A Fish Called Crappie and the Great Purloined Purple, Possibly Pink, Paddleboat Caper

Well, its official, there really are fish out there. I know for a fact because I spent this 4th of July actually catching some. Normally I would be reluctant to post the name of the lake where these miracles of angling occured, but then again, that would be assuming someone actually reads any of this tripe. But, for the one or two of you that actually do, it is called Lake Templane and is in Southern Michigan.

First of all there is something in the drinking water in this place, because everybody there was extremely nice. This would be an understatement. These folks are certifiably nice. I think they must have some sort of niceness competition. For example, our hosts, Judy and Larry, actually coerced God into giving us 3 straight days of glorious weather, and on a weekend, no less. Now that's what I call nice. And that was just the beginning. They opened their beautiful, lakefront home to Sandy and I, and to my daughter Mel and her husband Dave (ok, so Mel and Dave are technically family) and treated us like royalty the entire time. As a matter of fact, I'm convinced that had they known I occaisionally (which nowadays once every 2 minutes) have to get out of bed to go to the bathroom, they would have volunteered to go for me!
And their neighbors were incredibly friendly. On one side is Jerry and the on the other is Steve. Then for good measure, they have an auxilliary neighbor Pete who, in his off time, relaxes by hauling roughly 8 tons of sand on his back to the lake front to help create a beach and then spends hours spreading it with Larry, Jerry and Steve. Jerry, who kindly keeps the airline industry afloat by commuting to Houston every week for work, offered to let me use his area of lakefront to fish from, while Steve essentially threw open his doors to become the weekend branch of Michigan State. Steve even allowed our dog, Ginger to wander over to his house and up onto his deck during the evening meal and mooch handouts from the student body. Ginger can spot a soft touch at about three miles.

Speaking of dogs, not only did we bring ours, but Mel and Dave brought their two, Elsie and Beelzebub (who you met in a previous post) to stay. So with Larry and Judy's dog Molly, they essentially had a kennel operation going as well. For those of you who have not had the experience of 4 dogs in one house, I can tell you it is like having 4 toddlers in one house, all on industrial strength Red Bull. Unless, of course, it is July 4 weekend and some of the dogs (who shall remain nameless so the other dogs can't get together and talk about them, ok Molly and Elsie) are deathly afraid of fireworks, in which case they required a few tablets of modern veteranary medicine to calm them whenever a firework went off, which of course this weekend was about every 2 nanoseconds. As I understand it, in an unmedicated condition Elsie responds to the explosions by doing what I would do, if I were a dog, and that is slink, with tail twixt hind legs to the nearest bed and curl up in the fetal position underneath, suck her thumb, er, paw, and wimper piteously. Molly on the other hand, essentially turns into a one dog house demolishing crew, and Larry and Judy's window screen budget for replacements every 4th of July equalled the GNP of Bolivia. However, thanks to the miracle of modern chemistry Molly and Elsie zoned out everything and lazed around listening to Pink Floyd records all night. Emma, because she is deaf, and Ginger, because she is older than dirt, essentially did the same.

This is not the end of the dog story however. As there were four of them, and since just about everyone on the lake owned a dog, and therefor would take them for walks, sometimes right on the street in front of the house. When this happened one alert dog, usually Elsie, would alert the other three with usual barking a dog does when ever its territory is threatened, and you immediately had four mutts, a mass of delirious dogs barking crazily, scampering and slipping and sliding on the hardwood floors from window to window, like some deranged canine amoeba so as not to lose sight of the dog on the street.

The other thing the dog's did, perhaps in a fit of pique over being left alone in the house while we were out fishing, shopping, eating or whatever, spent their time devising an insidious game that is bad for young people like Mel and Dave, but particularly ruthless for middle aged folks like the rest of us. While away, these four "adorable" pups decided it would be great fun to hide things from the humans. As a consequence we spent most of our time that weekend saying things like, "Where the heck is my ___________ fill in the blank,

a: cell phone charger
b: glasses
c: wasabi mix
d: brain
e: all of the above and more."

The correct response is of course, "e". But the coup de grace, and we are still trying to figure out how they did it without outside assistance, was when one or more of them (my money is on Emma or Satan as I like to call her, as ringleader at least) decided to take Larry's paddleboat for a midnight joyride. Yes, while homo sapiens slept, this gang of four legged theives absconded with that little boat and then rolled on the floor while Larry and I spent a good part of the next day driving Larry's pontoon boat around the lake looking for Larry's purple (I think it is pink) paddleboat. Larry tried to steer the boat to avoid hazards and so he relied on my keen eyesight to try and locate the wayward craft. This was a mistake, as I have the ocular ability God gave Mr. Magoo. At long last we spotted the vessel being pulled by another pontoon boat headed in the direction of Larry's dock. It had been found on the other side of the island by, who else, Steve and Pete and friends, and were towing it back for Larry. Embarrassed much?

Amid all this excitement we found time to have some fun fishing, swimming in the inground pool and I even tried out the jet ski. For all my good buddies out there you missed a quite a spectacle unless of course you have already seen the Sea World performance of an intoxicated Shamu. We also ate absolutely fabulous meals and snacks prepared by Judy (favorite phrase: "Have a little more, that's only your 32nd helping.") and her offspring Dave who makes a wicked seared tuna steak. Sandy brought along her delicious cabbage rolls and peirogis. Mel, concocted a particulary tasty and insidious drink involving rum soaked watermelon balls. Larry and I did what all men do, which is eat, drink and belch. No, actually Larry among other things, built bonfires a couple of nights that I'm told were photographed by NASA satellites. Larry also took me out on his pontoon boat a few times for the absolute best fishing I have ever had. I caught blue gill, perch, several nice sized bass. But the highlight for me was reeling in something called a "Crappie" (no cheap shots Bennetts) which I had never caught before, and which was a pretty good size, so I'm told, of 12 inches long (ok, 11.9 inches you nitpickers). I caught so many fish I didn't even have to include the few I hooked and lost pulling them into the boat.

So Judy and Larry and the other folks around Lake Templane that made this such a glorious holiday weekend Sandy and I salute and thank you once again. You may live to regret it however, as we have been known to turn up repeatedly like a bad penny. I have no idea what that means. Cheers.

By the way, when Larry and I got back with the paddle boat, we took all the dog's out and shot them. Just kidding, but we damn sure cut back on their bacon allotments.

Now where the hell are my glasses? GINGERRRRR!

Love
Dad