I hate those posts – you know the ones – every amateur blogger has one – that beg forgiveness for, and provide excuses for prolonged absence and lack of content. I’m not going to do that, I tell myself. Then I sit down, and it just happens, and here it is. Ups, downs, twists, turns, that’s life. We lose track, we come back. Also, I haven’t fished at all in the last 6 months until this weekend. Cold, hard, miserable, truth. The 4 people that read this blog (5 if you include my Dad) have not asked me why I haven’t been providing cutting edge, hard hitting content from the fly fishing world. I suppose it isn’t missed, but that was never why I started doing this. I don’t believe anyone who writes online in any format that they don’t care if ANYONE ever reads it, but I know there are plenty like me who aren’t spending any time trying to make the subscription list grow. I love being read, but I much prefer writing it. I like having a journal-slash-scrapbook of the time I spend fishing, because I love fishing. It’s the bestest. This blog is a book of good memories for me. But I think I’m going to stop. I might have already. I mean, did you see the date on my last post? Yeah. It’s been a while. While I hate these kind of posts, I equally am unnerved at those blogs you find that just stop after a post in 2008, as if in the middle of a thought, appearing in full swing, like a half finished sentence or an old house that still bears the effects of it’s previous tenants. It’s creepy. So, I’ve been thinking about another website. I own a web design and marketing business now, so I can probably build a much better place to go internet fishing. I’d like some help – some additional anglers from California and Florida who can provide some more thoughts, posts, time. Maybe a cool name, a slick logo and a beer huggie with our name on it. But it’s just a thought. I own and maintain two small businesses, work a third job in summer, and look how this website ended up. But the thought is still there. Like a splinter in my thumb. I write to you from the corner deck of a Boca Grande Club beach house, with a cool glass of water, sunglasses, a laptop and palm trees swaying in a significant breeze that is keeping me from walking the beach with an 8wt. It’s my second year at this charity tournament, and the second time I’m coming home with a trophy. I’m sunburned, my arm is tired from casting, I’ve been taking hero pics with fish (and releasing them) and my feet are a little swollen from standing on a casting deck for two days. I’m tired as hell, too. But given my surroundings, I have nothing to complain about. Just beyond those swaying palms is about 60 yards of beach scrub and foliage, and beyond that, the Gulf glistens in the afternoon sun. I’m sitting here thinking about the fishing, how I’d tell the story, and where I want to tell it. Lot’s to do, lot’s to think about, but quiet and still, just for now. I guess I still have stories. I’m still making them up as I go along.