By this time, we had driven over 100 miles, and were getting frustrated with the fact that all the camp grounds were still closed. This gave rise to the second best B Money quote of the trip. After finding another camp ground closed, B piped up, "Hey, everything's closed. Why don't we just head back to Provo, and do this some other time, k?" You gotta love B Money.
His best quote of the night came around the camp fire as I was telling a story about a girl I knew named Mica to my buddy named Micah (not a girl). Somehow, I wound up looking at B Money and telling him that he would make an ugly girl. He got offended, and looked back at me and said, "whatever!" in a voice of indignation that only B Money can produce. Then Micah asked him if he thought he would be a pretty girl, to which he replied, "fetch yes!," and gave him a glare as if to say that he was an idiot for even asking. Suffice it to say, it loses something in the re-telling. -Seriously, for all three of my blog readers, if you don't know B Money, do what you need to do to get to know the kid. You won't regret it.
Anyway, the next day at the lake, B's mood followed a pretty funny course through the day. I think it's pretty discernible from the pictures below.
Remember: these pictures appear in chronological order.
This is the first fish of the day (and the smallest). I caught it after fishing for a while. It was slow at first, to say the least.
This is B protesting after fishing for about 20 minutes. On his third cast, he broke the only bobber he had on an errant cast that went straight into the rocks at his feet instead of the water, so his mood soured for a while, especially after I caught my first fish.
A few hours later, B got his second wind, fashioned a bobber out of a piece of drift wood, and started fishing again. All of a sudden, we heard the loudest yell that has probably ever left B's body telling us he had caught a fish.
The fishing was picking up by this point, and B was starting to get cocky. He'd talk trash when he'd catch something, and say that he wasn't fishing competitively when someone else would catch a fish.
He was really feeling it by this point.
We were pretty much dealing with the world's best fisherman by the end of the day.
So that was Memorial Day. Lots more fun than any library ever dreamed of being, and lots prettier than any part of the country east of the Rockies ever dreamed of being.
