Hoodies in July

July 4th, 2009 - It was a banner day. Not because it was Independence Day although that certainly should qualify it as one…no matter what your political views are. No, that day is permanently burned into my feeble memory for one reason and one reason alone. At 9:00 a.m. it was already 95 degrees. Are you kidding me!? Nothing good can happen when the temperature goes above 80.

Five mornings out of seven, I slip out of the house around daybreak and saunter over to the pickup. Saunter? Hey, I’m a fatkid. Fatkids never walk with a purpose if they can help it, they saunter. Anyway, I fire up the Chevy, roll the window down, and head for work. The window is down, not because I’m too cheap to run the A/C, but because I want to soak up all the fresh air and goodness that can only come from temps below 80 degrees.

This morning was especially nice. The breeze coming in from the intentionally gaping hole in my door was almost cool. It resurrected memories of a wonderful trip with great friends to NE New Mexico and the fishing we did on a mountain lake. Memories like this:

And this:

That trip was special. Not because we caught a lot of fish, which we did. Or, that I’m a purist who thinks fly rods are to be used only to flick dry flies to rising trout. In fact, I’m quite the opposite. If it swims in fresh water, I want to catch it on a fly rod…period. I loved that trip for the simple fact that it was cool enough to need hoodies in July.

D