Congratulations! I'm a winner!

This is my schedule. So many red days where I didn't do anything! Actually, I did do some. The later greens are 2 parter. So, about 2000 words per day.

Note to Self: WriteWay

Hey, remember to download the demo copy of WriteWay. You know you want it. Get it, and get the discount! You earned it!

Also check out Dragon Naturally Speaking version 12. It does different accents, now.

Romantic Writer

The Birth of a Romantic Writer

0300

Wendy was a dutiful wife whose marriage was arranged between families. Her husband, whom she never met before, was hard working and twice her age when they met and wed. The fact that she was a mail order bride did not concern her, for this was the common custom at the time. As luck would have it, their personalities were agreeable, and their marriage was well accepted. To all parties, life was well.

Not that all aspects of life was well. Wendy and her husband got along very well. They had 2 children between them, whom they adored very well. Wendy knew that in the old tradition of Asian families, it was expected that the wife supported the husband while the husband worked as the bread winning part of the family. Thus, her husband worked, while the wife stayed home. Even though she was liberal college educated, and he was not, she dutifully followed her husband as that was the custom. She did not complain of her station as per tradition demanded. Her place was always beneath her husband as this was the custom. She accepted it in the spirit of united family.

Her husband, David, was hard working, dutiful husband. As Wendy had accepted her part, so did he. It is his duty to provide for the family, and as the family grew, he tried to keep up. His lack of education was his undoing, and good jobs were scarce and he had trouble finding good paying jobs. In the end, he bought a truck and worked as a truck driver, delivering goods to paying customer. The money was hard to come by, and the competition was fierce. David was forced to work long hours, and he was gone for long periods of time. And when he was home, he was tired.

Wendy tried to serve her husband well, but in the end, it was the same. She longed for her husband when he was away, yet when he got home, he was too tired. Wendy cared and comforted him, and when he was refreshed, he went to work again. Money was tight, and he cannot afford to stay home for too long of a time. As much as Wendy knew this, it was as if she was without a husband. This did not please her. As she dreamed away for days of happiness, she began to fell hopelessness and wondered if they can ever be truly happy.
"Daddy," Wendy said to her husband. They had begun calling themselves "Daddy" and "Mommy" when they first had children. As was part of their heritage, they loved their children dearly and dotted them. "Mommy needs new shoes." Their conversation has revolved around money when David was home. Wendy, as was the custom of Asian families, managed the money in the family.

"What's wrong with the old shoes?" asked David. "Didn't we just buy new ones?" David was the head of the families, and as such, the final decision maker. This was important for the family harmony. Even though David was honest, and hard working, and loved his family dearly, it was clear that Wendy was the smarter of the two. She was from a well educated family and that he was not. As much as David loved his family and tried to catch up, it was clear that Wendy was more talented. He accepted this, and therefore he listened to her as much as possible. There was no animosity when David asked Wendy the reason why she needs new shoes. It was merely a question to ask for information to make a decision.

"The old one is broken." Wendy said. "The heel came apart. I need a new one." The shoes were a cheap pair on sale. As much as Wendy tried to take care of it, it was difficult to do.

"So, have them fixed." David said. "Use the strong glue that we have. We just bought new shoes, and I don't think we can afford new ones." Even though she was the money organizer, David was the final decision maker. Since he worked out there, he knew that the economy was tight, and so, he was saving for the proverbial rainy day. He'd always say "Save during the 7 years of plenty for the 7 years of famine," quoting the bible.

In spirit, Wendy approved his thriftiness. It was what got the family going. They were saving the money for the children's education. They were determined to send all their children to college, so they can get good jobs and in turn, take care of them. The children taking care of their parents is part of the custom of their heritage. However, there were limits to her thriftiness.

"These were fixed 3 times already. I don't think they will last for too long much longer." Wendy said. "I really need new ones." She said the words in conversational tone. There was no nagging. They had agreed to listen to each other for they know that if they started to keep secret from one another, the marriage will fall apart. Wendy tried to be patient, but as much as she was the talented one in the family, her husband was the champion when it comes to shrugging hardship. She was the spoiled one. Not enough eating bitterness. Her husband has overcome much suffering, and what to Wendy was unbearable hardship, it was merely annoyance to David.

"Didn't we just buy new shoes?" asked David. "How long do these shoes last?" His shoes were a pair of work boots. They last forever. Utilitarian in nature, these can be fixed indefinitely. Wendy's pair are dress shoes, and for the most part, much less durable than his work shoes.

"Those shoes are for the children." she said. "I didn't get a new one for me." She was tempted, but her shoes were fine and didn't need fixing then.

"Well, why don't you get a used one?" he said. "Money is tight, and the economy is bad." Money was always tight. College was expensive, and always getting more so. Saving for college was never enough.

"Old shoes are bad for my feet." she said. "And besides, they don't last much longer."

"You can get one of those soft liners for the feet." he said. "And there are all kinds of shoes out there. Get the long lasting ones."

Her husband made a good argument. However, that was not what Wendy wanted to hear. When her husband said "Long lasting shoes" he invariably meant shoes that last longer than one year. His pair was on his feet 9 years and counting. None of the dress shoes last that long. She'll be lucky if her shoes last more than one year. Furthermore, she had no desire to wear workboots when going shopping. She was embarrassed enough with the old fashioned style she was forced to wear. Going to traditional timeless fashion does have a tendency to make one look old-fashioned.

"I need to look good, too." she said. "None of the good looking ones are long lasting." Wendy was an expert in lengthening shoes' usable life. But there will come a time when the shoes need replacing.

"Why don't you get a job, then?" David said. "We can use the extra money." As per traditional house keeping tradition, the wife stays at home, while the husband worked.

"Jobs are scarce, and I can't find a good one." she said. Nobody wants to hire liberally educated college student who did not even graduated. She had left the college prematurely. Even graduates like her friends were having a tough time finding jobs. Some even go so far as to work as manual labor, a far cry from their dreams of artistic lifestyles they were dreaming when they were young.

"There is an opening for the restaurant a few blocks away." David said. "You don't need a car to work there. You can just walk."

"Do you really want me to work in a restaurant?" Wendy said. Wives traditionally stayed home.

"If you need money that badly, it can't be helped." David said. "We must do what we must do. You don't want to take the money away from the children's college fund."

"That's true." Wendy said. "I guess it can't be helped." Shoes aren't that expensive. "So, you want me to wait around customers?"

"No" he said. "The opening is for dish washer. You don't get to talk with the customer at all."

"You want me to wash the dishes all day long?" she was upset. Housework was an unpleasant chore she put up with in order to have good housekeeping. It was not an enjoyable work.

"Sure," he said. "You're really good at it. May as well do it professionally." He was complementing her, but of course that misses the mark completely. Taking pride of doing something is not the same as enjoying it.

"But washing dishes dries up my hands." she said. "It would make me look like an old woman!" She did not cherish the thought. "Do you want me to have an old woman's hand?"

"It will happen eventually." he said. "In the meantime, you can use moisturizer hand cream. Just use them sparingly."

"Well, maybe the old shoes can last a little bit longer. In the meantime, we can save money for new shoes, can't we?" Wendy will not be working as dishwasher, even if she has to walk barefoot.

"Sure." David was agreeable. As long as the children are taken care of, he has no objection. He knew Wendy was as loving to the children as he was, and he knew that she will not spend money frivolously.

---

The wine was flowing freely, as the azure sky above wept, for the sins of the children was without limits and the earth was suffering mightily.

Wendy stared at the sentence for a while and decided to leave revision for later. Lately, words have not come to her easy. She was still trying to be a writer, as per her young dreams, but it is getting harder and harder as she grew older. Her pen was held carelessly and she tried to brainstorm further.

And more, and more, the earth became hollow, as her resources were mined judiciously. Her pleas were ignored by the greedy children.

She thought some more. Finally, she crossed the words "mined judiciously" and wrote above it, "drank dry."

She was writing a novel titled "The wrath of the Gaia." about how greedy capitalists destroyed the earth's resources, and mother nature took revenge. It was a very literary piece, she decided, and something that hopefully will get published. She knew the odds are against it, but hope springs eternal.

"And then maybe I will get some money so I can buy new shoes." She was helpless in her reverie about all the money she wished to have and ended up wasting the afternoon fantasizing her shoppings, instead of writing her story.

The noise of her children coming from school woke her up from her reverie and she sighed. Not even one page. "Perhaps, I'm not cut out to be a writer, after all."

She made sure that her children were taken care of. And her dreams of being a Pulitzer Prize winning author were put on hold once more as she became a role model for mothers everywhere. In truth, she was not alone. Many a dream career was shelved by young girls becoming mothers everywhere.

---

Wendy was standing in front of the door marked "Lonely Hearts Publishing." The words "The definitive romance stories published anywhere." can be found underneath. She has on one shoulder her purse-bag, and held on her hands was the completed manuscript. It had taken her over two years to write, and it took some more time before she gathered enough bravery to knock on the door.

"Come in" said the voice behind the door. It sounded like whoever was behind the door was annoyed. Wendy took a deep breath, opened the door, and walked in. Behind a crowded desk was a middle age person holding a phone. On the desk, various papers were strewn about. A tag marked "Editor" was on the desk. There was a shelf full of romance novels lined up behind him. Some plagues adorned the wall, but she had trouble recognizing any of them.

"No, no, no more advance!" he was saying on the phone. "You will get me the final draft next week. I don't care if the roof falls on you! Just get it done!" then he hung up the phone, looking very disgusted. "Writers! I hate them! Always full of excuses!" He composed himself and took a deep breath. Finally, he turned to Wendy. "Yes? What can I do for you?"

"Ummm." Wendy was hesitant. In Wendy's mind, the phrase "I hate writers" was repeated many, many times. She thought that she was doomed no matter what. The man looked rather annoyed. He was incredibly busy, and cannot afford to waste time.
"Well? Out with it!" he said. Then he saw a binder in Wendy's hands. He spied it with suspicion. "Is that a manuscript?" he asked.

"Yes." Wendy said.

"For me to publish?" he said.

"Yes." she said.

"Do you agree to standard NDA?" Wendy was confused. "You will not sue me for stealing your idea?" the man clarified.

"Yes."

"Then let's see it." Wendy gave the binder to the man. He read it very quickly. It was obvious that he didn't bother to read any symbolism or evaluating the literature merit. He was scanning the manuscript at a rapid pace. He was skipping pages, too. Wendy wasn't too sure about that. In the end, the man closed the binder and returned it to Wendy. Wendy was once again holding her manuscript, not knowing what to do. She waited.

The man was lost in thought. He was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed. Then at last, he spoke. "The piece isn't bad. In fact, it is brilliant in places. You are a very good writer." Wendy beamed. "You need to work the plot better." he continued, "There's too much exposition and it doesn't move the story along. You need to pick up the pace more." This, Wendy admitted was true. She was too concerned in writing the words perfectly that it ends up being wordy. "So, how many sex scenes do you have?" he asked.

Wendy was confused. "Sex scenes?"

"Sure." he said. "This is a romance novel publisher. We need sex scenes in our books."

"Well," Wendy was unsure as to what to say. The protagonist was very romantic, but she wasn't about to insert sex scenes in every other chapter.

"Although I like to see sex scenes in every other chapter, I can accept as little as 5 sex scenes per book." he clarified further.

"5 sex scenes?!" Wendy was shocked. This was not her idea of ideal romance novel. "But you said I'm a good writer. Can't you publish my work?"

"Sorry, but no." he said. "Our customers have expectation of us." Wendy stared at him with pleading eyes. The man softened. "Look," he said, "even if I publish it, I will never sell it. Our customer base just isn't that interested in buying that kind of piece. Not our market."

"You are saying I should keep looking?" she said. She was rejected. The fate of so many romance writers! Doomed to be unpublishable.

"You are a good writer." he said. "One of the publishers will find you. You will be a successful writer ... eventually." Wendy was thinking hard. She was wondering if her shoes will outlast her search for a publisher.

The man was looking at Wendy. He was not used to waiting. He had piles of work to do. He grabbed on of the novel on the shelf, and gave it to Wendy. "Read this." he said. "This is one of our best sellers. Can you write like that?" He motioned her to the waiting chair and got back to work.

Wendy just stood there, reading the pages. She got to the sex scenes and her face went red. As she continued through the sex scenes, her face went redder and redder. Finally, she closed the book. Her face was flushed and hot due to the steaming hot sex scenes passages in the book.

"Well?" The publisher/editor asked. "Can you write like that?"

Wendy composed herself. "There's too much sex in it, and it goes on and on." The material does not suit her. "It's cheap sex." She can't believe how shallow it was. "And besides, I can write better than that."

"That is what sells." he said. "I can sell those." In fact, some of the best seller sells tens of thousands of copies. Successful author makes six digit salaries per year. "That" he pointed to her binder, "I can't sell, no matter how good."

"I'm not sure I want to write like that." she said.

"Well, then, why don't you think about it?" he said.

Wendy returned the book to the publisher. He declined. "Keep it for reference." he said. "Just in case you changed your mind. My gift to you."

Wendy was very sure she wouldn't change her mind. Nevertheless, she thanked him and returned home.

---

The fate of the wife of a trucker is a lonely one. There is not much to do at home when the husband is away. Many days passed without the husband's presence and companionship. With the economy going bad to worse, David can't afford to take time off work. There’s barely enough for food, not to mention extra money. Wendy dreamed of all the things she'd do when her husband was at home. Most of the time, though, he was too tired to do anything. Wendy did all she could, and watch him depart when he was fresh. There was hardly any time together.

Working too hard is part of the curse of business owners everywhere. The fear is that the business will fail when the economy is bad. So they tend to work 16 hours per day. At least David was a trucker, and didn't have to work that hard. At least on paper. Every waking day was spent looking for new loads. There's hardly any time to sleep at all.

Charlotte was flabbergasted at the businessman's proposal. It was totally unethical. A bribe in exchange of removing pollution? Why can't they realize that they're poisoning their own water supply?

Wendy was writing constantly. Charlotte was the protagonist of the story she was writing. Write, then edit, edit, and edit. There's so much to do! Each sentence must be perfect! Wendy was hoping that the next publisher she found would buy her material immediately. And so, she diligently wrote and edited her piece. Every word must be perfect!

The phone rang. It was David. He was having trouble with the truck. Unfortunately, the truck has broken down in the middle of nowhere and the towing cost runs thousands of dollars. That is the amount of money they cannot afford to lose. "We must tap into the children's college fund." David was saying. "We have no choice." Wendy resigned to fate. There was no other way.

"I'll take care of it." Wendy said. And so it goes, day in, day out. Everyday it's the same thing. Struggling to make ends meet.

Charlotte was in dire situation. She was caught sneaking into the oil platform. And now, the greedy owner was in her room with her. He was threatening her with death. The most painful one imaginable. She wiped her sweat from her eyebrows.

The children went home, and they sense that their mother was not right. They dutifully did their homework and kept quiet. Wendy appreciated that. She was raising good children. At least some things went right. She tried to divert her attention away from her novel writing. Her progress was slow. Some days, it was not even a page. She welcomed the change of doing homework with her children. She missed David terribly. Oh, what terrible fate lonely housewives must suffer.

---

It came out of the blue. Charlotte was in trouble. She was facing imminent torture, when David called and told Wendy that he will be coming home a day early. He lucked out and managed to secure a great paying job over the weekend, and he will be home for a couple days to celebrate. Wendy was bowled over with joy.

The cruel owner grabbed Charlotte roughly by the hair. “You must pay for your insolence!” he hissed. “You cannot escape this oil platform. There is no one who knows you're here. I can do what ever I want with you.” He eyed Charlotte cruelly and with antagonistic uninhibited malice.

Wendy was having trouble with the story. It's the end of Charlotte, her protagonist, for she cannot see a way to escape certain death. The story will end there, halfway through the book. Wendy was thinking a way to turn this into a short story. Her fingers carelessly wandered upon the page, the pen swaying in her hand.

Charlotte was in complete fear. She clutches at her chair desperately. She screamed in delight as the man took her. Her body was trembling with pleasure with his caress. She was in ecstasy!

Wendy blinked. She was writing her thought of what would happen with her when her husband, David, get home. That won't do, she thought. I'm confusing real life with fiction. The plot now has holes. I must do better!

Yet, she did not, for she cannot see a good way out for Charlotte. I will fix it later, she mused. Maybe I should start a new story. Writing steamy sex scenes was so unlike her.

---

David was happy to be home. He's been working for too long. Wendy, too, was happy David was home. They took their day together very seriously, for it comes few and far in between. Wendy was in ecstasy, and then David dropped the bombshell. He had made enough money that Wendy can now afford to buy new shoes!

Wendy squealed with delight and kissed her husband passionately. David, too, gave in to the passion. It's rare to see Wendy with happiness, and it pleased him greatly. And though it was only for a day, the pleasantness linger. Wendy was in a very good mood. She started to go shopping for some shoes. Something not too expensive.

"You know what I'm going to do to you?” the cruel owner asked Charlotte. “I'm going to kill you! I'm going to feed you to the shark. Do you know that sharks never ran out teeth? Even if they lose some, they'll just grow new ones. And their skin, let me tell you.” He eyed Charlotte menacingly. “Their skin is just like sandpaper. It's gritty. Very rough on your feet. Not at all like these chamois leather shoes that are currently on sale for 50% off. They come in a variety of colors and with designer style. Very popular with young attractive ladies. They are smooth and comfortable to wear all d...”

Wendy blinked. How did the words from advertisement leaflet went into her story? Oh, this won't do! The story was being destroyed! Perhaps she should go shopping. When she wears those comfortable shoes, maybe the story will turn out for the better.

Days went by with no improvement at all. Wendy kept trying to write, and real life kept interfering. She was despaired with hopelessness. Charlotte will not make it out alive if the shoes on sale kept distracting Wendy.

Charlotte looked at the man. Her hair was in shambles. Her mouth bloodied by his constant punches. She hasn't washed in weeks. He kept her in containment. She was his prisoner. Charlotte ripped off her shirt and bared her breast to her tormentor. He grinned in expectation. As he cradled her breasts, Charlotte went out a soft whimper that sounds just like Wendy's. Scratch Wendy's

How did my name get into the story? thought Wendy. Real life interfered again. That was how her session with David went. She sighed. This won't do. It's very embarrassing to show the world how it went. Wendy's face red with embarrassment. She was a very modest housewife. And yet, before she knew it, 8 pages were written with the most scorching description of sexual experiments, most of it unfit to be published in family magazine.

Wendy broke her pen in two in frustration. That is not what I want to write, she said.

---

The editor was reading her manuscript. Just like before, he read very fast. She had called him declaring her intention to abandon literary world when he insisted that she brought in the manuscript as-is for his review. He devoured the manuscript like a famished person eating doughnuts. It was very quick.

As he closed the binder containing the manuscript, he closed his eyes, and thought. Finally, he smiled. "I can sell this. I will need to heavily edit the materials, but if that's all right with you, I'd like to buy your manuscript."

"Really?" Wendy was surprised. The plot holes were so numerous as to make the story incomprehensible.

"Yes, really. I'll write you a check today. Right now" he said.

"But the story is a terrible mess, unsuitable for print." she said.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it." he said.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Absolutely!" he said. "I've dealt with far worse materials than this. Damn those writers! They don't even bother to spell check their drafts!"

"Well, at least I spell correctly." she said.

"So, it's a deal?" he asked.

Wendy thought for a moment. A published material meant that she's a bonafide, genuine writer! She can use the reference. "It's a deal!" Wendy shook hands with the editor.

He pulled out a check book and wrote a $10,000 check and gave it to Wendy. Wendy stared at the amount. It was much more than what she expected. The editor looked at Wendy, smiling. Wendy looked at the editor, confused.

"It's a lot of money." Wendy finally said.

"That $10,000 means that I am confident that I can sell at least 10,000 copies." he said. "Your material is that good."

"So, you'll sell 10,000 copies?" asked Wendy.

"Of course not!" he said. "I said 'at least'. I am confident that I can sell much more than that. This is just a guess, but 50 to 70 thousands is not out the question."

"Well," Wendy said. "At least you get to make a lot of money."

"You, too, will make a lot of money." he said. "That $10,000 is what is called an advance. That is yours to keep no matter what. For each copy I sell, you actually get $1.50 royalty. Which means, if I sell 50,000 copies, your total compensation will be $75,000!"

"That's a lot of money." Wendy said.

He smiled. "And if you can write me another book just like this, I'd pay you more still." He was beaming and looking at her expectantly. "Can you write me another?"

Wendy was undecided. This was not what she had in mind. She was aiming to be a Pulitzer Prize winner, not a cheap romance novelist. "I'll think about it." she said.

---

"Mommy, how about this one?" Wendy and her children were shopping for new shoes. The old shoes were getting too small.

"That's fine, dear. Do you like it?" asked Wendy.

"Yes, mommy!" she beamed.

"Well, let's get that one, then." said Wendy. "Try walking around in it to make sure they fit. How about you?" Wendy asked her son. "Have you found one you like yet?"

"I'm gonna get me a steel toe boots!" he declared. "Just like daddy!"

"I don't think they make one your size." said Wendy.

"Well, they should!" he said. "I'll keep looking!" he ran to the other side of the store.

"You shouldn't run like that!" admonished Wendy. She went after him, only to be stopped by the most gorgeous pair of shoes she had ever laid her eyes on.

"Where's the boot section?" he said. Boys are very active. "I'm gonna try them all!" he started pulling the shoes at random.

"Don't do that!" Wendy said to her son. "You need to just pick the one you like." She could not take her eyes off the shoes. The leather was so soft and comfortable. It's a good brand name, not the usual cheap ones. Her current shoes suddenly felt flimsy and cheap. Gingerly, she grabbed the beckoning shoes and put them on. Wendy was smiling very wide.

"Mommy, are you going to get new shoes?" Her daughter asked.

"I think so." Wendy said. "My old shoes are falling apart." This was not true. Wendy could not contain her smile.

Her daughter looked at the price. "Mommy! This one costs $300!"

"Is that so?" Wendy said, dreamily. She was thinking about how comfortable those shoes were. How very nice to wear them while shopping, or walk around the neighborhood, or walk just about anywhere. Maybe I should start exercising, she thought. A walk on treadmill wouldn't be too bad with these shoes.

"Yes, mommy! Look!" Her daughter was holding the price tag. Wendy kept dreaming away.

"Well, we need to save money for college." Wendy said. "Once we have that, it's okay to buy something nice as reward." Of course, this is just an excuse.

"So, mommy has been good?" her daughter asked.

"Yes, dear. Mommy has been good." Her fifth book has broken through the top ten. Each subsequent book has increased heat index from the last. Her last one was the most scorching ever! Charlotte has done a lot to save the world from evil businessmen.
This was all done by pseudonym. Her husband would never tolerate her writing like that. He has pride, and will punish her severely for writing such sensational trashy story. The man is the breadwinner, and the woman is his servant. The man said and the woman obeyed. That has been the case, before and always.

"So it's okay to buy those shoes?" asked her daughter.

"Well, we still need to save money." Wendy said. She was trying to teach financial responsibility to her children. She wasn't doing a very good job. She was stroking her shoes with delight.

Her son ran to her. "Mommy! I be gettin' these boots!" he said. He has hiking boots on his feet. Not at all appropriate for school.

"That's fine. Do you want that one?" said Wendy absent-mindedly.

"Yeah mommy! I want this one!" he said.

The clerk was watching the boy took out a lot of shoes, and now she approached Wendy.

"How is everything? Are you going to buy those shoes?" She asked.

"Yes, we are." said Wendy.

"Very well, let's take them to the cash register and ring them." said the clerk.

"Mommy, are you really going to buy those shoes?" asked her daughter.

"Well," said Wendy. She couldn't bear to part with the designer shoes. "We still need to save money." Not that it matters if she has to pay full price. Wendy looked at the clerk with sad puppy eyes. "These shoes are so expensive!" she pleaded. "Will you give me a discount?"

The clerk was undecided. "Well," she said carefully. "I can give you 10% off."

"Thank you." said Wendy.

"Or I can give you a free pair of children shoes if you buy those shoes." the clerk said.

"Well, then, let's do that." said Wendy.

"How about that one?" the clerk pointed to Wendy's son's boots.

"Well, let's get another pair of these ... in white." Wendy said. "Does that mean the boots will be free?"

"Sure." the clerk said. She was making a hefty commission selling those expensive shoes.

"Mommy! Are you really going to get another pair?" asked her daughter.

"Well," said Wendy. She racked her brain for a believable excuse. "I need two just in case one breaks. Shoes break all the time, right?" Her daughter nodded. She had seen the cheap shoes break all the time. Of course, these expensive ones would not break, but her young mind failed to realize that. "And besides," continued Wendy, "These are different colors, good for different occasion!" Wendy smiled. She conveniently ignored the fact that there is no need for a different color regardless of the occasion. But these are not adult reason. These are reasons given for her young daughter.

Her daughter nodded her head vigorously. Wendy hugged her. Life was so very good.

---

Charlotte did an easy backflip. With a deft kungfu kick, she dispatched one bad guy after another. Suddenly, a gigantic shadow loomed over her. It's Dr. Demo! Actually, his name was Dr. Heissenheim Obermeyer, but everyone called him Dr. Demo due to his habit of demolishing every woodland safe haven for poor little babes and bambis of the world. Dr. Demo roared his weak tired speech. “Freedom means chaos! Everyone should obey me and I shall give them mercy!”

"'Not in a thousand years, you despotic maniac!” hissed Charlotte. “You have to kill me first!”

"My pleasure, my dear.” Dr. Demo grinned evilly, imagining the sensual sensory shenanigans that would befall our poor heroine. There must be a limit to her appetite, he thought, looking at her slim, athletic body. His ..."

Wendy was interrupted by the sound of car door closing. Her husband and children were back from shopping. They were going to celebrate his birthday. Usually, there was no celebration due to his always on the road. This time, however, he was home. Wendy quickly closed the laptop computer and shoved it under the pile of clothes under the bed. Despite her success, she hid her writing activity from her husband. He was very strict about matter of honor, and there was no way he would condone her writing such trashy novel.

She left the bedroom and met her family in the kitchen. "Did you get some fruit juice?" She asked. "You know cola is not good for you, right?" She made sure that they eat healthy food, now that they can afford it.

"Yes, mommy!" said her daughter. "We also got some fresh fruits to make smoothie!" The children do love frozen fruit smoothie.

"That's great!" said Wendy.

David went to the bedroom. "I'll put on some clean clothes, and then we can start. Is the turkey ready?"

"Yes, daddy." said Wendy. "I'll get it from the oven." Her daughter was quick to follow her, grabbing some kitchen towels to use as heat protection.

David entered the bedroom and saw the pile of clothing on the bed. He guesses that Wendy had been busy. After all, it was cooking all day long. As David was a considerate husband, he started sorting and folding the clothes, helping her. Then he saw the laptop. He frowned. Why would a laptop that was on be under the clothes? He opened the laptop and started reading.

[optional]
In the dining room, Wendy was setting up the turkey when she suddenly gasped. Her husband was in the bedroom! She knew that his habit was to pick the first clothes available. What if he picked the clothes from the pile on the bed? Quickly, she made some excuse to her children and went to the bedroom.
[end optional]

David went through the material. He was completely disgusted. His wife had been reading this filth? He must discipline his wife. No wife of his shall be associated with these kind of sexual perversions! His good name that he has been cultivating all these years would be gone. He would be the laughing stock of the family. He stood up, flushed with anger, and saw his wife standing there by the door, trembling with fear.

"Close the door." David said curtly. Wendy meekly closed the bedroom door. David surveyed Wendy very closely, his visions going red. "You know what this means, don't you?" He was waving her laptop. Wendy gulped and nodded. "How dare you do this to me?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry." Wendy said. "It's just that I got so bored, all alone."

"If you are so bored, maybe I should send you to work in the soup kitchen and do some good!" he said. "You are in no way will be associated with this trash, do you understand?"

"I'm sorry." she said. "I won't write it anymore."

"You WROTE this?" David exploded with anger. Too late Wendy realized that he thought she was merely reading it, instead of writing it. She shrank with fear. Wife must obey her husband for the image of wife is his reflection.

"You have brought dishonor to the family." he said. Wendy sank onto the bed. She couldn't stand anymore. She was weak with shame.

"It was done with pseudonym." she said. No one knows she's the writer.

"I don't care how it was done!" he said. "It should never have been done at all! Do you understand?" David was very upset. "How can you do this to me?"

"It's good money." she said.

"What money?" he asked. "A few thousand dollars here and there is not enough to make up for the dishonor you have brought upon the family!"

"It's more than that." She said. "There's a separate account."

David was so angry he had trouble speaking proper. "You mean to tell me that you have been keeping secrets from me?!"

Wendy cried with fear. "Yes."

David slapped her in the face. "How dare you? How dare you keep secrets from me?"

Wendy sobbed. Suddenly her comfortable shoes don’t matter anymore. She was about to lose the man she loved. "I was afraid you'd get angry with me." she said.

"Of course, I will get angry!" he said. "I do not marry trashy slutty women! I only associate with good ones." His honor was at stake. "But keeping secrets from me is even worse offense! I AM the head of the family!" The head of the family is responsible for the whole family. If a member of the family is keeping secrets from him, he would not be able to fulfill his role well. That would be the weakening of family bond. Nothing that was deceptive is good for the family. For Wendy to keep secret from him is to betrayed the family values he held dear.

David looked at his wife. His anger turned to sadness. He loved his wife dearly. He saw that she was truly repentant. He was upset that his wife was weak. Sure, he was away for a lot of time, but that was the nature of his job. He wished that he can get another job, one that would let him be with her every day.

"Listen," David said. "You don't do this again, understand?"

"Yes." Wendy said.

"You will obey your husband, understand?" he said.

"Yes."

"You will tell me everything that is going on, understand?"

"Yes."

"We'll keep the money in the separate account for now. It's good for college fund." he said. Wendy looked up to her husband. "By the way," he asked, "how much money is in the account, anyway?"

"Three hundred thousand dollars." she said.

"THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS?" David was shocked.

"My last book was a best seller." Wendy said. "It was number 7."

David was speechless. A best seller! He didn't think her wife had it in her. "Wait a minute. Your last book?" Wendy nodded. "How many books have you written so far?" Wendy spread out her fingers. Five. "And your last was a best seller?" Wendy nodded.

"And this results in $300,000?"

Wendy shook her head. "The money is still coming in. Royalty payments."

David was stunned.

"Listen," he said. "You are my wife and you obey me. Understand?"

"Yes." said Wendy.

"You will do everything I tell you. Understand?"

"Yes."

"You will never disobey me, ever. Understand?"

"Yes."

"You will never keep secret from me. Understand?"

"Yes."

"No matter what I tell you, you will do it. Understand?"

"Yes."

For the role of the wife is to support her husband. Without it, there is no family harmony.

---

"Yes, yes, yes.” was all she could say. She was completely helpless under his assaults. “More, more, more” her appetite was insatiable. Charlotte was completely pliant under her companion's relentless body massage. He rubbed oil all over her shoulder. Bliss. His gaze was hypnotic, as sure as his square jaw. His gentle yet firm hands rubbed away her tension her melted heart. It was love at ...

The bedroom door behind her opened. David entered bearing a glass of ice tea. "The children have gone to school." He set the glass on the table for her.

"Hmm." Wendy said. "It's not getting to the hot parts yet." David had approved her writings, under the condition that she does it anonymously, under pseudonym. After all, college fund for the children is the most important consideration of all. He also has taken more time off, focusing only on the high paying jobs. This means spending more time together. They both love it.

"So, who is it this time?" David asked. "Still Charlotte?" David started to massage Wendy's shoulder. Firm yet gentle. She was very happy.

"She's a favorite character of the readers." said Wendy. "Apparently, people like strong female characters who behaves like females, instead of male character magically transformed into females"

"Does that happen a lot?" he asked.

"All the time." she said. "Very few writers have a good handle on female characters."

"But you do." he said.

"I try. Too much bad influence."

David sat down beside her. "I believe in you." he told her.

"Thank you. I do my best."

"Make this one a best seller, too." he said. "Daddy needs a new truck."

"What's wrong the old one?" she said. "It's still works, right?"

"Oh, but AC doesn't work. It's too hot in the cab." he said.

"Just fix the AC, then. It'll be cheaper." she said.

"But the new one comes with APU. And it's solidly built. It won't break as often." he said.

"Then we'll wait until the whole truck breaks before we replace it. There's no hurry to replace the whole truck now." she said.

"But the new one is so much nicer!" he said.

"Well," she said, "If you want one right now, why don't you drive more often? Get all available jobs."

"But the sun is so hot. My arms are all tanned!"

"Why don't you get a used truck, then? And put sun screen on your arms." she said.

David was smiling at Wendy. Wendy smiled back. It's a common exchange. David doesn't really mind the old truck. He's a tough man. It's just his way to spoil his wife.
"Remember, you need to do everything I tell you to." he said. "So, if I say to make this a best seller, you must do it."

"It's not easy to write a best seller." she said. "Luck is needed." Audience can be picky sometimes. You can write well, but selling is a different matter. She continued, "Need more massage."

David was at her back instantly, massaging her shoulder. Wendy was flushed with happiness.

"Just put in more sex scenes," said David. "People respond to that." Sex sells, or so her editor said.

"I can't just put them in willy-nilly." said Wendy. "It needs to make sense. Also, the descriptions can't be identical to past writings. People will get bored."

"So, what can you do?" he asked.

Wendy thought about it for a while. She smiled. "Need more research."

David smiled. He went to the windows and pulled the curtains. Wendy laughed. "It's still morning!" she said.

"So you research in the morning and write in the afternoon." He smiled. Wendy smiled back.

Life was just perfect.

THE END.

Total Words: 7334

Blog2

Update so far

It is now the 4th week of November. My planned 50K completion didn't happen. I had actually planned to get at least 10K in the last 3 days. There have been some delays. For one thing, I didn't get home past midnight Thanksgiving Day. I had to spend the whole day recuperating. The next day, Black Friday, was spent shopping a little bit. I had made the mistake of reading 4 Hour Chef by Tim Ferriss. I couldn't stop reading. So, in the end, I didn't sleep at all. For some reason, I was also dehydrated. The end result was that Saturday was a total loss. I was bedridden all day long. And now it is Sunday night at 10 pm. I figure I have to make it up for at least 2000 words. Tough luck.

It has been an incredible journey. I can't believe how productive I was. I mean, in the beginning, I was very productive, but there's nothing like incredible pressure to succeed. The act of participating in the Nanowrimo itself was an impetus to get better. The fact is, my brain now works faster. There has been time where I spend a lot of time thinking a lot of things, and I figured that an hour has passed. Nope. Time spend was 15 minutes! That's incredible. It reminds me when I was breaking 2000g in Big Brain Academy for Nintendo DS. I chose Big Brain Academy over the more popular Brain Age because Big Brain Academy exercises are more generic. That is, the exercises were designed to improve all aspects of the brain, instead of domain specific ones like Brain Age. Too bad it didn't sell as well as Brain Age. I really missed it.

The point is, my brain is now working at hyperspeed factor. If you consider that driving a truck is a long and boring job, can you imagine the incredible productivity gained by being able to think rapidly, all day long? I became a percolator by default. Instead of pantser and planner, a percolator would just run through the story over and over again. By the time night came, I'd be ready to write on the 8th draft or something. That's incredible!

For example, it is now about 10 minutes into the typing session. Do you know how many words I typed so far? 396 words. Or about 400 words if I round it up. That's equivalent to 4000 words per hour! Do you think I can write 3000 words per hour? Yep. No problem at all. That's basically the rate of speaking. Except, I'm not speaking. I'm speaking with my finger. Mind you. This is not the keyboard I want to use for speed typing. The keyboard I want to use for speed typing is the Apple Wireless keyboard. It has short throw, you see. I can type really fast with it. To about 80 wpm. That's fast! I really like the keyboard, except that the keyboard doesn't travel well. I usually leave it at home. This time, though, I'm rather desperate. I need to type 9000 words by November 30th, and well, I don't see how I can fit in the time so that I can do it.

The interesting thing is that I am using the old Logitech keyboard as usual, and I type a lot faster than usual. Interesting how a tension and pressure to improve can do to a person. You see, Nanowrimo is a social experience, and the ability to finish 50K words is something that is to be celebrated. That's why we have writing buddies. It doesn't really matter that you finish, actually, unless you're planning to buy some software at extended discount, and you can do that by typing nonsense on the page. Just by typing random words and let the spell checker fix your misspellings. Done!

Of course, the text is the prize. Maybe you can get a discount for some sponsored software. I think saving 50% off Dragon Naturally Speaking is worth it to type random text for a while. However, the text is the prize. The ability to type fast is not as important as having your story laid down on paper. That is the real prize. Saving a lot of money on software is nice, but do you have a story? No? Then why bother? Yes? Congratulations! You don't need any of the software, now, do you?

The thing to remember is that I actually do not use Dragon Naturally Speaking right now. I can't. The original Dragon did not recognize my accent. Now, with version 12, rumors have it that it may be able to recognize different accents. That's nice. Unfortunately, when I look at the minimum system requirements, it recommends 2 GHz machine. Well, I need to check the capability of my other machine, but I don't think I will have time to get it this year. If I am to get it, I will get it next year. Maybe by that time, I will have a newfangled computer instead of my old Windows XP machine.

20 minutes in. Words: 858.

Not quite 3000 words per minutes, eh? But as long as it is over 2000 words per hour, I'm satisfied. The thing is, 2000 words per hour is what my normal rate when typing new text. So, I'm satisfied with it. Of course, 10000 words means 5 hours of typing, and I just don't know how I can fit that kind of time into the schedule. Mind you, I still have to sleep. It's too bad that Saturday was a total loss. I'd have been able to make it up no problem.
Anyway, the old computer Windows XP is so slow, it takes 20 minutes just to boot up.

Definitely not acceptable for Dragon Naturally Speaking. In fact, from time to time, Windows Update would tie up the computer. It really is annoying to see that the CPU is at 100% and yet, System Idle is as 80%. What can possibly going on? There's something fishy in there! It's the problem with Windows. System Update is full automatic. Program install is full automatic. There's just no stopping it, and so, any real time process, such as typing quickly is pretty much a goner. There's no way to schedule the process so it happened when the demand for the system is low.

I really wish I can type with Apple Wireless keyboard, though. For some reason, this Logitech keyboard is rather difficult to type. Oh, it types well enough, I suppose, but the keyboard keeps slipping. I probably need one of those lap desks, or maybe lap tray, the kind that lets you eat in bed. Yeah, that would be nice. Or perhaps, they have one of those lazy chairs with desk attachment. You know, I used to do it using a rocking chair. It was nice. I don't know if I still have a rocking chair somewhere. Probably not. I will need to get another one. Oh, well. I still need to get a computer desk for the home. I will need to get a nice one, where I can put in a rocking chair in there. Then I will be happy. My current set up is less than ideal.

Basically, I'm a horizontal typist. I like leaning back, semi inclined while typing. Full back support that way. The usual posture for office chair is too straight. The weight goes directly to the bottom, where as the lean back posture, the weight is distributed along the whole back. That's nice. I can relax and enjoy the typing session that way. Pretty fun, eh?

The time is 30 minutes. Total words so far: 1291.

In the beginning, typing was a hassle. Now, it's still is, I suppose. I purposely brought the Apple Wireless Keyboard for some heavy duty typing, and it didn't work. It worked before. I wonder if I have to change the battery. Apparently, the battery for the wireless keyboard dies quickly. I think I will need to learn to turn it off after using, otherwise, the keyboard will go to sleep mode and will be turned on with any key press, and then the battery will run down quick. I think that maybe getting a special case for it will help, but certainly not a soft padded case. I actually went into the Apple store and MicroCenter store, looking for the case for the Apple Wireless Keyboard, and they don't have it! I mean, why bother getting a portable wireless keyboard and not provide a case for it? Do they think that I will only use it on a desk? Well, without the proper travel case, yes, I will use it only when there's a desk available.

I still think that my typing rate improved. Not by a whole lot, mind you. But enough to be noticeable. Do you see that the typing rate is over 1200 words in 30 minutes? That's an improvement. It used to be around 1000 words in 30 minutes. So, yes, there is an improvement. Practice makes perfect. If I practice on typing quickly, then I will get the skill of typing quickly. Now, I'm practicing on typing the words as I say it, trying very hard to keep up with the rate of speaking. I think I'm rather successful at it, even if I have to slow down my rate of speech. The point is, if you practice perfect text and spelling, then you will get perfect text and spelling. But if you practice typing quickly, then you will get the skills of typing quickly. Now that's what I call perfect practice.

There is absolutely no reason not to do the Nanowrimo just because you know you can't finish it on time. The most important thing is to try. Even if you cannot type all that fast, you will still improve, and that's something. Moreover, if you practice every day, then your typing skill will improve. Just like playing a video game. If you play the game every day, there is no way you cannot get better. So is writing. Practice makes perfect. So what if you didn't win it this year? There's always next year, and the year after that.

One of the great Nanowrimo motivator is the local Write-in Sessions. Your Municipal Liaison will have all the details, and it behooves you to attend at least one of these sessions. I was planning to do it on Saturday, but alas, I didn't make it. Too big of a headache, you see. I was bedridden ALL DAY! So, I missed it. That's too bad. I really want to attend the meeting.

Time is now 40 minutes: Total words so far: 1798

Okay, I know I won't make 3000 words per hour, but I know I can make at least 2000 words per hour, and that's okay. The most important thing is to keep trying and constantly improving. There's a trick that I've learned in order to maximize productivity.
You see, most people, when they're facing trouble, would just work through the obstacle. They call it working 110% and I suppose that works. For them. But it doesn't work for me. I'm not the kind of guy who would just power through problems. I'm more of a go with the flow kind of guy. I think there are 2 different kinds of people. One that is too active (liver problem) and they are constantly on move. And people like me who is laid-back (lung problem) and do the minimal necessary.

If you remember the story of Anakin Skywalker (Darth Vader) and Obiwan "Ben" Kenobi. Anakin was portrayed as somebody with excess power and energy, where as Obiwan Kenobi was portrayed as someone who does things minimally. Minimum effort, Maximum result, so to speak. I'm more of Obiwan Kenobi. I really like efficiency.
So, how does this relates to Nanowrimo? Well, I'm a percolator, you see. So, I'm working on the story in my head, and while I'm doing that, I'm also doing other things. I can now drive the truck while sleeping. Not that I do that, but I can do it if I choose to. I can also do it while thinking about other things. Multi-tasking, so to speak. And the thing is, I do. I do that a lot. Of course, I need to be safety minded, and I don't do it when there are cars around. Today, for example, has a lot of Thanksgiving traffic. People are driving crazy bumper to bumper at 65 mph. Needless to say, I wasn't sleeping much. Still, I did manage to plan the writing session so that I can become productive.

Time 50 minutes. Total words so far: 2132

And now the hour is near. I think that the word count will reach 2400 words, and I'm happy. It means that I can do the whole 10000 words deal in about 4 hours. That's just one hour per day, and I will be successful. Of course, it would be nice if the whole thing is done even faster. 3 hours? Yes, that would be nice. OF course, that's impossible. I guess I just don't type that fast. However, I'm satisfied with the current progress.

You see, speed improvement doesn't happen just at the typing session. There are other things as well. Here's a trick: I layer actions. I multi-task. For example: I now develop the habit of reading while eating. I can do that easily since it only takes one finger to turn the page. This is where the old Kindle with physical button has an advantage. I can turn the page easily with the physical button, no matter how I hold the device. With the new Kindle Fire HD, I have to hold it a certain way. I need to prop the device well, or I will have difficulty in turning the pages. Therefore, I'm not throwing the old Kindle just yet.
That covers eating. How about cooking? I learn how to cook the meal using rice cooker. And it is simplicity itself. I put rice into the pan. Add water. Put in steamer basked. Add hotdogs, and I'm done! Push the cook button and 30 minutes later, steaming rice and meat, ready to eat. It really is very convenient. Just set it and forget it. I can do about 1000 words per 30 minutes, and so, doing it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner will net me 3000 words per day, just like that. Of course, that's assuming that I'm home everyday and I eat 3 times a day, which isn't true.

I'm on the road so much, that I really don't cook all that often. I did cook, though, and so I managed to type in some stories into the pot. At least figuratively. With my current set up, which is Kindle Fire HD and Logitech wireless bluetooth keyboard, I can quickly type in some text without having to wait 20 minutes for the computer to boot. Imagine that. 20 minutes just to boot the computer. There's no booting procedure with Kindle Fire HD. Just plug in and go.

It is now one hour. Total words so far: 2546.

Oh, I am so happy. That's a respectable rate there. Maybe it's not 3000 per hour, but hey, I'm still typing, and so it goes well enough. I'm starting to run out of materials so I will wrap this up. I was talking about being efficient, and laid back session. It's true. I don't really force through the hump or obstacles waiting in the way. I avoid them. How?
I am a person who likes to go with the flow. What if there's some trouble up ahead? Well, some people break or force through the obstacle. Giving 110% so to speak. I don't like to do that. It leads to early burn out. What I like to do, thought, is to set it up so that the flow doesn't go to the place where the obstacle lies.

Let me give you an example: I'm typing on Kindle Fire HD, using Logitech wireless keyboard. Why is that? It's because Kindle Fire HD does not require booting time. It's instant on! Since I never like waiting for the computer to boot, it's perfect! Actually, and Ipad will work just as well. I didn't have an Ipad. I have an Ipod Touch. It works well enough, I suppose, but I find that I like the big screen better. Since I'm too cheap to get an iPad, I decided to use Kindle instead. Unfortunately, the original Kindle Fire doesn't have bluetooth interface So, I have to go to the new Kindle Fire HD which does have bluetooth interface.

The wireless keyboard works just fine. Why wireless? Because I like to type in bed at the end of the day, and if it's not wireless, then it becomes clumsy. I don't even care where the wireless goes. I mean, I can touch type and I don't have to look at the screen. So, that's fast. Using Kindle Fire HD and bluetooth keyboard now means that I can type anywhere I want, even in bed. Not that I sleep in bed, mind you, since the bed is too comfortable that I'd fall asleep immediately. I sleep on futon, with some strategically placed comforter, simulating the shape of a lazy boy reclining sofa.

Come to think of it, maybe I should get that reclining sofa. One that comes with desk. That would be nice.

Time is now 70 minutes, Total words so far: 2943.

Like I said, it would be nice if I can do 3000 per hour. That didn't work out too well, but 3000 words per session is good enough for me. I am now feeling rather sleepy and so I will stop typing here. Remember that I'm typing in bed. Most of the time, I don't even look at what I'm typing. That and the fact that I'm doing this at the end of the day, means that sleep will soon overtake me. I don't mind that at all. In fact, I don't see why that is a problem. I can type really, really fast and I'm very happy with the current session. After all, I'm improving in all sorts of ways, not just at the typing, but life in general.
I'm layering my activities. Washing dishes, for example, used to take about 15 minutes. Now? It only takes 5 minutes. What's the difference? I used to do it by hand and just use bounty paper towel to dry the plates. Not anymore! I'm not using a custom made cloth that works really well. It cuts down the cleaning process by half. Not only that, I'm also using a special drying mat for plates. The end result is that the plates dry quicker, without much intervention from me. Ditto for cleaning other things. I just use the most convenient way to do things. Life is better in general. Even if I don't win Nanowrimo, which I can foresee right now, I'd still be better off in real life.

And isn't that the ultimate goal? To be a better person today compared to what was yesterday? The only easy day is yesterday. Constant improvement. And that's the way to do it.

I am going to finish this session. Typical of me, I like to take a lot of breaks. So, I guess you can say that my stamina isn't too good. But that's me. Yes, I like to take a lot of breaks. That's fine. Little by little, not even a big mountain can withstand of being dug. Keep moving. Keep improving. Keep pushing. All the way to 50000 words. Be a Nanowrimo winner!

Yeah, that will be nice.

The time is now 80 minutes. Total words: 3319.

Note to Self: Finish Line

Now is the time for all Nanowrimo participants to start uploading their novel. If by this time you haven't done so, then it is time for desperate measure. Start typing 100 words per minute. Use this template:
asdflk ja;k dfalk sdf;lk asdf;lka jsd;lk a;j f;akfj ;lakjdf;alj f;l af;ls df;lkjdf;ljsd
Get it? Got it! Good!
Let's get cracking! Finish that novel!

Note to Self: Fourth Weekend

It is now the fourth weekend of Nanowrimo. The schedule is 2000 words per day. By today, I need to have 56,000 words written. How many words have you written today?

Married Life: Gone Fishing

THIS MARRIED LIFE - GONE FISHING

I wonder why it is easier for a man to change his diet if there is hanging, clubbing, and gutting involved. Had it been for reasons of health, there would be no change whatsoever. Yet, that is what happened to my husband. What would suddenly cause a man to be possessed by the desire to hook a living creature and reel it, I cannot even imagine.

"Honey, take a look at this!" my husband called. "What do you think?" Of course, this is just formality. He already made up his mind. It is encumbered upon me to figure out what he wants. It's like he expected me to read his mind.

"That's nice, dear." I said. The newspaper he was holding showed a sale on the nursery. "I think we can hang the tomato on the porch overlooking the yard."

"Tomato?" he asked incredulously. "What are you talking about?" Well, the advertising does show tomatoes.

"This ad you're showing me." I said.

"Oh, that." he said. Yes, that. What else could he be showing me? "I was thinking about this one, instead." He was pointing to HUNTING TOWN ad, showing the fishing tournament that is sponsored by the city.

"But, dear," I said, "we don't even have a fishing gear."

"So, we buy some." he said. "How hard can it be?" Oh, no. Here we go again. Didn't his experience in turkey hunting (read: no turkey) taught him anything? Why do I have to go through this all over again?

"So, you want to go fishing?" I asked.

"Sure, wouldn't you?" he asked.

"No, I don't." I said. "I want to sit here in this couch and watch TV!"

"Haha, you're funny." he said. "Get ready, we'll be going in 10 minutes." Like I said, asking me the question is just formality. What he wants, he gets.

<hr>

"Have you seen anything more exciting that these?" my husband asked belatedly. We were surveying several fishing rods. I really can't tell the difference between them, although I can definitely say that if I have to name a brand name for a fishing rod, it wouldn't include the word "ugly" in the name.

"Yes, dear." I said. "I believe shopping at the mall would be more exciting." Don't you just love the mall? I mean the atmosphere is so welcoming there. I just love browsing through the goods. Just window shopping.

"Look at this!" my husband is just like a child with his new toys. "This one is made of graphite."

"That's nice." I guess they stopped making fishing rods from bamboo a long time ago.

"And this one is made from carbon fiber." he said. "Very light."

"That's nice." As far as I'm concerned, one black rod is as good as the other. Except maybe the price.

"Can you tell which one is better?" asked my husband. Since he's not a fisherman, he didn't know either.

I went over and looked at the price. The graphite one was cheaper. "I like this one, dear."
"Ha," he said. "That shows you how much you know." Well, then why did you ask? "This one is better." he was handling the expensive rod like he already owned it. "This one is carbon fiber, see?"

"I see." I see that it was made of carbon fiber. I fail to see how that was better.

"Carbon fiber is very light." my husband said. "It's great."

I picked up the graphite one. It was very light. "I don't see why this one is bad. It's very light."

"Yes, but this is lighter." he said.

"Well, I really don't see why this is bad." I said. "It's already light. Why should we go lighter?"

"To catch big fish." he said.

That doesn't make sense. Lighter means more fragile. It means the lighter model is not suitable for catching big fish. "Doesn't that mean the rod will break?" I asked. "It's too light!"

"Nonsense" he said. "You don't get tired too quickly when you use the light fishing rod."
"I really don't see why it would be so tiring." I said.

"Well, why don't you get it, then? Then you'll see." he said.

"Why should I get it?" I asked. "You don't expect me to go fishing with you, right?" The way I see it, he goes fishing and I stay at home, watching TV. Win-win. Alas, it was too easy.

"Of course, you'll get one." he said. "I wouldn't go fishing without my favorite wife."

"Then don't go fishing." I said, offering a perfectly reasonable argument. "I don't like to pull hooks out of their mouth anyway." Fish are icky little creatures that are best left alone, or at least, let somebody else cook them for you.

"But the competition!" said my husband. "Don't forget that!" I didn't forget. It's just that I'd rather watch TV.

"Yes, dear." I said. "What's the prize?"

"A picture on the newspaper." he said. "Hey, about this?"

That's it? A picture on the newspaper? Then why bother?

A clerk was approaching us. "How are you guys doing?" he asked politely.

"We're fine, thanks." I said politely. "Why do you stop carrying bamboo fishing poles?" Okay, so I'm a cheapskate. I really don't see the point of purchasing carbon fiber fishing pole when some cheap bamboo rod will do.

"Oh, but we do." the clerk said. "It's over there by the fly-fishing section."

"Fly fishing?" I asked. Why would anybody would fish a fly is beyond me. Perhaps it is a new sport. Having run out of fish, people would cast for bugs.

"Sure." the clerk said. "Please come this way." He led us to the back row where they have various feathers on display. "That there are the flies, and this here are the tools to make them. The rods are over there."

Oh, silly me. The flies are the bait. So, they're not fishing flies. They're tying flies to attract fish. "Do fish actually eat flies?" I asked.

"Sure. They eat all kind of bugs." the clerk said. "These various feathers mimics different insects, so depending on the fish you want to catch, you use different feathers."

My husband was looking very happy. He was eyeing the fly tying equipment. It's not that he's a fan of fly fishing, but anything that looks like new and shiny mechanical toys would hold his interests greatly.

"We have a DVD that explains everything." said the clerk helpfully. Thank you. However, what I need for now is something to distract my husband so that he does not purchase the tying equipment. Most likely, it will end up collecting dust in the basement before long.

"Do you have a beginner set?" I asked. Perhaps it would be cheaper, and does not involve buying expensive toys.

"Sure." the clerk said. "You want bamboo rod, is that right?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Well, the beginner set does not come with bamboo rod." the clerk said. "But you can purchase it separately." How come the beginner set does not come with bamboo rod? Unless, the rod they're packaging is cheaper than bamboo. That does not make sense. What could be cheaper than bamboo?

"What kind of rod does it come with?" asked my husband.

"Oh, it's standard rod." the clerk said. "I think it may be glass rod."

"The rod is made of glass?" I asked. It certainly sounded like it would be brittle. Is there a fishing rod made of glass?

"Fiberglass." said the clerk. Oh, why didn't you say so in the first place? "It's pretty cheap rod, although it serve its purpose. That way you won't care if it breaks."

"So, it breaks easy?" I asked.

"Of course, not." the clerk said. "Well, not while fishing. Remember, though, that this is for beginner. Kids, mostly. They may play with it, or perhaps sit on it. Then it may break."

"Wouldn't the rod break if the fish is big?" I asked.

"Not really." the clerk said. "The fishing line would break first."

"The string looks pretty thick." observed my husband. "I don't think it will break easy."

"Oh, that." the clerk said. "It's thick so that it doesn't snap when you cast it. You're right. It doesn't break easy." My husband smiled. He must be happy because he's right about something. "That's why you put in a leader on the line."

"A leader?" I asked.

"A regular fishing line between the casting line and the fly." said the clerk. "That way if the fish is too big, the leader line would break, and not the rod."

"Makes sense." I said.

"It's all in the DVD." said the clerk. "So, you want to get the kit and the DVD?" He was looking all ready to close the sale. I must say that if I actually want to buy a fishing set, he had put forth a very convincing pitch. I have completely forgotten that my husband actually wanted to buy one. In fact, come to think of it, my husband was probably ready to whip out his credit card. "If you buy today, that's 50% off!"

"It's very popular with everybody, I'm sure." I'm getting onto the way these sales people try to off load their merchandise. Maybe I can work here and sell something.

"Ah, not really." the clerk looked embarrassed. "Usually people just buy the regular set." He indicated the section we were in. "Not too many people are interested in fly fishing around here."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Well, tying flies is really rather inconvenient. Also, there is a skill involved in casting." Here he made some wide casting motion that was all over the place. He was gyrating wildly. No wonder people don't like it. It looks complicated, at least. "And the reeling is also less convenient. All manual."

"The reeling is manual?" I asked. "Does that mean the regular fishing gear is automatic?"

"Not push button automatic." the clerk said. "But it's certainly easier to do. You just push button to cast, then release the button to lock it, and let the rod do the work. Very much fool proof."

"Then why would people want to use fly fishing? If you don't mind my asking." I feel sorry for the clerk. It must be hard trying to sell goods nobody wants.

"The equipment is strong, and solid." the clerk said. "Also, there is nostalgia involved. Not to mention that some people have highly developed fishing skill that they can have more control with manual gear than automatic ones." So, there are good reasons to get it, after all. Maybe I shouldn't feel sorry about it. "But for most people, the normal set is easier to use."

"Well, let's get the normal set, then." I said. Mind you, my husband has never fished before, and neither have I.

"Sure." the clerk said. "I can show you what's really selling here. Not to mention, they're discounted 50% off!" Never fail to mention sale price any chance you get. Got it loud and clear. "If you stock up now, you can really save a bundle!"

"Stock up what?" I asked.

"The fishing set!" the clerk said.

"The set is not complete?" I asked.

"Well, the set is complete, in the sense that you have everything you need." the clerk said. "But there are other items that make your fishing experience much more enjoyable, and I think you should get those, as well." Okay. Let the gouge the customer session begin. This is where the platinum titanium fishing rod comes into being. Some ultra exotic materials are necessary for the optimum fishing experience.

"What else would we want?" I asked.

"At the minimum, polarized sun glasses." the clerk said. "These are special polarized sunglasses, designed to let you see past the water reflection so you can see the fish under water."

"Water does reflect light." I admitted. "So these glasses remove all the reflections?"

"Exactly." the clerk said. "You won't believe the difference. I couldn't believe it myself, but once I tried it, I never go fishing without it."

"That's nice." I said. "Thank you for bringing it up."

"My pleasure." the clerk said. "I will be happy if your fishing experience is a great one. I, for one, wish that more people know the joy of fishing."

I don't think fishing experience can be described as joyful. Maybe peaceful. Or relaxing. Or boring. Or rod-breaking frustration. It depends on the person, I guess.

"And here it is, a beginner set." the clerk pulls out one of those all-in-one set. "Very popular."

I noticed that the rod comes in two pieces. I bring that to my husband attention. My husband happily examined it. "We want two of these." he said. "By the way, this doesn't screw."

"Oh, no." the clerk admitted. "You just push it in together. They stick well." the clerk made some firm movement. "You may want to use your knees to pull them apart." he demonstrated the movement. It does look strong.

"But, without the screw, wouldn't it come apart with the fish hanging on the hook?" asked my husband.

"Oh, no." the clerk said. "Just keep the rod vertical, and it'll be fine. It will only come off if you hold the rod horizontal." the clerk assured my husband. "So you want two of these?" the clerk picked out another one.

"How about that one?" I asked the clerk, pointing to a box, with a mini fishing rod inside."

"Oh, you don't want that one." The clerk said. "It's for kids."

"So?" I asked.

"It's telescoping rod." the clerk said. "Very poor fishing experience."

"I think it would be convenient." I said.

"Easy set up." the clerk admitted. "But poor fishing experience.

"The rod is too short," he continued. Bad tactile feedback. May as well fish with PVC pipes."

"How much does the PVC pipe version cost?"

"My wife is just joking." said my husband. "She doesn't really want PVC pipe fishing rod." I do, too! Well, depends on the price.

"We don't sell PVC pipes, ma'am" said the clerk. "You can try one of those home improvement stores." Oh, I get it. The clerk was kidding, and I, the fool woman, just went headlong into it. I don't know how my husband can detect this thing, but apparently, he was just kidding into it. So, the question is, how do I make a recovery and not be so foolish looking?

"Oh, darn." I said. "Maybe you can sell me one made of 2 by 4." Oh, brilliant recovery. I knew it was so corny as soon as I said it. The clerk only made a wry, embarrassed smile. Maybe it's not a brilliant recovery after all.

"Well," said my husband." We don't need anything else, do we?"

"I would suggest that you get these, too." the clerk brightened visibly. "You want a scale, a ruler, a nail clipper..."

"Why would we want a nail clipper?" I asked. Last time I checked, fish don't come with claws. It's not like they'd be clawing our hands. Off with your filthy hands! I'm a water based animal. None of this land lubber job on me! The fish would say. I certainly had trouble visualizing clipping nails with fish.

"Oh, the nail clipping is for the fishing line." the clerk said. "It makes a nice clipper, because it's very inconvenient if you use scissors."

"How about that, then?" I pointed out to a big wire cutter. I thought that it would make better line clipper.

"Oh, you can use that." The clerk admitted. "I use it myself."

"So you clip lines with that?" I asked.

"Yes." the clerk said. "It's very useful to have. You clip lines with it. Cut hooks. Hit the fish on the head." Wait a minute. Hit the fish on the head? Isn't that animal cruelty?

The clerk continued," I also have mine marked with notches. To check whether or not the fish is large enough."

"How large is large enough?" I asked. "And do you hit the head on small fish to make them grow?"

The clerk laughed. "Funny joke!" he said. "I think your wife is a great comedian." Well, excuse me. I'm not trying to be funny on purpose! "You hit the head on the fish to kill it. Stop it from squirming." Oh, that. "Those are the ones you keep. The small ones you let go. Catch and release."

"Must you kill them?" I asked. My husband rolled his eyes.

"Oh, no." the clerk said. "Sometimes you want to catch a lot of them, and you want to keep them fresh, but not carry a large bucket. So, you hook them on the chain and keep them in the water." He held up a chain riddled with hook loops. "You just hook the fish to these loops, and they keep fresh until you're ready to leave." Oh, what animal cruelty. First you hook them, and then you hang them. Then you tow them around. Then you drop them on the back seat of the car until they flop dead. I don't know a thing about fishing, but I don't like it already.

"Why would you want to release them?" my husband asked, "Even if they're too small?"

The clerk shrugged. "Regulations. They prohibits catching small ones to they'd have a chance to reproduce. It keeps the fish population healthy."

"Is that so?" my husband asked.

"If you want to keep all your catches," the clerk explained. "There are fish farms that are open to the public. In fact, they mostly forbid releasing any fish that are caught back to the pool. It keeps the fish ignorant as to what food is."

"Maybe we should go there, instead." I suggested to my husband.

"Haha, my wife is joking." my husband said.

"There's no sporting in those places." The clerk looked disgusted. "You can even catch them with bare hook!" He shakes his head solemnly, as if catching ignorant fish is a bad thing. Personally, I don't think there's anything wrong with catching stupid, ignorant fish. In fact, it would be easier, don't it?

"The thrill of fishing is man against nature!" My husband said. "Catching those fish in a farm is just like shooting fish in a barrel."

"There's nothing wrong with that." I said. "And if you get one from the supermarket, they'll even prep it for you!"

My husband and the clerk both laughed together. "My wife: the comedian." my husband declared. I take it that I just said something stupid, unintentionally. Why is it with these men? Can't they see that getting fish from the store is much more convenient than getting out to the wild and catch some?

"Won't the fish be hurt when you release them from the hook?" asked my husband.

"Oh, good question!" the clerk brightened. "See these hooks? You have to prep them."
I looked at the hooks, "They look fine to me."

"See, the hooks has barbs on them, to catch the fish." The clerk pointed out.

"Yes. I see." I said. "Isn't catching the fish the point?" What pun! Maybe I should be a comedian after all.

"Well, in catch and release situation, you don't want the barbs." explained the clerk. "So, you file them off." he made some filing motion. "We sell those, too."

"But won't the fish getaway?" I asked.

"If you keep the tension, it won't." the clerk said. "Just keep the fishing rod bend until you get the fish. Scoop the fish with the net."

"Really?" I asked.

"Sure." the clerk said. "Now some fish are tricky and go back and forth. If the fish goes to you so quick that the line goes slack, there is a possibility that the hook may come off, and the fish will got away."

"Oh, that would be bad." I said. I guess we don't want fish to get away when we fish for them.

"It happens." the clerk said. "Just keep practicing, you'll get better at it." He nodded sagely. "I can't remember the last time a fish got away from me." He bragged. Okay, maybe he didn't bragged. Just stating facts. "But it does happen occasionally. Especially in tangled situation where the fish would circle a stump and hang the lines." The clerk nodded sagely.

"Honey, how about these?" my husband was eyeing some fillet knives and cutting board pack.

"Oh, yes." the clerk smiled. "That's very handy if you want to eat what you catch immediately."

"Why would we want that?" I asked.

"There's nothing better than grilling a fresh caught fish!" the clerk declared. "We also sell some portable grills." He was rubbing his hands eagerly. "And they're 50% off!"

My husband looked at me like a kid in a candy store. "Okay. That's enough." I said to my husband. "We're done here!"

Total words: 3526

"Let's get some clothing." my husband said.

"Why would we want some new clothes?" I asked. "We're going fishing! We don't need new clothes!" Honestly, these specializations are getting into me. Specific clothes for swimming, biking, golfing. Golfing! Why do you need funny pants to golf?

"These are specialized for fishing, see?" said my husband.

"So, what's the difference?" The only difference that I can see is the price. We can get 3 shirts from regular stores. 4 if they're on sale.

"See, this material?" my husband was rubbing his fingers on the shirt. "See how smooth and thin this is?"

"Yes?" Well, they are shiny, and silky.

"These dries out quick. So, you can get wet and not catch a cold." my husband said. I may be mistaken, but as I understand it, you get some fishing rod so that you don't get into the water. Therefore, you stay dry. Unless I'm missing something and that there's a new fishing technique that involves diving into the river before casting the line.

"Do you expect to get wet?" I asked my husband.

"No, I don't." said he.

"Well, then why get it at all?" I'm the official cheapskate in the family. My husband is the big spender. One who has it all.

"It's a fishing shirt! It makes for a complete set!"

"If you're not getting into the water, then we don't have to get it. Why don't you wear your favorite t-shirt? It'd be just as good." I purposely inject his favorite t-shirt for a reason. It's a subtle hint that maybe he will have a good time doing it. A little subterfuge on my part.

"Are you sure that's enough?" he asked.

"Of course."

"All right, honey. I guess you're right." my husband said.

Thank you. Now, we don't have to get into this buy new shirt business. We can save some money after all.

"Let's get the fishing pants. instead." my husband said.

Or maybe not. Sigh.

"Look, honey. These come with pockets." my husband said.

"Yes, dear." the pants do come with big pockets. "Maybe you can stuff the big clipper into it."

"Haha, you're funny." my husband said. "I'm glad you're having fun." Am I? "Maybe you can get some fishing pants, too?"

"Why should I?" I asked. "I won't be getting into the water."

"Maybe the fish is stubborn and we need to get into the water to catch the fish." my husband said.

"I will leave such thing to you, dear." I said. "After all, you're the one with fishing pants!" I'd rather let the fish go than go into the water and melt. Did I say melt? I meant, I may catch a cold of something. How? I don't know. Something about wet ankle and me that doesn't mesh. The only way I get wet if I'm in to comfort of my home or maybe spa. Yes, that's about right. Massage and spa would be nice.

"Alright, then. One pair of fishing pants for me." my husband said. "Are you sure you won't get any?"

"I'm sure, dear." I just want to sit on my comfy couch and watch TV. I don't need fishing pants for that.

"How about you getting one of these fishing vests?" my husband said. Well, they do have vests.

"Why do they have so many pockets?" I asked. There's even one big pocket in the back.

"I don't know." my husband said. "To catch fish?"

"I'm pretty sure you don't stuff fish in your back pocket." I said.

"Maybe just the bait?" he offered.

"The bait?" I asked. "I thought that would go in front."

"Oh, maybe plastic ones go in front. Live one goes to the back?" he seemed unsure. Not that I worry about that. I worry about the 'live' part of the bait. There is a reason the baits are made of rubbery plastic after all.

"Live bait?" I asked.

"Oh, worms, crickets and such." my husband said non-chalantly. I tried to imagine wriggling worms in my back vest pocket. I almost fainted.

"Why don't you get it, dear?" I suggested diplomatically. My husband was all smiles.

"Well, these do look good," he said. He tossed one into the shopping cart. "How about the hat?"

"What about the hat?" I asked.

"Should we get some fishing hat?" he said.

"There are hats made just for fishing?!" That was rather hard to believe.

"Keeps shade, and sun away from you." my husband said. That does not make sense. He tossed a couple into the cart.

"What size did you get me?" I asked.

"Extra large." he said. I guess that means I'm a brainiac creature, or one with large hair do.

"Why would a hat be specialized for fishing?" I asked.

"I don't know." my husband said. "Maybe to stick hooks onto it?"

"Isn't that dangerous?" I said. "Besides, we have the vest, don't we?"

"I don't know." he admitted. "But it can shade you from the sun."

"Any hat will do." I said. "And we already have several."

"We have baseball caps." my husband said. "So, they're not hats. Trust me. All fishermen wear hats."

"Okay, then." I said. "We're done here, right?"

"Oh, I don't know." said my husband. "How about those?" he pointed to some waders.

"Waders? Why would you want that?" Sometimes my husband gets carried away.

"To keep your legs dry when fishing." he said.

"Isn't that why you're getting some fishing pants?" I said, "So that it doesn't matter if you get wet?"

A clerk was wandering. "Excuse me," I called him. "We don't need these waders to fish, do we?"

"Oh, are you going to fish in that competition?" he asked.

"Yes, we are."

"Then you don't need those." the clerk said. Thank you. Now we don't have to spend any more money.

"But what if we need to get into the water to catch stubborn fish?" my husband asked.

"Oh, you just get one of those shorts." the clerk said. "You don't go in for deeper than knee deep in water."

"We have fishing pants." I pointed out.

"Oh, that will do just as well." the clerk said.

"See?" I told my husband. "We don't need these waders!" Triumphant, I basked in my glory. The cheapskate won this round! My husband said nothing.

"Are you planning to wear those shoes when fishing?" the clerk asked.

"Oh, yes we are. Why?" I asked.

"If you plan to get into the water, I suggest some quick dry shoes." The clerk said. "Or some sandals."
Oh, that's right. We don't have waterproof sandals. We don't wear sandals in the shower.

The clerk smiled, mischievously. "We do sell some." he said. "And like all fishing items, they're 50% off!"

My husband looked at me, and well, there's nothing I could say. The spender won this round after all.

<hr>

"Let's get this camera, honey" my husband was viewing a row of electronic cameras with glee. He always does that whenever bright and shiny objects presented themselves.

"What for?" I asked.

"To take a picture of the fish!" my husband said.

"Why should we take picture of the fish?" I asked.

"Everybody takes picture of the fish." he said.

"Why?"

"I don't know." he said. "It's tradition."

"Well," I said, "Let's not get it, then." I'm saving our budget from being reduced by $450.

"But everybody takes picture of the fish!" my husband said.

"A fish look just like the other." I said. "Why would you want to take a picture of it?"

"To show pictures of the fish." my husband said. "To show people what big fish we catch."

"That's assuming we'll catch some fish." Which if the fishing newbies among us is any indication, we won't catch any.

"Of course, we'll catch some fish." my husband said. "Big ones! Trophy worthy one."

"Don't they have photographer for that?" I asked.

"Yes, they do." my husband said. "But we also want to take pictures of our own."

"We already have a camera." I said.

"Yes, but not a fishing camera." he said. Wait. What? A fishing camera? I don't know they make one. Is fishing such a big deal that there's a special camera optimized to take pictures of fish hanging from the hook? Maybe one of those picture frames built-into the picture: Biggest fish of the year. Or maybe Biggest Liar on Planet.

"Well," I said, scanning the cheap row. "How about this one then?" That one cost $15. A relative freebie considering the amount of money we were spending to catch one little fish.

"That's a cheap camera." sneered my husband.

"It's waterproof" I said. "We want one that is waterproof, right?"

"Well," my husband was scanning the premium section. "That's true." He kept looking and looking and never did he find an expensive waterproof camera. I smiled. Cheapskate won this round.

<hr>

For a town competition, the actual fishing tournament took place in some remote woodsy location. The lake had just been seeded with fish. Everybody was having a good time, except me. I pointed out to my husband that nobody wears a fishing hat except us. My husband ignored me completely.

My husband and I were casting in our assigned spot. We have a rather quiet spot to ourselves. The organizer took a quick look at our quick dry shoes and decided that a place to cast with wading pool is just right for us. Some of the other competitors ran around the lake with high speed boats. I rather question the need for going around the lake with 110 hp motorboats.

"So, how are we doing, dear?" I cast the line into the water and let it sink.

"Honey," my husband said. "I think you need to reel in the line."

"I'll reel the line when there's a fish attached." I said.

"See, this?" my husband was holding a plastic worm. "It's designed to wriggle when being pulled in the water." my husband cast the line. "So, when you reel it in gently, it wiggles in the water." he demonstrated the technique.

"If that's true, then how come you're not catching any?" I said. My husband was reeling the plastic worm at a brisk pace. If the fish was as lazy as I am, it wouldn't bother catching the energetic worm, plastic or no.

My husband rolled his eyes at me. "Do you know what we need?"

Sure, I do. "A couple of chairs?" It's true. We forgot to carry them with us. Now, we're doomed to fish while standing. I miss my couch and my TV. Why can't we have them while fishing, anyway? After all, fishing is just casting line and sitting around doing nothing.

"Haha, you're funny." my husband said. "What we need is some live bait!" Oh, those wriggly worms. Do they actually want me to hook those creatures alive? They said the wriggly ones are best. I say the plastic ones are better. They don't squirm in your hand trying to get away from some nasty end.

"I don't see why we need live worms." I said. "The plastic ones do just as well." It's not like we're going to catch some fish, after all.

"I think live worms would definitely be better." my husband said. "They're not colored yellow."

"They're brown and hard to see." I said. "Don't you think yellow is easier to see?"

"Well, the fish will have sensors, and they're attuned to live worms, not plastic ones." my husband said. Oh, right. Fishy sensors. They sound fishy to me. I should quit my job and take up new career as comedian.

"If you want some live worms," I said. "I'm sure there'd be ones around here." Fish don't get big unless they eat worms, and well, I'm sure that whatever it is they eat must be around here somewhere. My husband looked at me as if I came from Mars, well, Venus. I shrugged.

"I think we need to get some chair." I said. "I think I'll go back and get one." I really want to sit.

I reeled in my line, and it caught.

The fishing rod was bending. "Look at the lines, dear, I think I caught something."

"Probably stuck on a stump, somewhere." my husband said.

"Oh, no, I don't think so." I said. "Do you see a stump somewhere here?"

"Or maybe a rock or something." Thank you Mr. Critic. Here I catch something, and you disapprove?" Then the line skipped. My heart leaped with joy! My husband looked over me with jealousy. Yeah, who got the fish now?

My husband quickly reeled in his line and got the net. "Okay, honey," he said, "Pull the fish into the net!" Easier said than done. The fish was very stubborn.

"I'm trying, dear." I said. The fish was rather heavy. Pulling the fish step by step took a while. After a while, it seemed stuck.

"Well?" my husband asked. "Why can't you pull it?"

"It seems stuck."

"Nonsense, he said. “You can do it."

"I'm trying." I was pulling rather firmly, but I don't want to pull too hard. Maybe the fish is being clever and hid behind a stump after all.

"Here, let me do it." my husband said. I don't see how he could have fared better. Neither of us had fished before, after all. It didn't stop my husband, though. He simply grabbed my rod and took over. I really wished for that chair.

My husband was struggling, too. Apparently, he couldn't get the fish out of the stump, bush, rock, or whatever it was the fish was hiding under. "Well?" I asked my husband.

"Get the camera, honey." my husband said. "This one is a big one!"

"So, I caught a big one?" I asked. Trophy winning fish, and I caught it! "It sure is nice that my fish is a big one."

"It's not your fish, honey." my husband said. Excuse me? It's my fish. It's my rod. I caught it! "I'm the one who reels it in. So, it's my fish." This is a robbery! I'm the one who caught it. "Now bring me the net. We'll have it at any moment!"

I grumpily brought the net to him. It's my fish!

My husband was struggling mightily. The rod was bending to unholy angle. I don't think the fish is that big. My husband was humping and puffing when the rod broke. Why was I not surprised? Not the fish would just get away with no tension on the line. Catch and release, with release part being unintentional.

My husband screamed like a banshee, and grabbed the net from my hand. Then, while keeping the tension on the line, he jumped into the lake. He kept the tension while he closed in to the fish. I marveled at his tenacity and energy. He never seemed to have that kind of energy while raking the leaves on the garden. Maybe I should get some scissors and trim the leaves to the shape of the fish.

He finally got to place where the fish hid, and he maniacally plunged the net over and over trying to catch the fish. Finally, in an act of desperation, he dove into the water and yanked the line with both hand. The line got free of the stump. And at the end of the line, there hung a bright, red waterlogged sneaker.

"It's not my shoe," my husband would later said. "It's her shoe! It's her rod. It's her SISSY rod!"

But now he just stared dumbfounded at the shoe. He slowly turned and looked at me. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Taking pictures," I smiled sweetly.

<hr>

"Nice fish, honey." my husband said. He was enjoying his meal after the day's activities.

"It's tuna, dear." I said. Too bad, it's not 50% off. After spending all that money on fishing equipment, we didn't catch any.

"Too bad, we have to cut short our fishing expedition." my husband said. Expedition? If a trip to a local lake is an expedition, then going to another town must rate a trip to the moon. "We could have won the competition, you know."

"Well," I said, "Anything is possible."

"It's true." my husband said. "Last year's winner was an amateur." Well, that part is true. But while going back to the car, I saw some of the professionals on their high powered motor boat catching some very big fish. Even if an amateur would win it, it wouldn't be with fish the size of our shoe.

"Yes, dear."

"We should have bought that fishing shirt." my husband said. "That way, the shirt will dry out quick. And we won't have to go back." Oh, right. He did dive into the lake. Why didn't I think that he would do that?

"Or that wader?" I asked. If my husband wants to go into the lake, may as well do it intentionally.

"The wader won't help." he said. "Maybe it's better to get the tube." Huh?

"The tube?" I asked.

"You know what I'm talking about." my husband said. "The one with optional motor attached." Motor? "The one by the boat section."

Oh. Okay. I know where this is going. This is where we end up selling our car in order to buy a boat more expensive than a car. "Well, dear." I said as gently as possible, "if you want to float on the lake in a tube all day, you may do that." My husband looked at me expectantly. "Of course, if you do that, then I'd have no choice but to take numerous pictures of you floating on water looking like an overgrown clown, and laugh about it."

I have a wonderful husband with a great sense of humor and he dropped the subject completely.

Words: 6526