My dad loves pecan pie and fishing. I miss him. I miss the Velveeta cheese he would wad up at the end of the fishing hook and the smelly little neon orange fish eggs I had to scoop out of the fish. Gutting was my favorite part. Yes. I am the perfect women. I also whittle and play the harmonica...but not at the same time.My husband Ace won't eat pecan pie. Not ever. Isn't that just sad? He's not a fan of carmel custard or crunchy lightly spiced pecans. He also won't eat fish...or go fishing for the "water lizards"...which of course means I haven't had to gut a fish for 14 years. So...when in marriage does a gal just take off for a fishing trip alone and take a pecan pie in her tackle box? Velveeta and pecan pie...mmmmm. Not happening this week. Ace did however manage to prove himself worthy of Chef Tess for a wife by randomly showing up with a single slice of pecan pie for me. Fish eggs will just have to wait...I'm smooching.
There you go...fishing.
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