Fishing–no catch limit

Rarely do Bob and I have to concern ourselves with the catch limit if we go fishing.  Even in Minnesota, where you can use a paperclip to pull a lunker bass out of a mud puddle, posting a catch limit for us was unnecessary.  Such is our fishing prowess.  Good thing we don’t have to fish to eat.

Unlike Peter.  A professional fisherman, his life depended on it.  In Peter’s first encounter with Jesus, they had fished all night and caught nothing.  (Not dissimilar to some of my husband’s angling adventures, I might add.) Jesus tells them to cast on the other side of the boat, to which Peter makes some disparaging remark, but does it anyway.  And the nets become so full that they rip apart.

Some assembly required

I’m saving for a new kitchen.  They say the first rooms of any old house that should be remodeled are the bathrooms and the kitchen; okay, now that we’re 25-years into this already old house, it’s probably time.  So I’m saving my dollars as I am hoping for a visit from the contractor in the months to come.  (Bob, honey, take note.)

This past Christmas, our oldest granddaughter received a “new kitchen” from her father’s parents.  I have rarely seen such an elaborate and beautiful play thing, and I’m thinking of writing them to request they send me one, only on a bigger adult scale!  It’s magnificent! 

The challenge is that it