I am NOT a bassaholic!

Hi, my name is Teri and I am NOT a bassaholic, but I did marry one a number of years ago.

Terri and Scott McGehee

Hi, my name is Teri and I am NOT a bassaholic, but I did marry one a number of years ago.

 So how do you tell if you're married to a bassaholic? Well, let's see ... there are several indications.

 1. Do all of your vacations involve pulling a boat?
2. Have you ever spent Christmas at Lake Guerrero?
3. Does your vacuum cleaner always have little pieces of fishing line wrapped up in it?
4. Do the clerks in the local Bass Pro Shop know you by name?
5. Did you design your new house around the dimensions of the garage?
6. Do you know the name of over 10 lakes that you haven't been to?
7. Do more the 80 percent of the pictures on your refrigerator have fish in them?
8. Have you ever had to help remove hooks from the cat or dog?
9. Do you have small dents in the corner of the den from flipping practice?
10. Is the bank account usually empty at the end of the month?

If you answered yes to 5 or more of these questions, you definitely live with a bassaholic. I should know. I've been a member of this not so elite group for over 27 years now. And although being married to a bassaholic presents some challenges, it's certainly not all bad.

 I'll never forget our trip to Okeechobee. We were expecting our first child, and Scott was trying to show me how exciting fishing can be — something about using Shriners or shiners, I am not sure which.

 Well, he got me out on the lake very early in the day. After we ran out of the shiners, he tied a buzzbait on my line. He said, "Wait until one of them eats this. The fish will come out from under the lily pads and just go 'Whuump!'" And they really did. It was so exciting! I caught my first — and only — 6-pounder and was so proud. There is even a silly picture of me with it trying to take a bite of it.

 And there was the trip to Guerrero for Christmas. Scott had told me about taking these trips with his dad when we were in college and had told me how it was warm enough to swim and we'd catch a hundred bass a day. Well, as we loaded up the motor home in the coldest December in Mississippi history, I kept pointing out that it was 10 degrees.

 "Don't worry," Scott said. "It'll get warmer as we go south." And he was right. It got to almost 40 degrees the last day we were there.

 One of the main things that I have learned being married to a bassaholic is that once they're in that going fishing mode, nothing gets in the way.

 Being married to a bassaholic isn't so bad. It's certainly never boring. And it's a life filled with wonderful stories and memories. Like staying out so late that time at Okeechobee that all the restaurants were closed, so we had nabs for dinner. Or not having enough fish at Guerrero for the two night's meals I had planned. Or finding out, after getting back from the Potomac, that the reason our 5-year-old daughter didn't want to go on the trip was because we told her we were taking the boat. She thought we were riding all the way there in the boat. Or seeing the smiles on our children's faces when they each caught their first bass.

 I guess that's why we're still married. I can tell that Scott really enjoys what he is doing. He has passed on his love for bass fishing to both our son and our daughter. He is a great dad and spouse (when he's home.) And, as Scott has always said, "She's the perfect wife for me. She's always glad to see me leave and she's always glad to see me come home."

 And you know what? I can live with that.

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