Indiana Lessons: Catfishing 101

Yesterday, while at dinner with my family, I learned something. Surprise!

Apparently, you can fish for catfish using only your arms. First, you go to a place with catfish (perhaps a special river). Second, you insert your arm into the river. Third, you wait. When a catfish (now, this is the gross part) suctions its way up your arm to your elbow, you jerk your arm out and then flip the catfish onto the riverbank. Then I guess you kill the catfish and eat it.

Short Disclaimer: I have only heard tell of this practice and I personally know no one who participates in this activity. I do not recommend that anyone use this entry as a guide for wilderness survival.

A Second Short Disclaimer: Catfish have teeth like things. This method may hurt more than other, traditional, methods of catfishing.

For those of you who do choose to use this in your next hunting and fishing expedition in spite of my warnings, I also can suggest a location for you to try your hand: on the side of highway 67 between Indianapolis and Martinsville. I think you just stop your truck on the side of the road and walk until you run into a river. You can also stop at a “campground” advertising overnight stays and the opportunity to fish for $3 on a painted piece of plywood. As you might suspect, I have not taken them up on this offer.

Alternatively, persons who crave catfish may choose to buy it from the grocery store. I checked www.peapod.com, you can have it delivered to your front door with twenty four hours notice.

I, for one, rest easier with the knowledge that I can have all the catfish I want without ever wallowing around on a riverbank for one. Phew! What a relief! I know you share my feelings about the necessity for reliable catfish suppliers.

Order quickly, I can assure you I will and I am going to stock up. In a frenzy of Google productivity, I have also searched for some catfish recipes. You can do many things with catfish. For example: you can barbeque it, you can roast it, you can bake it, you can blacken it, you can even serve it in a lovely Cajun etoufe. The phrase “spoiled for choice” comes to mind.

Long story short, I have discovered so many ways to serve catfish that I am thankful I don’t have to lay on my stomach with my arm in a river waiting for a catfish to give me a hickey.

Yesterday, while at dinner with my family, I learned something. Surprise!

Apparently, you can fish for catfish using only your arms. First, you go to a place with catfish (perhaps a special river). Second, you insert your arm into the river. Third, you wait. When a catfish (now, this is the gross part) suctions its way up your arm to your elbow, you jerk your arm out and then flip the catfish onto the riverbank. Then I guess you kill the catfish and eat it.

Short Disclaimer: I have only heard tell of this practice and I personally know no one who participates in this activity. I do not recommend that anyone use this entry as a guide for wilderness survival.

A Second Short Disclaimer: Catfish have teeth like things. This method may hurt more than other, traditional, methods of catfishing.

For those of you who do choose to use this in your next hunting and fishing expedition in spite of my warnings, I also can suggest a location for you to try your hand: on the side of highway 67 between Indianapolis and Martinsville. I think you just stop your truck on the side of the road and walk until you run into a river. You can also stop at a “campground” advertising overnight stays and the opportunity to fish for $3 on a painted piece of plywood. As you might suspect, I have not taken them up on this offer.

Alternatively, persons who crave catfish may choose to buy it from the grocery store. I checked www.peapod.com, you can have it delivered to your front door with twenty four hours notice.

I, for one, rest easier with the knowledge that I can have all the catfish I want without ever wallowing around on a riverbank for one. Phew! What a relief! I know you share my feelings about the necessity for reliable catfish suppliers.

Order quickly, I can assure you I will and I am going to stock up. In a frenzy of Google productivity, I have also searched for some catfish recipes. You can do many things with catfish. For example: you can barbeque it, you can roast it, you can bake it, you can blacken it, you can even serve it in a lovely Cajun etoufe. The phrase “spoiled for choice” comes to mind.

Long story short, I have discovered so many ways to serve catfish that I am thankful I don’t have to lay on my stomach with my arm in a river waiting for a catfish to give me a hickey.

Um Mr. Blahnik? I need some new shoes.

This summer, I have discovered a new hobby. I have, with the completion of my first half marathon, officially become a runner. I’m going to take this opportunity to congratulate myself.

However, there are some problems with my new passion. I like that runners smile and wave at each other when they pass on trails. I like flying down Bloomington’s rolling hills. I like the feeling of running with the wind at my back. I love running past the thirteen mile marker. I think it’s even better than the feeling of running past the finish line. (Although that was pretty fantastic too.)

I also love shoes. I am an equal opportunity shoe lover. I love flats and heels, stilettos, wedges, stacked pumps, kitten heels… I love round toes, pointy toes, square toes… I love practical black shoes, impractical Kelly green shoes and (of course) anything pink. My favorite pair of shoes is a particularly gorgeous pair of violet suede round toe pumps with metallic silver accents. I won’t leave home without them. These shoes are so special that they’ve inspired nervous breakdowns.

The problem is this: My two twin loves are at odds. After the completion of my half marathon, it was time for a new pair of running shoes. My mother took me to a very hard core running shoe store where a very hard core running shoe saleswoman fitted me for some very hard core running shoes.

I admitted the need for larger shoes and even accepted the necessity for “stability” shoes. I think we can all agree those were some MAJOR concessions, especially for a footwear connoisseur like me.

When the saleswoman and I had agreed on the classification and size, she brought me three pairs to try on. In my life, I have never seen three uglier shoes all grouped together. It was almost a crime. Three shoes, three brands, all were white with blue lines. In all three, the shade of blue was every eight year old boy’s favorite color. You know—the color I didn’t like when I was eight.

Out of pure desperation, I threatened the saleswoman with tears if she didn’t bring out some girl’s shoes. Seriously. I am not at a place in my life where I can just run in any shoes. I need shoes that look like a girl runs in them. I’m drawing my line in the sand and I’m not going to back down. (Maybe I should just go back to ballet. There was an activity with GREAT shoes: baby pink and satin with extra long ribbons!)

Eventually, I met with some success. I have “cranberry” accented running shoes. They aren’t perfect, but let’s face it: I’m never going to find suede or patent leather “stability” running shoes. They aren’t going to have fashionable wedge heels. But do they have to be hideous? Can’t somebody (ANYBODY) make running shoes that are also girly shoes? Is that too much to ask?

Running is not a manly activity like rugby or field hockey. Sure. Manly girls run. But so do girly girls. Who is going to make shoes for us?