So how much does this hunting and fishing cost, really?

I'm not a big spender on clothes or trinkets, I don't believe. Yet, every now and then, I'll go to lunch with a friend or stop at the mall to pick up a new skirt. I don't spend a bunch of money -- I'm usually saving for a family vacation, or the rainy day (in Florida, they're known as hurricanes). But still, the husband seems to always need to know how much things cost and how much I spent.

It didn't really bother me until I started noticing that every time we go to Wal-Mart to shop for food and necessities, there always seems to be a fishing plug or bait or line or something related to hunting and fishing in our cart. I started looking at the receipts. They don't cost a lot -- $5 or $6 on a plug, for instance -- when you look at it individually. But we end up at Wal-Mart sometimes 2-3 times a week. That's about $15 just on plugs. When you add in hooks - we go through a lot of those also it seems -- and bait, that adds up after a while.

And that's just fishing. The Cabela's boxes are starting to pile up outside our front door these days, as hunting season starts here.

My husband tries to explain that with these items he is able to provide his family with fresh fish and deer/hog meat. But, I think we're starting to pay more for this fresh food than what the supermarket charges, when you add in all the costs. And he doesn't get something every time he goes out there.

I've never quite understood WHY my husband even needs to get all this stuff. I swear he has about 10 tackle boxes filled with equipment, and could probably fill another 10 just with stuff lying around the house and garage. I think he keeps a pole and a tackle box in his truck just in case he gets a few minutes to go to the beach to cast a line. Of course, that's when he's NOT at Wal-Mart.

In Which the Fisherman Takes His Pride and Joy Out On the Boat, and Said Pride Gets Seasick

My husband is an outdoorsy kind of guy. He loves to fish and hunt, and will do so every chance he gets. But he's also a great dad, despite my complaining on this blog. And he's been waiting a long time until he felt our son was ready to go fishing in a real boat.

We've been married 10 years, and I don't think a week  has gone by since that time that my husband has wished for a boat. About a year ago, he finally bought a used one we could afford. He worked on it every night he could to make sure it was shipshape for his family. He would take our son out fishing on the shore to teach him and prepare him for the day we finally would go out on the ocean.

We went out last week for the first time together. My husband was so excited. He spent the night before packing and unpacking and rearranging the tackle box he would take on the boat with his son, his pride and joy. He carefully selected four fishing rods from his cache -- yes, four, because you can't go with just one each -- for him and the child to use. He packed fresh sandwiches, water, soda, chips and ice in a cooler and put it in the boat himself. We were ready for a long excursion that day.

The ocean was calm when we set out. Hardly any waves at all. We saw sea turtles swimming along, and dolphins in the distance. It was going to be a great day.

And then, 20 minutes into the day, it happened.

"Mom, I don't feel well," the 7-year-old whined.

"What's the matter?" I asked the child who loves roller coasters and spinning rides at the carnival without so much as a tummy ache.

"I don't know. My stomach hurts. Can we go home?" he whined again.

I glanced at my husband, who looked crushed. All his dreams of going boating and fishing with his son were going away. It was sad to see.

I tried to get the child to reconsider. "Maybe you just need to sit down instead of bouncing around," I suggested.

He did, but five minutes later, it was back to the now-familiar whines and threats of throwing up that morning's breakfast.

Our day out was over just like that. My husband said nothing, just turned the boat around as the child curled in my lap and just whimpered.

He was fine as soon as we got back on land, laughing and giggling as usual. My husband, however, was not. He was strangely quiet when we got home and he put his fishing gear away.

"Maybe we ought to sell the boat," he said quietly that night after the child went to bed.

I told him to hold off on doing anything drastic just yet. Maybe we'll take it a little slower next time. And maybe someday, when my son is a little older and has logged a few more sea miles, father and son will be able to sit in a boat together and fish.

OK, so I'm secretly hoping. Because then I'd be off the hook for the day, and I can send them both out for a little day off by myself.