Road trip

I took Friday off, and we went to Bennett Spring State Park near Lebanon, Missouri. It's one of the state trout hatcheries, and sort of "our place." We've been going to Bennett Spring for probably about thirty years, and my parents took me and my brother and sisters there when we were little. It's one of my favorite places.

I left work a couple of hours early on Thursday night, and we drove down. Bob got up early on Friday morning and was out when they blew the whistle at, I think, 6:30. I stayed in bed. Sometime a little after 8:00 I woke up to the sound of thunder, and got up shortly after that. I was in the bathtub when Bob came in--I had assumed that it had just started raining when I woke up, but he said it had been raining since he got out there.

He was soaking wet. Which wouldn't have been too bad, except that his fishing vest was soaking wet, too, and it was apparent it probably wouldn't dry out until time to go home. So we went to Bass Pro in Springfield, mostly for something to do, but also to buy him a new vest. He ended up buying a new fly rod and reel, some flies, line, and all don't know what all. I got a new pair of sunglasses and some "Kiss My Bass" underwear, which he's been threatening to buy me for years.

I joked with the guy in the fly fishing department that at least he didn't buy a boat . . .

When we got back to the park on Friday afternoon, he fished below the dam:

I was just another of the old women sitting in folding chairs, watching their men fish. My bangs have finally grown out, and I'm wearing my new sunglasses:

On Saturday we went to breakfast in the dining lodge, then wandered around the trout holding pens. Bob was taking pictures, and I said we should do an action shot, and he said, "Pretend you're falling in!"

Pretending (not very convincingly) to fall into a trout pen:

We walked around, and I saw some interesting ornamental concrete block constructions, and hopped up on one. Bob said, "What are you doing?" I said, "I want to sit here," and he took my picture. Then I scooted off and scratched the backs of my legs. Ouch.

Bob said it was too hot to fishin the middle of the day, so we drove to Camdenton and went to Bridal Cave. I'm not a huge fan of caves; I don't hate them or anything, I think they're cool, but they're wet and cold, and I'm always afraid I'm going to slip, so rather than looking up and admiring everything, I tend to keep my eyes on my feet. And I can't really think about it too much or they make me feel weird. Bob said being in a cave makes him feel safe; I can't say the same for me.

Looking out over the lake after the cave tour. Right after he took this picture, I reached up and got the hair out of my face. Too late, though.

On Saturday evening, after we took a nap, he fished in a different part of the stream, and I sat on a bench in the shade and read.

Pyewacket was very glad that Bob was home.