Sharkbait Hoo Ha Ha

Anyone else channeling Nemo right now?

After being landlocked in steamy Atlanta (formerly known as Hot-lanta for a good reason) for the WHOLE month of May, I sped out of the city like a bat out of hell Sunday morning.  We made it door to door in under four and a half hours including our road-trip requisite stop at McDonald’s (where I essentially pay six dollars for two toys and Happy Meals that are seemingly better suited for stuffing in every orifice of my Jeep than for eating.)

After relishing in a divinely delectable and so-Southern meal of Daddy-O’s shrimp salad sandwiches and Mother’s ice cold super sweet tea, we grabbed our rods, cut up some bait, put some Coke’s on ice and hit the dock.

We spent the entire afternoon fishing, feeding the birds, talking, drinking, trying to prevent the littles from catapulting each other off the dock and just having a grand old time.  At the end of the day, we (the PCP more specifically) caught one single solitary baby black fin shark.  I swear, my bad luck catching shark must be rubbing off on the sweet boy.  While everyone else I know is reeling in yummy trout, whiting and croaker fish, the only thing I ever catch are those darned baby sharks.  Black fins, hammerheads, you name it, I catch it.  ew.

In the spirit of making lemonade out of lemons, that shark is now shark bait in the crab traps.  I expect ol’ black fin to amass quite a collection of scrumptious blue crabs for my dining pleasure.

Sharkbait!  Hoo ha ha!

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