So I went to the chapel looked up at the sky and screamed, "I AM SORRY I TOUCHED YOUR SISTER, RAN OVER YOUR DOG, MADE FUN OF JERRY LEWIS, AND EVEN FOR THAT ONE TIME I PEED IN MURPHY'S SLEEPING BAG...I'M SORRY...JUST MAKE THE MADNESS STOP!"

That seemed to do the the trick because Chris, Ryan and I went to the Watauga yesterday and finally showed those trout that I was not a man to be trifled with.

"This one gave me five solid jumps before he faced the inevetabilty of my awesomeness"

"Just call me Jacques"


The catching was good all day with all of us losing track of just how many were caught.

"One of the numerous small fellas Chris tricked, giving him the title of the Great White Minnow Hunter for all eternity"


Most were taken on soft hackles, sulfur dries, cranefly dries, and other various emerger patterns.

"Big Fish Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner"

"This one made me cry a little...just a little"
Needless to say it was exactly what I needed, and exactly what I was due, damn it (the fried chicken didn't hurt either).

-Nymph-o