In honor of the red-headed stranger’s birthday, I am hosting a PADDLEFISH book promotion. The rules are simple. Buy a copy of PADDLEFISH right here anytime through this Friday 5/4 and your name will be entered into a drawing for this 2-disc CD set of Willie Nelson music.

With 40 songs it earns the title “The Essential Willie Nelson.”

To sweeten the deal, buy two copies of Paddlefish and your name is entered twice. Three copies bought, you will be entered three times.

Good luck and Happy Birthday Willie! This is a song for you…

People ask what type of music they have at Springfest. Some might say bluegrass. I say it’s a bluegrass jamgrass slamgrass honkygrass bluejam rootsrock southern-ass-funk blend. I am also here to report that 2012 proved to be yet another spectacular Springfest for us.

We enjoyed great friends, delicious food, perfect camping, lovely weather and of course, epic music. And when I say lovely weather, that includes Saturday morning’s downpour and minor tornado warning that had us huddled below tarps, daydrinking, and grilling burgers under our nylon roofs — our only protection from following Toto’s poor fate. So it seemed well-timed when one campmate proclaimed, “You can’t drink all day if you don’t start in the morning!”

Besides, you’re not a true festie until you’ve boogied in the mud. As I once heard a comedian put it, “Rain is just God’s way of making hippies take a bath.”

Guilty.

The spot of morning rain didn’t dampen the spirits one bit. We were buoyed by the tunes. In one short weekend we heard: Yonder Mountain String Band, Donna The Buffalo, Justin Townes Earle, Tea Leaf Green, Hot Buttered Run, The Gourds, The Mosier Brothers, The Infamous Stringdusters, Great American Taxi, The Ryan Montbleu Band, Jason Isbell, Jim Lauderdale, Ralph Roddenberry, Elephant Revival, Donna Hopkins, and The Lizzy Ross Band.

Whew!

Find of the festival? I have to say we loved Lizzy Ross and her band, and not just because they hail from Chapel Hill North Carolina. She totally rocked. Run don’t walk to iTunes and get some for yourself…The Lizzy Ross Band.

She wove in some Janis “Lord Won’t You Buy Me A Mercedes Benz” in the middle of one of her original songs and it blew the crowd away. This was about the same time a giant, and I mean giant, 5-inch moth fluttered around the stage for several minutes, working the crowd into a lather and finally landing on Lizzy’s hand while she was playing a guitar solo. Let me tell you the trippin hippies went nuts for the unscripted moth moment. 

Another mind-blowing cover? Ralph Roddenberry, Donna Hopkins and crew busting into “Whole Lotta Love.” It took quite awhile to rev up into it so we knew something good was coming, but everyone went nuts when they belted out, “You need coolin’ baby I’m not foolin’…”

But most of the music was 100% original. Another festival highlight was the songwriter-in-the-round with Jason Isbell, Jim Lauderdale, and Justin Townes Earle.

And now I will abruptly end this post because I am still so tired, I have piles of laundry to do, and I have to go google the early onset symptoms of Lyme Disease. Plus I have nothing left to convey that isn’t covered in the video below.

Bottom line, if you don’t watch this montage, you don’t love music. There is some seriously good stuff in here:

Peace. Catch you on the flipside.

As far as I’m concerned, singer songwriter Jim Lauderdale can do no wrong. Not with his velvety smooth honkytonk voice, not with his poetic, pathos-filled-yet-still-hopeful lyrics, and certainly not with his old school, southern fried, Manuel-style fashion choices. And the fact that he was born in a town called Troutman, North Carolina? Well, it just writes itself, doesn’t it. What a great name for a town! And in the Tarheel state no less. (Go Heels, by the way. No comment on Kendall Marshall, it’s just too upsetting.)

In my younger years I would devour the liner notes on a cassette or CD cover and Jim Lauderdale was listed everywhere as songwriter for some of my favorite tunes. He penned humdingers for Kelly Willis, George Strait, Patty Loveless. He sang backup vocals for Dwight Yoakam.

He and Tanya Tucker recorded a cover of Buck Owens’ “Love’s Gonna Live Here” (one of my all time favorites to play on the jukebox in Uncle Joe’s bar in Craig MT) and nailed it. But Lauderdale isn’t just a supporting character. He has his own highly acclaimed albums, part country, part bluegrass, all soulful. To keep things really diverse, he plays in the sandbox with the jam band scene as well. I guess that’s the bluegrass bridge.

Before we had the Internet and immediate answers to lingering questions I often wondered if he was the same Jim Lauderdale that taught my 7th grade English class. Lumbering Monsieur Lauderdale was cross eyed – practically blind in fact – and puttered to school on a moped way before Vespas made that look look hip.

Of course years later (once I had a visual of Jim Lauderdale the artiste) I confirmed that the two Jim Jims are indeed not the same. Our boy Jim Lauderdale is smoother than a French exhale.

Sorry, but is he rocking a pair of fuchsia pants with a racing stripe down the side? Oh, you got that right. Fabulous. With a floral shirt. Love it. And I totally dig the hairstyle, it’s part bouffant, part long hippie. But of course we can’t ignore the main attraction…that voice. Like melted butter on a warm roll with a beer back.

Ah, reminds me of life in Troutman.

Okay, so I’ve never been to Troutman, NC in reality, but in my mind it’s a cool town with free chicken biscuits on every corner and a world class dive bar. (And a trout stream nearby.)

Jim Lauderdale is a fixture at the annual Springfest Music Festival in Live Oak Florida. The first year we went I came face to face with Lauderdale after his show and completely froze. I was so awestruck I couldn’t utter a peep. Two years later I was determined to get another shot. Emboldened my my friend Leah’s effortless confidence, we managed to get a picture with him.

Love the black shirt too, Jim. But I think I am partial to the orange outfit. Ooh, but those fuchsia pants. Damn, he makes it hard to choose.

I can’t wait to see what he’s sporting at Springfest this weekend. I tweeted about my Springfest excitement a few weeks ago and much to my DELIGHT…nay THRILL…drumroll….are you ready for this…whew…

…Jim Lauderdale retweeted me. I have proof.

I realize that Social Media sounds a lot like Social Needier but I don’t care. My self esteem soared. My identity was instantaneously reshaped. Let’s face it, cool is contagious people and my stock just went up.

Now I’m not the only one who’s a big Jim Lauderdale fan. Filmmaker Jeremy Dylan is making a documentary about Lauderdale’s life, called Jim Lauderdale: The King of Broken Hearts. He’s still raising money for the project so if you have some spare change and a song in your heart, why not support a struggling artist trying to get a good story out there?

If you need a little inspiration, how about some Jim Lauderdale tunes. Here he is at the Station Inn in Nashville performing my favorite Lauderdale song, Chances.

There’s an old friend, on my shoulder

Whispering in my ear

And an angel on the other

Who won’t tell me what I want to hear

In the silky-smooth words of Ray Price, Don’t look so sad, I know it’s over…

Some of you might already know that before FLY FISH CHICK, I started a blog called CHICKEN FRIED THERAPY. I wrote stories about life as a divorced mom and all the hilarity that came along with that plus being single in my mid-thirties. (scroll down for sample posts)

CHICKEN FRIED THERAPY survived several seasons as I remarried, started FLY FISH CHICK, wrote and released PADDLEFISH. But for now, I’ve decided to let the curtain fall on CFT and load up all my stories here at FFC.

First and foremost I hope you will welcome the CFT readers who migrate here. (Maybe you can help me lure some over?) I’ve invited them to jump on in and I assured them they would find hilarity and hospitality at FFC.

Second, because I am nostalgic for my early blogposts, I thought some of you FFC loyalists might enjoy reading some. Most are several years old, a few are recent. You won’t find any mention of dry flies, trailer mishaps, or flyshop gossip, but self-deprecating comedy is ever-present. Listed here are a few I think you will like.

***

So here we go with CFT, one more time, for the good times…

One Plucky Chicken – my very first blogpost ever. About life after divorce and my friendship with Gov Ann Richards

Gypsy Queen – a bizarre and embarrassing story about my night backstage at a Gypsy Kings concert

A Flavor of Moravia – I discover my Moravian roots. (yes, I had to wikipedia Moravia)

Attica! Attica! – the one and only time I’ve ventured into my attic alone. Thankfully I’m remarried so it’ll never have to happen again

I-Pod Therefore I Am – An existential post about how the ipod reshaped my identity. It will seem hilariously archaic now that we have iphones and ipads

Handbag Homicide – my Prada was murdered. Suspect still at large

This Deal Doesn’t Pass The Sniff Test – again, this will seem dated but at the time Little Chick was way into Webkinz and this was a funny parenting moment

Are You Brave Enough To Let Me See Your Peacock – not as dirty as it sounds

The Most Pinteresting Woman in the World – following my “if some is good more is better” theory, I discover Pinterest and remove myself from society for 48 hours to immerse myself in my pinning

***

Special thanks to the Drumsticks who penned some riotous posts on CFT: Magnolia, Legally Blone, Olive and Hazel. And many thanks to ubertalented friend Will Hornaday who designed the kickass CFT banner, as well as the supercool FFC banner here. Hornaday Design.

MUCHO GUSTO for the good times CHICKEN FRIED THERAPY!! ~ Viva FLY FISH CHICK!!

Click here to view the embedded video.

I missed my own damn birthday! Four years ago on January 31, 2008 I wrote my first post on FLY FISH CHICK. I’m a day late but thought it was worth a bit of a retrospective since during the lifespan of this blog, so much has happened in my life.

Four years. I can hardly believe it! The same length of time between the Olympics, Presidential elections, leap years. Four years is the amount of time I spent in college. (Before you pat me on the back for getting out on time, I will confess I entered Carolina with 30 hours, technically a sophomore, and barely squeaked out my diploma in four years. Go Heels and God Bless Chapel Hill.)

During the four years of this blog we have talked trout, bonefish, bass, redfish and tarpon. I have made innumerable friends, both in person and virtually although I feel the same about both. I’ve managed to embarrass family every so often with some outlandish blogpost titles (anyone remember the raccoon penis story?) I started dating the Professor, met a publisher, raced in the Texas Water Safari, got married, wrote a book, published a book.

Oh, and Little Chick started middle school.

I’d like to thank each and every one of your for tuning in through the years, it sounds trite, but I literally wouldn’t be doing all this without your feedback, emails, comments. Hey, I’d even like to thank the Russians who are madly comment spamming me right now.

Years ago someone I knew who plays in a blues band once said to me, “You know the worst fate for a band is when they turn into a cover band for their own music.”

I knew precisely what he meant, but nevertheless, I am about to do just that. To celebrate four years, I thought we could take a look at some old posts that make me smile. Not a greatest hits album, just a mini flashback…

Lone Star Trout — my very first post about trout fishing in TX

Momma Told Me There’d Be Days Like This – bonefishing Bahamas with video montage

Is That A Bonefish In Your Pocket or Are You Just Happy To See Me – quick post from the Bahamas. The Professor and I had barely started dating and he found the title a tad inappropriate. Hee hee.

Candy, Don’t Take it From a Stranger – This just makes me laugh out loud. The posts we dream up in the off season when there is zero fishing…

Beef or Pork? – generated one of the most vivacious discussions on FFC. Was fun coordinating with the Flytalk blog over from Field and Stream

River Bank Robbers – video montage of my favorite fishing spot in the world, the Missouri River in MT

Lache pas la Patate – my ridiculously difficult quest for a Louisiana redfish

Brown Is The New Black – a look at the gorgeous brown trout we racked up in MT and ID last summer

THANK YOU ALL again and again for letting me talk fishing, food, music, and wandering off course for the past four years. More to come…XXOO

I could go on and on about oysters at Casamentos, burgers and bloodys at Port Of Call, beignets galore, pompano at Galatoire’s, gnocchi at Lilette, Lucky Dogs off the street, live music at the Mapleleaf, and the all-around hilarity of time I spent in the Quarter and the Marigny and uptown. But I will cut to the chase. Few spots have a hold on my heart like the Chart Room.

I have logged many a late night spinning tunes on the Chart Room jukebox. Ray Charles, Stevie Wonder, Patsy Cline, David Allan Coe, Frank Sinatra. In fact, over the past few years many of you have asked about the blonde photo of me that I whimsically chose as my FLY FISH CHICK avatar. Here’s the scoop…

That blonde wig photo was taken in the Chart Room on Halloween. For the record, I was dressed as an angel. There’s a halo that isn’t showing up clearly in the picture.

So to all my fishing friends who are hitting the ground in one of my all-time favorite cities, steal away from your laborious convention work and treat yourself to some time in the Chart Room. Play a tune on the jukebox for me.

PS. I love the New Orleans style bloody marys with the marinated green beans. The perfect antidote the day after a night at the Chart Room. Grab one at Port of Call with their signature burger piled high with grated cheddar cheese. Yum, Yum, Yumbo-ya-ya.

And now, about the music…

A few weeks ago after a day of fishing on the Big Hole with the Professor, Little Chick and my parents, we enjoyed a fantastic meal at the Old Hotel in Twin Bridges. Somehow (and by somehow I mean after lots of wine) we came up with the hilarious idea of turning my soon-to-be-published book into a musical theater production, PADDLEFISH THE MUSICAL.

I can’t share all the bizarre song ideas and choreography that we brainstormed…because I don’t remember them. But trust me, it was riotous. You see, I know my musicals. When I was a kiddo, my mother used to take me down to the Dallas County Fairgrounds or where ever that is where they host the Texas State Fair and the Cotton Bowl. Well, they would also show Broadway musicals year round. So I am well-prepped for a Broadway sing-off anywhere, anytime. Bring it. Sound of Music, Oklahoma, The King and I, My Fair Lady, Cats, Evita.

Oh, give me a balcony and I can rock ‘Don’t Cry for Me Argentina’.

While an off off off Broadway musical production of PADDLEFISH is likely not in the cards, nor in my publishing agreement, music was a very big part of the whole race experience, from training to the finish line. For example…

Don’t forget that yall helped create a killer and comprehensive playlist of river songs to keep me inspired in the months leading up to the race.

And of course there were the songs I listened to at the gym on the rowing machine on my playlist ‘Row Against the Machine’. Favorites to fake row to include: Errtime, Jive Talkin’, Mo Money Mo Problems, Nasty Girl, Workin’ Day and Night, and lots lots more.

Plus there were the tunes Banning and I sang to pass the time during training runs in the canoe, especially the bay training. Mostly good Willie Nelson and many rounds of Janis Joplin’s ‘Me and Bobby McGee’.

Finally, Phil and I came up with our own set of songs to sing during the actual race. The only musical genre that we both knew (and could remember the lyrics to in our sleep-deprived state) seemed to be Soft Rock from the 70s. We rocked a lot of Firefall, Eagles, Don McLean and Jimmy Buffet. The main songs we sang over and over and over were: ‘You Are The Woman’, ‘Take It Easy’, and ‘American Pie’. Oh, and a rendition of Jimmy Buffet’s ‘Why Don’t We Get Drunk and Screw’…but we changed the lyrics to sing about Team Paddlefish and the race.

And because you probably aren’t spinning these tunes on your ipod today, I have taken the liberty of pulling them together in a little playlist for you. I dare you not to enjoy this nostalgic musical jaunt back to the 70s…

[if you are reading this post via email, you may need to click through to my site to view/listen to the playlist. cheers.]

Jeff is an avid fisherman and diehard music fan. He drove over from Tallahassee last month to join us at Springfest. He came early, while his wife Leah would arrive the following day.

So it was the first night of Springfest and we were enjoying one of the early evening shows. Jeff and I were talking about music and bands and great concerts we’d seen, a conversation that for me, has to include Willie Nelson.

Jeff tells me about going to see Willie Nelson at a concert back in the 70s. He was very close to the stage, and he noticed women were throwing offerings at Willie’s feet. Mostly flowers, perhaps a sundry of other items. Jeff was so inspired by the Redheaded Stranger he too was compelled to throw something up for Willie. But what did he have to throw? He gave himself a mini pat-down, reached in his pocket and pulled out an Abraham.

Jeff recognized the blank look on my face and began to explain what an Abraham is. “You see there are only two mammals on the planet that have bones in their penis.”

(I know. Seriously. This post just writes itself.)

Apparently, boner isn’t a misnomer for whales and raccoons who actually have bones in their penises. And since it’s pretty hard to grow up in the southeastern part of the US hunting whales, this story is about raccoon penises.

Not only an avid fisherman and diehard music fan, Jeff is a big-time coon hunter. He grew up coon hunting with his father who taught him the age old tradition of cutting out the bone from a raccoon’s penis. All coon hunters know it’s customary to keep the bone, which once dried and retained for posterity, is called an Abraham. Apparently it is the ultimate feather in one’s coon skip cap.

According to Jeff, back in the day (I’m not sure which “day’”) Abrahams were a coveted souvenir and ladies of the gentile class used them to stir their drinks.

I’ve since google-researched the raccoon penis bone tradition and apparently Jerry Hall once told her quasi-husband Mick Jagger that growing up in Texas, when a boy liked a girl he would give her an Abraham as a love token. And a quick search on ebay indicates these are still highly prized treasures.

Jeff continued with his story. “I reached into my pocket and found an old Abraham. So I threw it up on stage to Willie. Willie reached down, immediately recognized what it was, smiled, and put the Abraham right in his pocket.”

WHOA!!! Willie Nelson was performing on stage with my friend Jeff’s raccoon penis bone right in his pocket. And if that weren’t enough…what’s a good Willie story that doesn’t involve…you got it….Waylon.

So several years later Jeff was going to see Willie and Waylon in concert in Albany Georgia. A friend who worked for the local radio station was able to secure a backstage pass so Jeff could meet them before the show. Unfortunately Willie got sick and had to cancel, so Waylon would have to carry the show on his own.

Jeff and a friend are backstage meeting Waylon Jennings. In some bizarre twist of fate they started talking about Willie Nelson and Jeff tells Waylon his story about throwing Willie the Abraham, and Willie pocketing the dadgum thing. Waylon lit up like a house on fire.

Willie had given that very Abraham to Waylon!

I about fell over when I heard this part of the story. It’s enough to pulverize the skull it’s so much fabulousness to take in at one time. Jeff throws a penis bone to WILLIE NELSON the greatest living legend of this millennium and the last one and the next one. Willie pockets the thing with a smile and later gives it to his epic outlaw partner in crime, Waylon Jennings. And in some serendipitous fold of fate, Jeff has the opportunity to learn about it, full circle.

I was agog. I was squealing with delight. It was all too much. Jeff seemed tickled that I was like a toddler at bedtime wanting to hear the story over and over again. He called his wife Leah and asked her to bring a photograph and an extra Abraham so I could see what they look like.

Surefire Leah shows up with this incredible picture from backstage the Waylon concert. Jeff is second from the left.

And then, Jeff graciously gave me my very own Abraham! I couldn’t believe it. I was so touched. My very own highfalutin drink stirrer:

Thank you Jeff and Leah for a great story and the kind gift. I love it. It’s in my jewelry box. Next time I see Willie in concert, you have one guess what I’m taking with me in my pocket.

First and foremost the company and the weather were sublime. Sunshine galore, music on five stages for four days, excellent camp food, lots of laughs. We loved our campsite having gathered a crew from Mobile, Tampa, Tallahassee, and Albany GA. Our group is growing! We are like the Roman empire of the Suwannee campground.

The Springfest festival-goers continue to impress. Everyone is gracious, lovely and mellow – at one point the Professor exclaimed, “I think Springfest is the most civilized place on Earth.”

While I haven’t taken the time to practice my hooping since last year, The Professor urged me to get back into it. He even bought me a new hoop from some festie chick who makes them herself and was selling them in the campground. This is a different woman in the pic on the right. I recognized this gal Michelle from Chicken Shit Bingo two weeks ago in Austin. She’s from Florida, was in Austin for SXSW and I remember seeing her at Dale Watson at Ginny’s. Two weeks later I recognize her at Springfest. Crazy.

So anyway I am happy to say my love affair with hooping is once again alive and well. Although I am still very much a beginner. But I swear I am going to be better in time for Springfest 2012!

In the meantime, I have plenty of music floating around my head to practice. Here’s what we heard this weekend. Spoiler alert: The Avett Brothers and Cornmeal were my tip top favorites. As always the video montage tells the whole story and is at the bottom of this post.

THURSDAY

Larry Keel – perfect bluegrass warm-up

Scythian – we’ve been trying for 3 years now. I still don’t get the celtic rock thing. Although we have become nostalgic about Scythian after three Springfests

Greensky Bluegrass – really started to get into it with Greensky. For some reason all the pickers looked like fisherman to me. So The Professor and I started playing a game trying to guess where each musician was from and what they fish for. For example, stand up bass, Boise, trout on spinning rod. Fiddler, from Georgia, but lives in MT now and flyfishes for trout. Banjo, Colorado trout guy. Guitar, Alabama bass guy. Drop steel, we couldn’t decide. Probably a rocky mountain guy though.

The Motet – These guys from Boulder played late night on the Amphitheatre stage. For the first 60 seconds I thought, “Ugh, too Kenny G for me.” But all of a sudden they kicked it into superfunk horn jazzy house techno music. I liked it. Not my everyday genre but a cool way to end the first nite

FRIDAY

First we had to detour to the cafe near the music hall where the manager was kind enough to let us watch our episode of Bass 2 Billfish. That was a hoot. Then it was time for the music.

Danny Barnes – For some reason when I read the schedule I was determined that Danny Barnes was going to be Danny Everitt, the musician friend of my good friends Annie & Mark McKinnon. I had the last name wrong though, which I confirmed in a quick realtime email to McKinnon. He emailed me back from Argentina to tell me his friend’s last name was Everitt, not Barnes.

Oh well. Danny Barnes was kinda out there anyway. Intense. Genre-bending. The next day we would see him on a folding chair in the middle of the road playing impromptu with Joe Craven which was kinda cool

Two Foot Level – Solid upstart bluegrass band. Perfect for afternoon beer drinking

Trampled By Turtles – Speedgrass band from Deluth MN. They were just in Austin for SXSW. I didn’t see them in ATX but talked with them after their Springfest show and had a chance to talk about their time in Texas. great musicians, nice mellow guys

Galen Kipar Project – smoldering little group on the new stage near the lake. They were folksy, bluesy, funk. Some dramatic Drive-by-Trucker-esque lyrics. They did a great ‘Alabama Chicken’

David Grisman – Academically I get that he is arguably the greatest mandolin plyaer in the world. And he played with Jerry Garcia. But unlike everyone else at the amphitheatre, my life remained unchanged after seeing him. It’s always a nice afternoon break for me to chill and people watch when Grisman takes the stage (I know I’m in the minority here and what I said is complete heresy. Just being honest.)

Cornmeal – Showstopper!!! High energy jam band rockabilly bluegrass. We decided to call them jambilly. The chick fiddler was INCREDIBLE. She sawed on that fiddle like Charlie Daniels. The lights were flashing, the sound was loud, the harmony pitch perfect. I am a Cornmeal fan.

SATURDAY

Larkin Poe – lovely sisters with beautiful voices. We didn’t hear much but we liked what we heard.

Traveling McCoury’s – I wasn’t fully present for this. I was at the back getting a chair massage which was life changing

Jim Lauderdale – of course we all know how much I HEART JIM LAUDERDALE. His psychedelic cowboy honkytonk outfits were better than ever.

So here’s a great springfest moment. When Jim Lauderdale covered the tune “The Race Is On” my friend Carol and I both jumped up and squealed with delight. We each said at the exact same moment:

Carol: “I love this Dead song!”

Me: “I love this George Jones song!”

We just laughed at our different genre upbringings and danced away to Jim Lauderdale’s version.

Donna The Buffalo – I’m not sure it would be Springfest without Donna The Buffalo. We boogied down while the crowd bounced those inflated balls back and forth. Groovy as ever.

Steep Canyon Rangers – This is actor/comedian Steve Martin’s bluegrass band. It would have been a lot cooler if the wild and crazy guy himself had been there but they were incredible musicians nonetheless. They looked so sharp in their suits and ties. Carolina boys, you know.

The Avett Brothers – and speaking of Carolina boys. The Avett Brothers are from Concord North Carolina, as is my college roommate from Chapel Hill. I just have visions that maybe she babysat for them a long time ago and we are going to get backstage passes at some point?

The Avett Brothers brought down the house. There was a lot of hype after their recent Garden & Gun cover and performance at the Grammy’s. But they were un-flippin-believable. They defy category. They sounded like the Samples, Brett Dennen, and the Sex Pistols all balled up into one hot show. Somehow it really hung together.

They credited Doc Watson with inspiring them on a kickass version of “Blue Ridge Mountain Blues” that I lov-lov-loved. (As an aside I really like the Earl Scruggs version too.)

Surprise Me Mr. Davis – can’t explain the name away. that said, I liked ‘em. Oddball, torchy bluesy rock. good stuff.

Cornmeal – we got to see them again on the big stage. They ROCKED. I hooped to my heart’s content. And I almost fainted from sheer delight when this countrified jambilly rockgrass band played a ten minute version of the Bee Gees’ disco hit “You Should Be Dancing”.

Quartermoon – About two in the morning we wandered to the legendary Quartermoon tent where they have a shrine to Bill Monroe and all sorts of musicians gather to pick and jam.

SUNDAY

Verlon Thompson – lovely mellow way to wind down while we waited an hour for our tshirts to get screen-printed. He made lots of Guy Clark references which made me feel at home

Big Cosmo Suwannee Sound Syndicate – also lowkey, with lyrics all about festival love

Jim Lauderdale – we didn’t stick around for his Sunday show but I saw him tuning up and was entranced with his bedazzled orange outfit. I have decided next year I am going to knock off this exact suit and wear it to Springfest with a button that is a picture of him wearing the same suit. Stalkerish? Perhaps. But I can’t get enough of Jim Lauderdale’s snappy threads. To die for.

Okay, no more talking. We went to sleep around 3:30 am to the sound of fireworks, the drum circle and someone bouncing around the woods with a pan flute. This festie needs some shuteye. Enjoy the montage friends…{if you are viewing this via email subscription, you need to click through to the FFC site to view the montage}…

The Professor has hooked me up with his favorite guide down there, George Bradley. So I have two days scheduled and I am over the moon. My dad tied some flies for me. I have new leader and tippet, rods and reels are set out. I am good to go.

At our breakfast table banter yesterday we were talking about the trip and well-into his second cup of coffee, the Professor started giving me a a pretty good lecture about the fishing. Bluntly he told me to make sure to tell George I wanted to look for bigger bonefish, sight-casting only, and that I didn’t want to get planted on some big mud, picking off small bones hand over fish. I mean fist.

Whoa there! Speak for yourself hoochie coochie man!

I cried foul on that. I do not get to bonefish nearly enough to be that high brow. I am here to tell you I have no problem setting up on a mud. I mean of course I’d rather stalk a pair of 8-lb bones that are cruising the flats at perfect speed at a perfect distance, coming at me at an angle, with the sun just so I can see them before they see me, with the wind at my back so I can make the perfect cast. Who wouldn’t?

But when it’s been a long day, and you’re singing the bonefish blues because the only fish you’ve seen was about 5 hours earlier as he was wrapping your line around fourteen different mangrove bushes, then frankly my friend, a fresh puff of mud is clearly a welcome sight.

This launched a vibrant debate over coffee and cereal. The Professor was adamant that I was better than that. I assured him I was not.

The whole thing exploded with the Professor’s final proclamation on the topic, “Frankly an Exuma veteran like yourself doesn’t need to be whoring herself out to the mud!”

Then he called me a tension junkie.

I love a fresh puff of mud when saltwater fishing. I love Muddy Waters on the jukebox. I bet the father of the Chicago Blues could fish the heck out of the bones because that mannish boy would have gotten down and dirty with a lead-eye fly if circumstances called for it. Muddy could sink it low, plug it in, amp it up, and deliver.

So what do you think? Saltwater fishing….would you pass up a good mud, or starting blind casting right in the middle of it?

I am a fan of Muddy Waters and I’ve got the playlist to prove it. I will be singing the blues while searching the big blue flats and if I see a mud, I will have my mojo working my friend.

“Everything….everything…everything gonna be allright this mornin’”