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.

Hi, Honey, I'm home, now I'm off to fish!

One of the great benefits about having your own blog is that it gives a person a chance to vent when she's really, really angry without resorting to a screaming match with the person she is angry at (yes, I know I shouldn't end a sentence with a preposition, but I'm too annoyed to fix it.)

It's summer vacation, which means that before I can come home, I have to pick the child up at camp, which is a little further away than the regular school. And, well, it's been a long day at work, which the husband knew.

So, after a really long day and having to pick up a cranky child. I pull into the driveway just as he is leaving the house wearing his fishng shirt and carrying his pole and tackle box. He looked at me as if he was a 10-year-old just caught playing hooky.

"Oh, you're home, already? I was going to go fishing with Billy."
"I see," I couldn't hide the sigh in my voice.
"We won't be gone long."
That was an hour ago, and no sign of him yet.
It's not that I mind him going fishing every now and then, but did I mention it had been a long day? And, with the days going longer and longer, I most likely won't see him until about 8 p.m., at which time I will be about to put the child to bed. Then, the husband will look at me and whine about letting the child stay up a little later so they could spend time together. Never mind that I'm dead tired and I want to relax also. Sorry, but I just can't seem to really unwind until after the child goes to sleep.

With my apologies to the farmers who most likely need the extra daylight, I swear fishermen and husbands made up Daylight Savings just so they could get in a little extra fishing after work. And that leaves the Fishing Widow holding the bag. Again.

Grrrr.

Hunting season in July! Let the madness begin

It's started, and it's still July. The first hunt for my husband doesn't start until October, and yet he has started salivating already.

The results of the drawings for public Wildlife Management Area hunts are posted on the myflorida.com's web site. For more information, you can also check out this Florida hunting site. My husband got an email this week from the state. You would have thought he won the lottery the way he was celebrating the hunts he got. Sigh.

Archery season start in August or September, but they don't impact me. My husband isn't an archery hunter, although over the years his friends have tried to lure him into this sport. Archery season in Florida is even more brutal for hunters, I think, because it is still boiling hot outside and hunters sweat profusely in their hunting attire. But I digress.

Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission limits the number of hunters for each hunt on public land. The official reason is probably to limit the number of animals killed from each area. I say the real reason is to reduce the number of hunters in any one place so they don't kill each other accidentally. Now that the results are  posted, the scouting must begin. My husband is already making plans to head out to the places he has hunts so he can figure out where to put his stands, where the deer are moving and how far he has to walk to get there. I used to go with him during these trips, but now, with our child, it's difficult, so he'll go alone.

OK, so I use that as an excuse. Scouting trips aren't fun when it's 100 degrees outside.
To all other Florida hunting widows, welcome to Hunting Season. Let the fun begin.

No rain, nor sleet, nor even hail can stop the Fisherman

Today, being a holiday from work because July 4 fell on a Sunday. I figured I'd be spending the day cooped up with the husband and child, also off from camp. Wrong.
At 6 a.m., earlier than the alarm clock usually rings in our house, I awoke to the sound of him putting on his fishing shirt. (Yes, there are shirts in his wardrobe that are designated fishing shirts. You even  have to wash and dry them differently, but that's another post.)
"What are you doing?" I mumbled.
"Going fishing with the guys," he said matter-of-factly, as if I had just asked him why he as breathing.
"But it's raining outside," I insisted -- hence the reason I figured we'd be cooped up in the houe together.
"Yeah, but we're taking the kayaks. We'd get wet either way," he shrugged. And off he went.
So, I ended up getting awoken by the child at 6:30 a.m., also earlier than the usual alarm clock, so he could watch TV and get breakfast. Did I mention we'd all been  up late last night because of the fireworks???

I guess it's not so bad. The husband is not a good one to stay in the house with when it rains. He gets cabin fever easily. And the child and I usually can get a good game of Monopoly or something going.

But when the husband comes home, he will be drenched in rain and river water. Soaked to the skin, he will rush to the shower and then go take a nap. We'll see him emerge around 5 p.m. today, in time for us to start getting ready for dinner.

Father's Day for the fishing and hunting widow

OK, you would think Father's Day would be a no-brainer for me, considering my husband has two major hobbies and there are lots of accessories for me to buy for him. Actually, I hate having to buy for my husband. (Please see the entry about going to Wal-Mart to buy a simple lure for further explanation.) Fishing and hunting require certain tools and I think everyone is different as to which lure, bait, pole or other accessory is the best. Usually, when I've tried to surprise my husband with something, he tells me I've chosen the wrong thing. So now I don't bother.

I know what my husband wants to do on Father's Day -- go fishing on the boat. And, as a good Fishing Widow wife, I will go with him. After all, on Father's Day, we have to give our children's dad a break from our nagging. My husband works hard all week, and he is good with our child. My husband is waiting for our son to become seriously interested in fishing so he can actually cast some lines when the two go fishing by themselves. I think he has a while to wait. For now, I'm content to go along with him, especially on Father's Day, to distract the child a little with shells and swimming while my husband fishes and spends quality time with us.

Fishing widow and the Fishing Show

The husband was looking at the newspaper the other day and noticed a blurb about a fishing and boating show. He asked if I wanted to go with him. I couldn't think fast enough, figured it was either that or do laundry at home, and agreed.

Ladies, take notice. If your significant other ever suggests such a venture, do not make the mistake I did. Especially if said venue is outdoors in Florida anytime between May and September. Be sure and have your significant other drop you off first at the movies, mall, antique show, craft show or anywhere else.

Because if I thought shopping with him in the Wal-Mart sporting goods department was bad, a fishing show is MUCH, MUCH worse. Going with your husband to a fishing show is like taking a child to a carnival. He has to go to every single booth and talk with every single person in the booth. First he talks with the person about the products or service the vendor is selling. Then, they get a history of how long my husband has been fishing and hunting and how Florida has changed so much. Twenty minutes later, well, my eyes just sort of glaze over and I stand there with this silly smile on my face not knowing -- or caring -- what the conversation is about.

Then we go to the next booth, and the routine starts over. My husband can talk about reels, rods, lures even, get this, the LINE. I mean, seriously, he had a conversation over the best fishing line to use. Sigh. Meanwhile, sweat is pouring down my face and in my eyes. I'm having heat stroke and he's discussing the difference between a silver spoon and a feather lure or something. Plus, I have a bored child hanging on me and whining about the heat.

Three hours later, my husband turns to me and asks if I wanted something to eat. I'm thinking chain restaurant or fried clams (for some reason I had a hankering for seafood). Then I followed his gaze to the barbecued pork sandwiches someone was selling at the fishing show. Oh no. I drew the line at that. If I'm going to stand around listening to fishing discussions and waste a whole Saturday, the least I deserve is a meal out of it.

And not some lousy pork sandwich.