I begin writing this ramble of a post around 6 PM on New Year’s Eve. It’s that no man’s land where you want to stay up to ring in the new year with a bang, but you don’t want to wait another six hours to do so. I’m an oldhead now, I need my sleep!
At least there’s some College Football Playoffs tonight (Penn State vs. Boise State) to keep me occupied… until K.C. inevitably wants to watch Anderson Cooper & Andy Cohen do shots and giggle at each other until the ball drops in Times Square.
(By the way, back to the football, those two states, Pennsylvania & Idaho, are both great trout fishing destinations…)
I happen to be in Pennsylvania for the holidays staying with family, so I’m going to give fishing a go tomorrow and see if I can catch a “New Year’s Fish”. Most likely at Valley Creek, but we’ll see…
I don’t think I caught my first fish of 2024 until March or something stupid, so gotta at least try to get 2025 moving in the right direction, even though it’s gonna be way colder here than it would be in Florida. “Calling all beadheads, all beadheads report for duty!” Low and slow is the only way to do it this time of year.
So, frozen fingers, toes, and nose incoming. Wish me luck. At least if I’m unsuccessful I can always come back to my brother-in-law’s, toss back a few cold ones, and play the role of drunk uncle the rest of the day. And of course watch the Mummers Parade. Hell, I might still do that anyway. Oh, dem golden slippers…
