My wife deserves far more credit than I give her (and don’t they all really). In particular, her patience for my annual Thanksgiving morning shenanigans is something to be marveled. The problem really centers around the fact that the morning turns into the afternoon, which turns into the early evening… and that’s when the door swings open, everybody’s mouth full of turkey and stuffing and I’m standing there smelling like fish in my foul weather gear getting the “look of death” from my beloved partner. My buddies and I have a long-standing tradition of meeting at the boat every year on Thanksgiving just before dawn for what typically turns out to be one of our last fishing trips of the season. It’s at the end of the trip, when the bite is red hot and I know that the turkey is just coming out of the oven at home that “one more cast” becomes the phrase for the next two hours, making me incredibly late for dinner.