Husbands...and less

I have seen not so much of my husband since Thursday. He has decided to become a fisherman and is currently fishing up in the Northern areas. I thought that when he cracked, it would be hunting that he would want to take up, but apparently fishing it will be.

When a man goes up to the Northern areas, they take eggs, bread and fishing poles.

You know...to catch the fish. With the poles.

Have they ever caught a fish before? Naw.
Have they ever cleaned a fish before? Naw.
Have they ever bought a fish before...well, certainly!
Oh yeah, and of course they have read about how to clean a fish before. So that works.

Needless to say they are tired of egg sandwiches.


And here I sit with five lovely well behaved, well mannered children on a cold wet rainy Minnesota day. I am choosing to use this time pretending that I am already living in Portland and it is November. It's sort of working. kinda

I feel inspired to write a poem:

Oh great and wonderful rainy cold day
You make my five children want to play
Footsie and "we sorta bite but it doesn't hurt" games
"You bit me too hard" and "she called me names"
"Well your foot went to far into my side
and it hurt" and "it's your fault" and "nuh-uh, she lied"

Don't wake the babies
Don't wake the babies.
Don't wake the babies!
Don't wake the babies!!
Don't wake the babies!!!

I'll get a towel.