There won’t be many posts of a personal nature on the “Bonita Local” blog. It was simply coincidence that I started blogging during the week of my 5th wedding anniversary to my insanely hot wife.
I will try to stay away from the lovey-dovey half of this story. I will be telling the parallel story. A story of nature and survival. Hunting and gathering. Life, death and beach debauchery.
My wife and I have managed to pawn off our 3-year-old for Saturday night.
We will be heading down to Hickory pass at around 4 p.m.. Our plan is to bring the cast net, for bait. Our vintage Garcia Mitchell reels which we use exclusively. Both of them have broken bails at the moment, but we can overcome that small obstacle. We will also be bringing all of the rest of our fishing gear which attaches to my custom-made fishing caddy, (which can be seen in my very first blog post).
In addition to our usual gear, we will be adding the following items for this special evening…
- Hibachi grill and charcoal for cooking our “just caught fish”. I’m really hoping for some pompano. That is our favorite.
- 2 bottles of fairly cheap Champagne. We will probably pop them both at the same time, and put them in coolie-cups for ourselves. We love champagne!
- A rose or two for added romantic ambiance.
- Asparagus, Rice, Tabasco sauce, and several lemons.
- Two blankets.
- A mason jar of our home-made, habenero infused Tequila.
- Matches! Damn, I know that is what I will forget.
By simply reading that list of items, you can probably visualize how I am planning on tomorrow evening transpiring.
It will start with a glorious ‘pancake’ throw of the cast net. Greenbacks will be sparkling like jewels as I pull the fish-laden net in to the shore, (as the muscles in my forearms gleam in the sun, of course).
I slap the cold, hard, steel of our Japanese fish hooks through the clenched jaws of our baitfish.
My wife and I cast our bait out in unison . Our respective greenbacks will do their personal renditions of the “Dance of a Million Deaths” a mere 30 feet apart from one another.
Barely 15 seconds pass until both of our drags scream! Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Our poles bend in on each other, forming a shape which takes no imagination to see that a fiberglass heart has been superimposed on the now setting sun.
After 20 minutes, our antique reels claim their prizes. I pull a 26″ redfish onto the beach, and my wife drags her 34″ Bull Red ashore. We snap a few photos of the beasts. We release the larger red back into the sunset. I then effortlessly fillet the smaller fish, not wasting a morsel.
The charcoal lit easily in our Hibachi, and our rice is perfect! It is time to put our fish on the grill, along with the asparagus.
Ahhhhhh! Culinary perfection! My wife and I feed each other the tender white flaky fish, as we stare lovingly into each other’s eyes. We have skillfully achieved a beautiful Champagne buzz, which we all know needs to be slowly nurtured with more Champagne. If a Champagne buzz is left to it’s own devices, it will fade as quickly as it came, and leave you with a bonzer headache.
The sun disappeared with a glorious green flash. We can feel a most-welcomed chill in the air, as a cold front glides into Bonita Springs. We finish cleaning up our dinner, and slide between the blankets. Hey… I thought that we cooked all of the asparagus…
Well…it is here. The point in the story where the romantic, mushy part collides with the survival and fishing part. Inseparable. I promised that I wouldn’t get into this part, and I won’t.
My wife will be getting home from work soon, and I will have to get to some work of my own. Perhaps we will take our son to dinner out at Hot Space for some jerk wings and a pitcher of Yuengling.
I will be looking forward to properly celebrating our anniversary tomorrow night at the beach. On Sunday morning I will let you know how reality compared to this prediction. Have you ever seen the kind of Bible that has all of Jesus’s words in red? I think that is the format that I will use. I will slip Sunday’s report in between the hypothesized paragraphs in red ink.