Held captive on the boat

The other day I had a great experience...I was held captive on the boat. Let me explain. John called about mid-day to see if we wanted to head out to Harris Lake after I picked up Libby in carpool. Since I had just mentioned going to the lake sometime to Libby the other day, I told him that it sounded like a great idea.

So before I picked Libby up, I packed up what I call my "Mommy" bag. You know the bag with all the little necessities that someone will undoubtedly need on any trip. I packed light jackets, sunglasses, tissues, snacks, etc. Once I got Libby and John got home, we hooked up the boat, grabbed Libby's reel and headed to the lake.

In just a little time we were on the lake and zooming (quite fast, I must say) to our first fishing cove. The fish had other things on their minds...John only caught five and Libby, bless her heart, didn't get a bite. She was pretty diligent in her efforts and had fun nonetheless. She did get hung in the tree and we laughed at her "bird fishing". As I sat all kicked back I happen to think these things: When I'm at home I am pretty much busy ALL the time. Most of you mamas know that there is ALWAYS something that needs doing. As I was laid back in the boat I thought about how I am always doing something and even when I'm "relaxing" I am ever conscious of the things that I SHOULD be doing. But not this day...for this day I was "captive" on the boat and could truly relax because I knew all the work would have to (and could easily) wait. When I left home for the lake I left clothes washing in the washing machine, clothes drying in the dryer, dishes in the dishwasher waiting to be put away, and I put the thawed hamburger back into the frig for one more day. All this would have to wait.

So I was captive on the boat and was happy to be so. I couldn't be doing all those things so I truly relaxed, read my magazine, and watched my two favorite people having fun. I tried to sneak up on Cranes to take their pictures but never could, they always flew away too soon. We all got to see the sunset over the trees. What a wonderful, unplanned afternoon. This reminds me of a quote I read the other day:

"Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are."--Mary Jean Iron

I was country when country wasn't cool

So the other day I'm checking out some young folks "myspace" and read how one girl I sorta know likes to go four-wheeling, likes outdoors, and drives a truck (and proudly tells the "lift" she has on it). Another girl mentions liking to fish and one picture shows her wearing camouflage. Well, this got me to thinking...

I used to tell people I lived in Raleigh, but the "country" part of Raleigh. Most folks out of town didn't get this. (And now things have changed out here). I grew up on as much of a farm as you can get in "Raleigh". Sure I liked the outdoors...especially when I got to spend Saturday mornings putting up electric fences with Daddy, especially when I got to load hay in the late summer afternoons (because it was "cooler" then), especially when I was topping, barning, and sheeting tobacco. (Building character Daddy used to say.) I remember dropping cut potatoes in the hole Daddy dug with a hoe to plant in the garden...stopping for a moment to make a "frog house" with my feet in the dirt. I remember using the hoe to mark how far we could go in the "long jump" in the garden dirt.

I can't count the times I spent fishing. Phil, Laura and I loved going to the hog pen to dig our own worms. Then it was off to Mary Frances' pond, usually with just a cane pole. John probably introduced me to using a fishing rod and beetle spin. We spent many Sunday afternoons down at that pond. I even remember going some after school. Until once I caught a bream in the eye and was traumatized (me, that is) trying to get it out. After that I waited to go when John was there. I always liked how we'd go fishing and lots of folks would end up down there. Cars, trucks, and now golf-carts would be parked in Mary Frances' yard as we fished and visited.

And about trucks...I grew up with trucks. I first learned to drive in Daddy's truck. I remember driving with Daddy to the hog pen to feed. As we left and got to the end of Mary Frances' driveway at the road, I looked at him and he told me to "go on". I pulled out onto the road and drove on the the house ON THE ROAD. I was probably ten years old. Later when Chuck had his big, jacked up truck, I thought it was pretty cool when he had to take me somewhere. And of course there's dating in a truck. I can't imagine John driving anything but a truck. Plus, dating ain't the same unless you're sitting in the middle of the seat next to your man.

Yep, I was country when country wasn't cool. In middle school, my friends didn't even know where Old Stage Road was, much less Panther Branch. Those folks from Heather Hills didn't have a clue about killing hogs or going to school late after taking pigs to the market. They didn't know about 3-wheelers with old fiberglass shells/fenders. I wonder if they ever stayed out playing so late that the crickets singing (or mosquitoes biting) told you it was about time for Mommy to call you inside. While they were riding bikes on sidewalks, I was jumping ramps with my bike on the dirt driveways.

Now who'd think that some of these things would now be cool and talked about on "myspace". Hey, I guess we were "pioneers" to such simple pleasures. Who would have thought that at 38 years old I'd take up deer hunting...well, actually, looking at my past...I guess it was bound to happen. I hope I never change.