I once was the proud owner of a fly reel. Just the reel mind you. I was 10 years old and I never did get a fishing rod for that reel. The fishing rod I did have came with its own reel, and was the type with which you used a little bobbing float, and a hook to attach something wriggly.

Hapless in the fishing department, I eventually gifted my gear to my younger brother, and stuck to collecting crawdads, tadpoles, and minnows. Over the years my brother regularly brought home trout (usually steelhead), salmon, and assorted other fish he caught in the American River, a short walk from our house in Sacramento.

Continue reading “Grilled Trout with Dill and Lemon” »

I once was the proud owner of a fly reel. Just the reel mind you. I was 10 years old and I never did get a fishing rod for that reel. The fishing rod I did have came with its own reel, and was the type with which you used a little bobbing float, and a hook to attach something wriggly.

Hapless in the fishing department, I eventually gifted my gear to my younger brother, and stuck to collecting crawdads, tadpoles, and minnows. Over the years my brother regularly brought home trout (usually steelhead), salmon, and assorted other fish he caught in the American River, a short walk from our house in Sacramento.

Continue reading “Grilled Trout with Dill and Lemon” »

I once was the proud owner of a fly reel. Just the reel mind you. I was 10 years old and I never did get a fishing rod for that reel. The fishing rod I did have came with its own reel, and was the type with which you used a little bobbing float, and a hook to attach something wriggly.

Hapless in the fishing department, I eventually gifted my gear to my younger brother, and stuck to collecting crawdads, tadpoles, and minnows. Over the years my brother regularly brought home trout (usually steelhead), salmon, and assorted other fish he caught in the American River, a short walk from our house in Sacramento.

Continue reading “Grilled Trout with Dill and Lemon” »

My son was served an eviction notice at the 38.5 week mark, which means that as I now approach my 40th week of manufacturing a new human (that, ironically, we will likely spend the next few years threatening to eat) I have unquestionably never been this pregnant before. I’m beginning to feel a bit like a circus sideshow; I think that most women in my condition simply stay home, what else could explain what a spectacle I must be when I go anywhere? Yesterday, I had to go up to the hospital to fill out some paperwork, which led to possibly a new world record of awkward conversations in an hour timespan:

Getting in a cab: “I need to go to the hospital. I promise, I’m not in labor.”
At the information desk: “Can you tell me how to get to labor and delivery? No, I’m not in labor.”
To the employee by the elevator, because I cannot retain basic information in my brain these days for more than twenty steps: “Labor and delivery is on which floor again? No, not for me, I mean, for me, but not today! Omgdebshutupshutup.”
To the stranger who said “Is today the day?!”: [Something under my breath that need not be repeated.]

.. to say nothing of walking into Labor & Delivery, but not to stay. (Although, believe me, I thought about camping out. I mean, being arrested for civil disobedience would be such a great story for my future momoir!)

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4.83 / 5 Stars | 5 Reviews

by JHARMON

“Sweet and spicy with jalapeno peppers and minced garlic, this fruit salsa will have you coming back for more.”

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