We live in the big city on a cul-de-sac.  If I were to walk out my front door, I can get to our main town park in minutes and to the grocery store in about 10 minutes.  That is if I walk.  But I eat cupcakes.  So I drive.  And it’s faster.

I normally wake at 5:00 a.m. grab a cup of coffee and read emails.  It is always so quiet this time of morning with only the sounds of the robins and most recently a few mallards.  Pray for me that they lay eggs in our bushes again this year.  Thank you.

But yesterday morning I was in dreamland living on a beach somewhere not realizing I was listening to the sounds of seagulls.

Let me take you back to a recent conversation with my husband;

Me:  Mark we need to get a garbage can instead of leaving bags on the curb.

Mark:  If we get a garbage can it will attract mice and raccoons.

Me:  Ok.

I’m easy that way because … well … I don’t touch the garbage.

Back to yesterday morning.

I was reading emails in lala land dreaming of never eating cupcakes again so I can fit in that string bikini … with a nice golden tan … painted toenails … and sipping a pina colada listening to the sounds of the seagulls.

Until it turned into the horrifying sound of wild birds fighting.

You don’t normally see this around here unless you’re at the mall throwing french fries out your car window.  Not that I do that or anything.

Did you notice my neighbor’s garbage is neatly set at the curb in cans?  But ours is … well … just throw on the curb waiting for a seagull to enjoy a leftover steak bone.  And they were fighting over the leftover steak bone like a bunch of wild dogs.

Being the “I love critters and want to hug them” kind of girl … I was worried they might choke on the steak bone.

So I handled the situation like I always do …

I call my husband to deal with it.

Me:  Mark, there are about 500 seagulls in our cul-de-sac fighting over a steak bone from our garbage that isn’t in cans.  If we had a garbage can we wouldn’t have this problem.  But we don’t.  So now I feel obligated to run out and chance a seagull knowing he might choke on your steak bone.  Yea that’s right.  Bird attack.  In my pajamas.

911 what’s your emergency:  The crazy neighbor lady is out front again except this time she’s chasing seagulls in her pajamas and they just attacked her.

Because that’s what will happen you know.

Mark:  Jody, I’m at work.

Me: K, bye.

And then the seagulls flew off into the sunset with their steak bone.

Have a good day all … I’m off to buy a garbage can.

P.S. – When my husband reads this tonight this will be his exact response, “Damn my grass looks good.”  While I’m standing there with bandages all over my head.

See the original article at TheHuntersWife.net

We’ve been vacationing at Barkley Lake, Kentucky for about 5 years.   One of the reasons we continue to go back is the fishing.  We’ve always managed to bring home our share of bluegill, crappie, yellow strippers and catfish.  Between my husband and I, on average, we catch about 100 fish a day. We’ve never had a problem catching fish.  But this year the guys, Mark and Troy, decided to hire a guide to possibly find a few new spots and learn a few new tips.

So we hired Billy Joe Boitnott that was highly recommended by the locals.

And I had no idea what to expect but I was put on the boat with Billy Joe and it was fishing heaven.

Let’s take a look back at my fishing history:

• My 1st year of fishing:  My husband took care of everything but I needed to learn if I wanted to be fishing chick angler of the year.
• My 2nd year of fishing:  I touched worms and baited my own hook.  Because one day I’ll be fishing chick angler of the year that doesn’t need a man baiting her hook.
• My 3rd year of fishing:  I could rig up my own pole in case of brush hangups.  Or tree hangups.  Or my own hair hangups.  No need for a man on this boat.  I’m fishing chick angler of the year.
• My 4th year:  I just can’t take a fish off the hook but I’ll take pictures with it.  Posing as fishing chick angler of the year.
• My 5th year:  Oh Billy Joe where have you been for the past 4 years?

I sat in a chair on the front of the boat like princess fishing chick angler of the year and never had to move.  He baited my hook, fixed my line, baited my hook, took my fish off, fixed my line, fixed my line and fixed my line.

And he called me cute pet names …  Sassy Susie, Sassy Jo, Sassy Jane and Sassy Frassy.

And I’m not sure why?  ‘Cause I’m not Sassy.  I was very proper, polite and well-mannered.  I was the perfect lady and I made sure not to use one bad word.  I had a talk with myself before we went not to use bad words.  No bad words Jody.   It wouldn’t be ladylike.

But then I heard Billy Joe say, “you monkey” a few times.  And just when I lost that monster 10 lb crappie I loudly blurted out …

“Y O U      M O T H E R     M O N K E Y.”

Have a good day all …  I wonder if Billy Joe would paint my toenails next time?

Who needs the title fishing chick angler of the year being all fishing independent when you can be princess fishing chick angler of the year thanks to Billy Joe.

~~~~~~~~~~

If you’d like to hire a guide on Barkley or Kentucky Lake, I would highly recommend Billy Joe Boitnott.  For more information and if you’d like his number you can email me at:  jody @ thehunterswife . net.

Thank you all and thank you Billy Joe!

See the original article at TheHuntersWife.net