"That song from middle school pops up and you suddenly remember awkward interactions, and for a fleeting moment recall things that weighed so heavily but today seem so ridiculous and unnecessary. As you grow older the fears that creep in are totally different -- getting fat, going bald, kyphosis. Worse, the realization that we aren't actually immortal."
That's Pete McDonald from the latest Drake. Get you some Drake. It's worth it.
I haven't been fishing much lately. Weekends seemed to be filled with unpacking from the last business trip, doing laundry, reacquainting myself with my wife and sons, packing for the next business trip and heading to the airport. I have been fishless for at least a month. Maybe more. Maybe lots more.
The bummer is that local fishing has been good. Smallmouth are hot on the Housy. The Farmington has settled into its summer mood: miniscule flies to sipping trout in the slow water, euros to aggressive fish in the fast water. Streamers and mice at night have also been reported to be good sport. I've been hanging out at LGA, RDU, ATL, BOS. No sport to be had in the land of tarmacs and jet fumes.