The river is calling

Actually, I think it's the stripers I hear. Or maybe the trout. They have tiny, tiny little voices, the trout do, with a trace of a midwestern accent.

I have some free time ... starting in about an hour, when work for the week is officially over, and I thought perhaps I'd go home and do some housecleaning and maybe curl-up with a book and a cup of tea for a while. But ...

But tomorrow is going to be cold and wet, and today is sunny with a high of 67 and there's already a boat on top of my truck and I think I'll fish while I can.

Fishing, even when not catching, is for me a form of therapy. Pretty cheap therapy, even when you factor in the cost of gas, flies, rods and reels ... the more I do it, the cheaper it becomes (on an hourly basis, I mean).

Maybe I'll stop in at Cabela's, visit with RW and Jason and Ryan and Dan ... see what folks have been catching and put some line on my new 5wt outfit.

If I fish for twice as long this afternoon, or maybe go again tomorrow, that should even-out the cost, right?

I'm going to have to come up with a name for "fishing-as-therapy." Not gestalt therapy, not Freudian analysis .... When I go fishing with folks from work, we call it "single-line sampling," and "resource assessment."

If you have any ideas, post 'em in the comments below, will ya?

In the meantime ... the river is calling. Gotta run.