Easter Fishing and the Cardinal Cross
At a coffee shop, in Port A (Port Aransas), a young server looked me over, I was just in from fishing and glowing red with sun burn compounded with wind burn, and replied to a question about the holiday.
“Easter–it’s a pagan thing, you know, I was raised catholic, it’s all pagan.”
Give me that “Old Time” religion.
Capricorn guy was making me a cappuccino, “You do know, Jesus wasn’t really born December 25?”
I nodded.
Left the dock at 8 in the morning, arrived back after 3, caught no fish to keep. Really, didn’t catch much of anything. Still, had a blast. One of my buddies, “No screaming kids. No phones, no e-mail, no adult workers acting like children, this is great.”
Other buddy, when I nodded towards making a run back to dock, to a warm motel room with a cool pool, he asked, “If we were catching, would you be ready to leave?”
No.
So we stayed, and my face will peel, but I’ll be back soon.
Previous Reports:
- 2011 mention — 2013 bit here — and the most recent — plus this…
The Texas weather has been more volatile than usual, erring towards unseasonably, and almost unreasonably, cold. Sporadic rain, but no quenching floods to speak of, still a drought, and one day, before Easter, I left SA in 39 degree weather, to see 84 later that same day. Bipolar weather.
The Cardinal Cross leaves folks a little bipolar, like the weather, and I can easily blame the astrology conditions for that. Cranky, irascible clientele, sure, no problem, I understand. What I’m here for, some days.
My buddies, both stable Aquarius type, both complained about work. No fish for one, and upper management doing a Dilbert for the other. Not catching really doesn’t matter when one is the middle of the bay.
As I predicted at the beginning of the year, this kind of conditions make for good business.
Right before I departed for the coast, an occasional client asked about the “Blood Moon,” and I’m thinking, “Libra.” Which means that’s part of the cardinal cross, making so many people unhappy. I had a jaunty little tale about spilled coffee, and a bag of leaky tacos.
When we left out of Port, to fish? I knew the fish were going to be largely uncooperative. It was a chance to be on the water, and my buddy, facing his wife, hours later, still smiling?
“I’m so so sorry honey, there’s no cell reception in the middle of the bay — I didn’t get the message.”
Her almost terse response? “You know, that would be easier to believe if you hadn’t been texting me.”
The universal axiom, doesn’t so much apply to me, as I rather enjoy my job, cranky, obstreperous clientele included, but my buddy echoed it, “Dude, ‘A bad day fishing is better than a good day at the office’ so true.”
