I just had a birthday, and I'm thinking about what I want to do before my demise, after all, the years are passing, I really need to get on this. For quite some time now, ever since reading Mary Alice Monroe's great novel, Time is a River, a wonderful story about a woman flyer fisher, I've dreamed about fly fishing. She planted a seed, and being in the mountains this week, seeing the shallow mountain streams, the thought of doing this has surfaced again.
Of course my family thinks I've finally lost it, but I'm adventurous, I can totally see them helping me out in a stream, with my waders on, patiently standing by me while I fulfill one of my last requests. They should do this for me, right? Ya, they should...
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