The last time I announced that I had gone fishin’ (metaphorically rather than literally, of course), I accompanied that declaration with a picture of the first fish my son ever caught.
In an appropriate instance of synchronicity, my son is visiting his grandparents in South Georgia this week, and he went fishing with my father on Monday morning. His haul for about an hour’s worth of work included three catfish and a bream. Here is the photographic evidence of the results of his efforts:
In conjunction with the foregoing, I am making it known that the confluence of the end of the Diamond Dogs’ season and the existence of outside obligations requiring my attention will prevent me from providing fresh content until tomorrow. As always, your understanding is appreciated.