As I sit here and I type, I hear waa waa waa (Charlie Brown's teacher's voice) in the background. I turn around to see my boss is gesturing to a piece of paper with a furrowed brow and an agitated expression. I point to the headset, pretending to be on the phone. He raises his hand in silence with a "sorry I didn't realize you were on a call" expression. As he slides into the back ground, my mind wanders back to Mississippi lake and the pending tournament tomorrow. I imagine the non-descript faces in the sea of fish-hawk hats, as I admire the regatta of boats waiting for blast off. "Hi, I'm M.T. Livewell, but you can call me Bill" I yell over to the team of anticipated anglers, one wearing a fish-hawk, the other waiting patiently for FH to place the next order.
I mull over strategies of chatreuse jigs tipped with worms or minnows. I ponder the afternoon sunshine and warm back bays for cruising pike. I dream of cruising across the mighty Mississip with wind blowing through my hair (scalp) and can feel the warm sun on the back of my neck.
My boss strolls back and I point to my headset. He chooses to wait it out. So I end my mock phone call and return to the daily grind. He's ripping me a new one, but I can't wipe the smile off my face, because I know, deep down inside, I AM GOING FISHING TOMORROW.
M.T. Livewell
