We pointed our packed car north on Friday night. Passed out at the cabin early-->we wanted to be walking that frozen lake by 8am.
SATURDAY MORNING. While Austin got ::round 2:: of ice fishing ready I played Mama Bear and made his "Grandma's Famous Swedish Pancakes." (thank you for the batter grams!)
Top with sweet strawberries and make them swim in syrup and you got GOLD BABY. my favorite.
Dear Gas Auger,
I LOATHE you. You are heavier than expected and all 5'1 of be could barely reach the top of you. Why do you need to be so difficult? You had one job ::drill a hole:: but instead you insisted on being an uncontrollable beast! Choke, Hold, Pull, Push...what?! I kicked you a few times and I do not apologize for my actions.
okay maybe the kicking was a little uncalled for. If we would have caught something I would be more forgiving. Until then I am forever bitter with you and your buttons and pull start.
Our portable sounded like a Country Rave on the ice. We pumped the jams! Fish got to swim to the tunes of Eric Church, Alan Jackson and MitchelI Tenpenny.
To anyone on the ice that heard our music: I'm sorry for the noise violation.
When you don't catch a thing you sip on some sweetness.
Drink of choice this weekend: Alabama Slammer
- 1 ounce Southern Comfort
- 1 ounce amaretto
- 1 ounce sloe gin
- 2 ounces orange juice
The only thing we caught this weekend was a buzz. Until next time fishys!
On our way home we got stopped by some gobblers. A family of 14 ugly but tasty birds took their time wobbling and gobbling into the next town over. Slow rolling Sunday strolls.
we BROKE our streak! after two months of struggle festing with the boxes we FINALLY won. A box called: Whistling Pickle made for an aggressive chest bump and a few extra dollars in our pockets.