Picking up the right lure for the fishing husband, do not try this at home

One of my weekly duties is to go grocery shopping at Wal-Mart. I love Wal-Mart because I can pick up everything there in one stop and for a lot less money than at other stores. But the problem with Wal-Mart is that it also sells fishing equipment. Including hundreds of different types of lures.

As I was ready to leave for my shopping trip, my husband asked if I could pick up a lure for him at Wal-Mart. I knew I was in trouble. But he got me at a weak moment -- keys and shopping list in hand, child in the car. I agreed.

He wrote down the information -- brand, type, etc. Then he described it to me. "It's the one I used to get that big grouper the other week," he started.
 "Huh?" I asked. "I didn't notice."
"Sure, I pointed it out to you. It's got red and purple and a feather on it? I told you it was my favorite," he explained.
Well, yes, I sometimes do go with my husband and child to fish along the shore. But even if I'm holding a pole, I never look at the lure. They're all the same to me.
He finally disappeared into the utility room/tackle shop and emerged with one. "Here," he said. "Take this with you and just get one like it. Exactly like it."

So, list in hand, off I went. I got the groceries I needed and then, with a sigh, headed to the fishing department. As luck would have it, there were no workers around. I was on my own. I started searching the aisle. I found four "exactly" like the one he gave me. Which is the one he wanted?

After about 20 minutes of debating over which lure to buy, I noticed a man further down the aisle looking at lures, so I tried getting help. "Excuse me, please. But which of these lures are exactly like this one?" I asked.

This was no help. He started talking a different language -- fishingese -- asking whether my husband wanted to use it for fresh or salt and what type of line he had and at what speed would the wind be blowing (OK, I made the last question up, but you get the idea). I gave up.
I picked the one I thought matched the lure my husband gave me and headed home.
Of course, it was the wrong one.
I told my husband the next time HE could get his own lures. And crossed "fishing lure" off my shopping list for good. :)

Fishing widow to the rescue!

"Do we have any ammonia?" my breathless husband said on the other end of the phone.
"Huh?" I asked, not knowing what he meant. I was on my way out the door, having a grocery list of items to get before heading to back-to-back child birthday parties with our son. For my husband, that meant he had a day to himself. Because, he explained, he wasn't expected to attend the birthday parties. So, while I was off having my fun of finding two thoughtful gifts, cards and wrapping paper before heading off to more fun of squealing children, pizza lunches, bounce houses and cake, he was getting his fishing kayak loaded into the truck.

A free day for him.

My husband has the uncanny ability to know the precise moment when I am ready to head out the door. Because, if he is out fishing, that is when he usually calls me. I think it makes him feel less guilty if he checks in from time to time.

This morning was no exception. After I spent the past 15 minutes hurrying our child to get socks and shoes on his feet and was about to leave, the phone rang. Of course, it was my husband, calling from his kayak.

"Do we have any ammonia?" he asked.

"I don't know, why?"

"I got stung by a catfish," he said. "I need it to take out the sting."

From a city girl's perspective, that sounded pretty bad. I have to admit, I never realized that catfish could sting anyone. But apparently the slime on their spines can stick into a person like a needle. These are saltwater catfish, annoying to the Florida fisherman because you can't eat them and they usually take your bait when you're trying to get snook or some other good fish.

When these catfish sting, it hurts, and it can cause an infection if not treated right away. My husband was ready to head into his truck and drive himself back to the house. This, after telling me he felt a little dizzy. I had never encountered this before. In the 12 years I've known him, he's never been stung before.

"No," I said. "Wait there, I'll bring what I can."

I corralled my child into the car, armed with alcohol. I couldn't find ammonia. When I found him, he was applying chewing tobacco to the sting, which didn't look nearly as badly as I imagined it would look.

"That's disgusting. When did you start using that?" I sneered, annoyed at the stuff he was putting into his mouth.

"But this is the best thing for stings like this. You should be grateful I had it with me," he protested.

I had to admit, the tobacco seemed to take the sting out, and helped stop the bleeding and swelling. So, I was grateful -- a little. I still was grossed out when he started spitting. Yuck!

I drove him back home and took him to the store for some ammonia, trying not to look at the clock and sigh at how far off my schedule I was now.

When we got back home, he said he was feeling better. I could go about my day,  he said.

But first, could I please drive him back to his fishing spot so he could go back out on the water?

Yes, like a true supportive fishing widow, I took him back so he could finish his day of fishing. Sigh.

Don't forget the date -- hunting dates to remember in Florida!

When you are married to a hunter, there are a few dates that should be in the forefront of your brain at all times. I'm not talking about your wedding anniversary or birthdays. No, all good hunting widows always should know when their spouses need to put in for hunting permits. Do not forget these dates. Because if your husband relies on public hunting grounds to set up his tree stands, and if your husband does not put in for hunting wildlife management permits, your husband's entire hunting season is ruined. At least, that's the way it is in Florida.

You can be your man's heroine forever if you save his hunting season. For those in Florida, the state Fish and Wildlife Commission has changed times for hog hunts. See here for those dates. Basically, hog hunters have until April 12 to get in their requests for special hog hunts. With the FWC rule that hunting permits aren't transferable (meaning he can't get a permit from his buddy), it's crucial hog hunters put in for their permits now.

Permit drawing for deer hunting isn't until June.

Putting in for hunting permits is a lot more simplified than it used to be. When I first met my husband, hunting permits had to be mailed to the state on special forms you picked up at the tag office. Apparently the state discounted any form that had smudges or wasn't filled out perfectly because my husband used to get about 100 of these speical forms in case he made a mistake. I sometimes wondered if he dated me only because of my handwriting, because every season he always asked me to fill out his forms. Seriously, he spent more time and was more anal about these forms than he was about addressing our wedding invitations.

Once, I was put in charge of mailing these precious forms. Somehow, I accidentally dropped some of these forms in between my car seat. My husband had a serious meltdown when he checked online and his forms hadn't been received yet. "Did you mail them?" he asked. This was our first major fight. "Of course I mailed them," I retorted, hurt that he didn't trust me over what I considered a trivial matter -- we hadn't been married very long, so I was a bit naive. We checked my car. When my husband found the unmailed envelopes with the permit applications in behind the seat, I swear I thought I was heading for divorce court. He was that mad. He considered driving up to hand-deliver the applications, but realized he still had some time. My marriage was saved when he got his first-choices that year anyway. Whew!

Once drawing results were announced a few months later, our phone then would start ringing. And ringing.
"What you get?" his hunting buddies would ask him. Then would begin an hour-long discussion on what hunts he had permits for and what ones he needed, and what kind of a trade could be had. If my husband were out, sometimes they would ask me. "So, what did he get?" It took me a few times to figure out what they were talking about. Most of the time, I would just play dumb because I really didn't want to start talking about hunting permits with my husband's hunting buddies.

Now, with the new non-transferable rule, the calls don't come. My husband can't trade permits with his friends. If he doesn't get the hunts he wants, he mopes around for days. And complains about it with his friends. Putting in for hunting permits is a lot easier, though. Everything is done on the Internet. Just fill out the forms online and you're done. My writing hand is grateful to the state for that.