Wolfgang wrote:

[little snip]

All my hooks (and a lot of other junk) were stored in one of
those upright metal cabinets with the clear plastic drawers.....the ones
that never slide properly in the first place and, given that they are always
over-filled, often won't open at all. The cabinet has been lying on it's
back for two years. Icky!

A couple of hours (and $50 at the fly shop buying things that, as I found
out later, after a more careful search, I didn't need anyway)

I believe that is Big Dale's first law of tying. (I.e., the things
you *need* to buy are usually just sitting under a pile of the things
you wonder why you bought in the first place.)

I was ready to
rock. Hooks, thread, chenille, calf tail, mallard flank, brown hackle, nail
polish......yep, all there. Pinch down a barb, chuck the hook in the vise
and.......ACK!......some evil ******* has stolen all my fingers and replaced
them with poorly disguised thumbs!

Some observations:

1. Even the strongest nylon thread weakens considerably after two years on
the shelf.
2. Hooks shrink.
3. There is considerably less light in the world than there used to be.
4. The labels on containers lie.
5. Materials in general have become unruly and disrespectful.
6. Hook eyes (and hackles) have developed an extraordinary affinity for
head cement.
7. Having magically absorbed a vast quantity of head cement from a
distance, hook eyes disappear entirely when approached by a bodkin.
8. Fingers (or thumbs, as the case may be) do not.

Hilarious, and oh so true. :-) In my case, I was away from fly
tying for almost twenty years. I was truly amazed at how much smaller
hooks had gotten since the eighties.

Nevertheless, perseverance pays off. After a mere day and a half of intense
labor leavened liberally with blood, sweat, tears, and occasional reference
to foreign language dictionaries in search of new profanities with which
relieve the tedium of repetition, I am the proud owner of 30 new pass lakes
and 18 equally virginal woolly buggers.

No doubt soon to be used to decorate the rocks and trees of your
favorite fishing destination.

When all is said and done, it is good to know that I haven't lost any of my
blinding speed and that the detritus left on the floor still doesn't
outweigh the finished product by all that much.

Ah, and that's why I do my tying in my "shop". That way the
detritus mingles with the plane shavings and doesn't look nearly so
obvious. :-)


Chuck Vance (laughing *with* you, not at you)