We were victorious, although we didn't catch any whitefish and we watched one guy pull in 5 in a row . . . but I digress. GMAN caught an awesome northern pike that we had for supper last night.

I do, however, need to remind myself not to get too fixated or attached to the fish we catch when they're alive. I was so upset about having to kill it, I almost couldn't eat dinner. I'm realistic, of course . . . I mean, I know where our food comes from, I know that unless you're a vegetarian, something had to die to get to your plate. But seeing such a bold, strong creature and knowing that we would be taking its life away, it was almost too much.

Okay, I cried. Yes, I bawled like a baby for a fish. I ate it, mostly because I felt I owed it to the fish. I figured the fish wouldn't be very impressed if it went through everything it had gone through, only to be spurned as an entree.

No, I'm not planning on embarking on vegetarianism anytime soon, but I think this experience has made me more mindful of where my food comes from. Instead of mindlessly shoving a hamburger in my mouth, I'll try to take a moment to thank the animal that had to give up its life for me.

Maybe you think it's silly, or weird, or foolish, but it's just something I have to do, for whatever karmic significance it might have. Please don't laugh, I'm honestly not a hippy.