Sometimes, it's not so bad being a fishing widow in Florida. Tagging along when your husband goes fishing at sundown means you get to see views like this. This was taken at the north side of the Sebastian Inlet. The fish were biting -- don't ask me what kind, I never can tell the difference between a blue fish and a flounder -- so my son and I walked around a little while my husband cast his line in the water. The scenery was beautiful. And I got some ideas from other fishing widows. One woman looked content as she read a book in a comfortable folding beach chair that had its own covering to keep out the sun and rain. She sat beside her husband who had about a dozen fishing poles on the jetty. Another woman was being taught how to cast a line by her significant other. And then there were others like me who were armed with cameras taking pictures of the sights.

So, if there are other fishing widows out there reading these words, what do you think? Do you go out fishing with your husband? What do you do when you're tagging along with him?

Shopping with the hunter/fisherman -- he'll be in the "toy" department, that means sporting goods

When I was a kid, my brothers and I didn't mind going to the department store with my mom. As soon as we entered the front door, we'd say in unison, "Mom, can we meet you at the toys?" Then we would skedaddle off to meet up with the 50 or so other kids in the toy department to oogle at the cool toys we could only get from Santa. Of course, that was before the sex offenders started stalking the toy departments making such activities no longer safe for children. At least, those under the age of 18.

My husband, apparently, also headed off to the toy department when he was a kid. Trouble is, he never outgrew this. He still says, as soon as we walk in the front doors of Wal-Mart, to the Mom in the group, "I'll meet you in the toys." Of course, he doesn't mean toys. He means the sporting goods department, where his toys are now fishing lures, hunting gadgets, and assorted items. He doesn't always buy anything, most of the time he just looks. It's sad when the sporting goods department staff -- all of them -- know him by first name.

While he is off chatting with other fisherman, hunters or whoever else wanders aimlessly into his vicintiy, I have to do the shopping alone with our young son. About 20 minutes into our shopping trip, he'll wander over to find us and say, "You ready to go yet?" If I say no, he'll wonder what I've been doing and why I haven't managed to fill the shopping list yet.

Other times, I have to go find him. I usually don't have to do much searching. I know right where to look, and he's usually talking with someone about hunting, fishing, the Florida he remembers as a kid before it got over-developed and where his last fishing trip was.

Then, just like my mom did when I was a child, I have to drag him out of the store.

What to do on nights/weekends/afternoons you turn into a fishing or hunting widow

My husband fully disclosed his love for fishing and hunting when we were dating. It was a bit of a shock, I had never known any hunters outside of the movies. I don't think I really understood what it meant. When you're dating, having a few nights off here and there to do your own thing is good, healthy even. A lot of my husband's hunts back then coincided with my visits with parents or holidays. So, I didn't notice.

Once we got married, his absence became more noticeable. And at first, I was lonely while he was off hunting with his buddies, or fishing for the weekend.

But I learned to adapt. While I was invited to come along most of the time, there were those "serious" hunts where no women were allowed. I actually started looking forward to those weekends as a chance to have "me" time. I'd rent those sappy romantic movies that my husband hated and equip myself with special ice cream or cake and some wine. As soon as I could get our son to sleep, I'd settle in for a quiet night all to myself. OK, some might see this as pathetic, but for me, it was peaceful.

I didn't realize how much I enjoyed these nights until the one night when I had just settled down to watch "Ever After" and had my bowl of strawberry cheesecake ice cream while lavender candles quietly burned. Suddenly, my husband burst into the room, extinguishing the candles and replacing the soothing lavender scent with pine and campfire smoke.

"What are you doing here?" I shrieked. "Aren't you supposed to be hunting?"

"It's pouring rain at camp," he said, a hint of disgust in his voice. (I couldn't tell if it was because of the rain that ruined the hunt or because I wasn't really ecstatic to see him.) "The hunt's ruined, and I figured I might as well come home and be with you guys."

He seemed hurt that I didn't jump up and greet him with kisses. But I was a little disappointed, something that surprised me as well. I guess I didn't realize how much I had come to enjoy my time alone. And that maybe it wasn't so bad to be a hunting widow at times, at least when I have a romantic movie and ice cream to keep me company.

Oh, that night, I shared my ice cream with my husband. And he watched the movie with me. He didn't even complain once.

A Florida Fishing and Hunting website with information about Florida outdoors

Looking for a website that has information about fishing and hunting, the two sports that occupy 90 percent of our spouses' minds, but also has information about other Florida outdoors recreation? Check out http://www.floridalegendsoutfitters.com/.  Florida Legends Outfitters is a great resource for Florida outdoors recreation, fishing, hunting, kayaking, birdwatching, hiking, Florida state parks and diving.

So, while your spouse is looking to go on yet another Florida fishing or hunting trip, you can be planning a Florida vacation of your own!

Florida is a big fishing state. If you live in another part of the country, chances are your husband might some day suggest heading to the Sunshine State for a fishing vacation. When this happens, send me a note here -- I'll help you plan your own activities, either as a family or alone. Believe me, I've planned plenty of side trips and activities around hunting season and fishing trips.

Florida wild hogs don't climb trees, do they?

You would have thought that my first experience of going into the woods while pregnant would have taught me not to do it again. But, I don't learn that quickly. Because a few weeks after nearly being struck by lightning while five months pregnant, my husband asked me for help again. He needed to scout out an area he thought would be good to find wild hogs. Off we went to the wildlife management area to go hiking in the woods once again.

This time, I thought, I won't overdo it. I was six months pregnant now, a lot heavier and more prone to exhaustion. So after walking to the general area my hunting husband was considering, and then back to another spot, before returning to the first location, I told my husband I needed rest. I sat down underneath the nearest tree and told him to come get me when he was ready.

My husband was gone about five minutes when I heard the noise. It was a heavy breathing sound, kind of like what a prank caller would make. I had never heard this sound before, but I instinctly knew what it was -- a wild hog somewhere in the bushes.

I remembered my husband telling me once that wild hogs don't like singing. So I started belting out "Twinkle, twinkle little star," the only song I could think of at the last minute. But the sound kept coming, louder and louder, making me think the hog was heading my way.

I called out for my hunting husband, knowing he would help me. But he must have been out of hearing range, because he didn't come.

Now, I was scared. Then I thought of something else my husband once told me. Wild hogs can't climb trees. The tree I sat underneath had a spot that looked like I could use to climb out of the hog's reach, should one come out from the bushes. But I wanted to be ready. So, I tried to lift my leg to get my foot in that spot. Under normal circumstances, I might have managed. But, being six months pregnant, I wasn't at my tree-climbing best.

The sound continued. I tried signing louder as I again struggled to get into the tree. It didn't work. I swore I would never again go into the woods until after the baby was born. Then, I heard the crunching sound of leaves. Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!

I knew it was the hog. So, I turned to the tree and lifted my leg, holding my protruding belly and scrambled up to the foothold in the tree.

Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!
The sound was getting louder. I braced myself, now halfway up the trunk of the tree. I looked up and wondered how high I would need to get, and how fast I could climb the tree if the hog emerged.
I scanned the bushes anxiously.

The crunching sound turned out to be my husband. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to kill or hug him when he came out of a cluster of trees, with an amused grin on his face when he saw his pregnant wife up a tree.

"What are you doing?" he laughed. "You look ridiculous."

"There was a hog in the bushes," I gushed. "I heard it breathing, and I was scared, so I climbed the tree so the hog wouldn't get me and the baby. You told me hogs can't climb trees."

My husband was laughing so hard now large tears rolled down his cheeks.
"I didn't mean for you to climb a tree!" he choked out. "That hog was probably more scared of you than you were of it."

About a month later, my doctor detected high blood pressure and pre-toxemia (gee, I wonder what caused that?) He put me on immediate bed rest, which thankfully ended my woods hiking trips for a few months.

Following my Florida fishing and hunting husband into the woods, in the rain, while pregnant

When we first got married, my fishing and hunting husband would ask me to go into the woods before the start of every hunting season to help him set up tree stands and scout out hunting spots. Even though the woods scared me because of all the creepy and crawling things that lived in trees and on the ground, I willingly agreed. I considered our trips out to the Florida wildlife management area where my hunting spouse lived most of his life during hunting season as our weekends away.

Until the year I was pregnant came, that is. Then, well, it wasn't so fun.

But come the start of hunting season, my husband asked if I would help him. Not to carry anything, he insisted. But just to keep him company. This was from the same man who, within the first hour of me telling him I was pregnant and him celebrating, said, "This isn't going to affect my hunting season, is it? I've got hunts around that time."

Determined not to let the birth of our first child to ruin hunting season, I agreed. And out we tromped into the woods. The "not having to hold anything" turned out to mean me dragging half a tree stand and a backpack with water. Granted, he carried the rest, plus a chain to hold it together and keep it safe.

The mile  hike turned out to be a little much for me, since I was carrying a little extra weight from being six months into the pregnancy. I slumped against the tree as he set up the stand, barely able to hand him various parts of the stand and equipment as he got higher into the tree.

Then the lightning started. I warily eyed the strikes off in the distance and heard the rumbling, as the sky grew darker and darker. I asked my husband if he was almost ready because I thought we should get back to the truck before it started raining.

He struggled with the lock and chain before declaring us ready to go back. But our time was out. It started to sprinkle, then drizzle. About halfway back to the road, we walked into a torrential downpour, complete with lightning and thunder.

My husband started running. "Come on, hurry," he shouted. "We don't want you to get sick."

Water tricked down my hair, on to my nose and in my eyes, as I walked quickly. I couldn't run, I was too tired, and I was afraid I would trip and fall. I started crying. Then I got mad at myself for being such a wimpy city girl and cried even more.

As I sobbed and walked along the now muddy path, I stopped worrying about snakes. All I could think was that I was going to get sick from the rain or get struck by lightning and the baby was going to be hurt from it.

"I'm so sorry, Baby," I cried, rubbing my stomach. "I'm sorry you have a stupid mommy who followed your  stupid hunting daddy into the woods when it was raining."

I started counting, thinking it would help me get there quicker. "OK, 1,2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, just a few more seconds Baby, hold on, hold on. Mommy is almost there."

We did make it back to the truck without incident. And my dear hunting husband quickly grabbed his clean, dry clothes for me to wear and he turned on the heater in the truck. He kept apologizing all the way to Olive Garden.

My Florida fisherman's having an affair. This Florida fishing and hunting widow is ready to go shopping!

My husband left me this morning for his first true love. I knew he was leaving. He made no secret of the fact that he was packing to go. I saw him as he spent the night before packing his gifts to bring to his real passion. First, he got his suitcase. Some may refer to it as a tackle box, but I know better. Then, he filled it with the jewelry he would need to attract his love. Some call them lures. All I know is that they were pretty -- bright pinks and purples with feathers, gold hooks and silver spoons. He then spent hours winding line on his reel, which apparently is serious work necessary to catch his big one. It was too time-consuming to read his child a bedtime story because he was so involved in this job.
He was at least open about the fact he was leaving again. He had everything spread out on the kitchen floor as he ignored the overflowing garbage can and clogged sink to painstakingly choose just the right lures and line.
Then he left at 5 a.m., with the biggest grin on his face in anticpation of his date. I couldn't help but think that I have to scream and nag to get him up at 8 a.m. to come to church with us, but he will rise before dawn just to put a line in the water.
My husband eventually returned to me, hours later, having been rejected this time by his love. Other times he has left, he has returned with her smells and with gifts of scaly objects dangling from a large hook. These presents he gives to me, asking me to cook these prizes.

Sigh.

Anyone have a good fish recipe?