Deadly Attacking Fish!

I just so happen to worship the sun.  Yes, I sprawl on a towel and roast myself.  I hardly ever burn, so that's my excuse to everyone who's screaming what about cancer?!?! to their computer screens.  And yes, sunscreen is my friend.

Anyways, for a few days this July one could find me out on the dock bombarding my skin with sun rays.  The problem with this is that it gets hot.  Now, typically, when I get hot, the solution is to go for a quick dip in the water.

Side note:  I should have been born with gills.  I was raised with a pool and spent summers at the Lake... swimming has always been a natural part of my life, and my parents yelling at me to get out of the water already has always punctured my summers.

I very much enjoy being in the water...even 56 degree water.  I have a couple of pictures (somewhere) of me swimming in said water.  While I was at the Lake this summer, the water was around 56...perfectly acceptable for me to climb in.

So, day one, I'm out on the dock and beginning to roast.  Time to cool off I think as I crawl over to the metal ladder. 

It looks inconspicuous enough, right?

I'm about halfway into the water when something sharp strikes my foot.  What the... I glance toward my foot just in time to see a fish darting back towards the dock.  Uhm, that's new.  This occurrence urges me out of the water.  As kids how many times did we imagine fish that would eat us?  All the time.

Or what about that time J. was screaming that the minnows were going to eat him as he floated on the inner tube...?  ...That's another story...

I content myself with having been halfway in the water.  Oh well.  So there I lay, reading and sleeping until the sun goads me into the water again.  Alright, well, the fish is probably gone by now.  I get down to the second rung again, and feel a sharp strike on my foot again. Grrr.  Stupid fish!

The psycho attacking fish!

I'm not getting in the water.  The manfriend went to wash his face and the fish came to attack. Uh, hello... Not safe...the little bugger.  I don't think so, we're not getting in that water.  As I contemplate my options, I watch him chase off a few other fish that swim by.  One fish he manages to scare off is at least 1 1/2 feet long.

No matter what, this little guy is not leaving his territory right beneath the ladder.  Too bad I don't own a fishing license so I could catch a nice little dinner. Who am I kidding?  I won't eat him.  I just want him to let me swim.

Why did he have to choose under the dock for his nest (or whatever his reason for being there)?  Why not here?

It looks perfectly nice to me.  Or what about over there?

Or even that way?

Anywhere that would allow me to swim...

Ah well.  I'll make up for my inability to swim by roasting marshmallows over the fire.  The big ones. You know, the ones that are the size of your fist to begin with and swell up to the size of your head.  Those.

After note:  Upon returning from the Lake, I talked to my brother about the fish.  Apparently they're rampant up there this year.  A lot of deck owners are pestered by little mighty fish of their own.