Thursday, July 9, 2015

Fish as a Dish, Fish as a Fear

I am absolutely 100% terrified of fish. Anything much larger than your standard goldfish freaks me out. Even when they're dead, wrapped in plastic, and in the frozen food section, if it still has a head on it, I secretly believe it can come to life and kill me. I know it's stupid. Logically, I know it probably, most likely, really could never happen... but a tiny part of my brain is still convinced it can.

I bring this up because yesterday Hubbs caught a fish, his very first fish, and he was incredibly proud. His friend taught him how to gut and clean it (and for my sake, remove the head). His friend even kindly threw the head in the dumpster down the block instead of leaving it in our garbage can, where in the night, it could obviously make its way upstairs and into the bedroom to attack and try to eat me.

We baked it in the oven stuffed with slices of lime, butter, and just a dash of salt and pepper. Let me tell you, that brown trout was absolutely scrumptious. Next time, he's going to go catch some rainbow trout. I certainly welcome many more fresh caught headless fish into our home for delicious dinners.

I know the fish fear stems from my traumatic snorkeling expedition as a child, eventually it morphed into a fear of a majority of things that live in the ocean. Some part of me is even convinced that there's a secret trapdoor shark tank in every pool and one day someone will press the release button while I'm swimming. To this day I get freaked out and refuse to swim in a pool alone, no matter how shallow it is. It really seems quite pathetic now that I say that out loud. I'm weird I guess, and that's ok.

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