Several weeks ago, my dad and Josh went on a fishing trip. They had Tremendous! Success! In that they actually caught some really gorgeous trout. Thus Josh, at ten, has already experienced more fishing success than either I or his father ever have or are ever likely to.
Tonight, I wanted to cook those gorgeous fish. But I don't really know how to fillet, and I am afraid--ashamed to admit--that I fucked one of them up beyond use. I am heartsick about it. I have been crying about it for a full hour, in fact.
I can't even talk about it anymore. Here's a picture of Josh's fine work before I got hold of it.
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