Scenes from the past two days:

Zeke and I stop by the river so he can refresh his air conditioning system. As I'm about to toss the stick in the water I notice an older couple in bathing suits, waist deep along the shore, brandishing sticks. Each stick has a flappy piece of raw bacon on the end.
Crawdad fishin'.
Mowing our scraggly lawn and I'm noticing, again, that the grass is cut very unevenly. Chunky, like a home haircut. Shut off the tractor and check the blades...yep, sharp. Mow, mow, mow, dang. Turn off blades again, this time observing direction of spin. Look under mower: blades are on backwards. I just put them on a couple weeks back, being careful to install the new ones exactly like the old ones. Honest.
Mower blade dyslexia.
Replacing a large mirror above the bathroom sinks with medicine cabinets I pull off the old mirror (5'x2') and set it out of harms way. Walk back into the bathroom and almost fall over. Without the mirror the room has shrunken.
Phantom depth perception.

Crawdad fishin' brings back memories of Nebraska, walking to school through an alley by an irrigation ditch. Somehow (the details of which I'm forgetting...on purpose probably) we'd find a hunk of meat or bone in someone's trash, hang it from a string into the water, and then after school slowly ease it out and harvest the crawdads.

When my nephew Garrett was here a few years ago we convinced a handful of folks from work to go crawdadding with us. Without hunks of meat or flaps of bacon we relied on stealth, speed, and clumsy luck. We managed to gather a couple dozen along with some nasty pinches. The more Garrett thought about it the less he wanted to eat those crawdads. We let them go a couple hours later.

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