Being a Good Host

I learned what it was to be a good host by watching my sister. This was years ago…back before I lived in Colorado. I was living and working in fairly random places. Canada… Alaska… wherever there was promise of good fishing, a story or the potential for some adventure. And every so often I would run into my sister (who is still on her own global walkabout). She always managed to provide way more than just a crash pad. Most of my old Army buddies who I run into in my travels consider it generous if they provide a couch and a dirty pillow. Oh, and maybe the makings for a bloody marry for breakfast. Help yourself, dude. My sister, on the other hand, always had food in the refrigerator and coffee brewing in the mornings. And it went on from there…she would take time off work and usually have the low down on some local fishing, too. Damn, good times! So, I felt like I was under some pressure when she flew into town the other day. In from Australia, this time. So, I made sure to de-bachelor my hovel. Clean the toilet. Buy some groceries. Re-socialize my wild ass cat. You know, the essentials. But my sister travels with a fly rod at the ready, same as me. So, not only did I have to have my domestic shit together, I had to have my guide face on as well. But, no worries! I showed her some good carp fishing…we landed a half dozen decent fish each, including a fun double which I forced her to hold up for a photo opportunity. Two slippery, lively carp…it was a circus! Mud getting flung around everywhere. Hurry up and take the damn photo already! Ah…still good times!