Mr. Rich's House

Your mother’s law partner has a house out in Hockley, Texas.   It’s a gated vacation retreat deal for pointlessly rich white people.    Needless to say there’s golf, but also pools, paddleboats, playgrounds, a fake beach, golf carts, and fishing….lots of fishing.  So we go occasionally, because you have a good time and your brother is just getting into it.  

I go for the fishing.   The process is that we do fun stuff for y’all for a while, like dig holes in the fake beach or let y’all sit in my lap and pretend to drive the golf carts around.   You always like to ride on the back, as opposed to driving.   I think you think it’s relaxing.   All the while, I drink as many beers as I can before “magic hour.”   Then we rig up your Disney Princesses rod, my spin reel, and cruise the 100 feet across Mr. Rich’s lawn to one of the ponds and let it rip.    

 

When we do hook one, I usually make sure it’s good and hooked, try to tire it out a little and then find and excuse for you to reel it in, such as I got tired, or I have to drink my beer, etc.    You’ll get it about 10 feet from the bank and I’ll take off the shoes and try to scoop it out.    I works about half the time, less if we let Brother take a turn holding the rod.   But it worked this time.    Look at that hawg.   

 

The best thing about the next picture  is that Brother is looking at me in a way he probably won’t for long- like I am the strongest, most infallible creature on the planet.   He’s in total awe, which is not something I’m used to.  

 

 

And what’s a great day in the faux- country without some faux-food, namely marshmallows.  

By this point in the evening, I am hammered to the point that your mother is openly annoyed with me and I try to goad her on by doing needlessly ridiculous things, like letting you and Brother hold the Roman candles as we shoot them at the lawn furniture.    It’s a good system.