The Klatch
Eunice Packs Emergency Opener Sandwiches
The official recommendation is ham, mustard, and no lettuce unless you want trouble.
Read the full story →Vol. CXXIX — No. 18 · Archive Section
The Klatch & Living
Tuesday, May 5, 2026 · Fishing Opener Preview · Full weekly section page with current issue material, standing notices, and back-page items.
Living Features
The Klatch Board
Eunice’s Notebook
Emergency Opener Sandwiches
Eunice’s recommendation for opener is ham on white bread, mustard, butter on both slices if the wind is north, and no lettuce unless you want a wet sandwich and a lecture.
Wrap sandwiches in wax paper, not plastic. Plastic makes the bread sweat, and bread has enough burdens.
Rhubarb watch: first usable stalks expected next week behind the parsonage, assuming the deer honor the arrangement.
Personals & Thanks
From the Kitchen Table
- Happy anniversary to Don and Ruth Aune, 52 years, most of them with the same boat.
- Thank you to whoever returned the Fire Hall spatula. It has been missed.
Living · Stars Over the Chain
The Week in the Stars
As read by Sigrid Pelto, who has lived in Misquah her whole life — but for college, and the summer of 1995, when she and the girls did Europe on a rail pass and a woman in a Florence market took her hand and told her she had the gift. She reads from the end of her dock on Loon Lake.
We’re in Taurus season now, which is the patient stretch — the stars asking us to wait for a good thing, the way we wait every year for the opener. Mars is strong too, so don’t be surprised if you’re up before your alarm. The Moon’s filling out toward Saturday, and I don’t need to tell you what Saturday is.
Aries
Mars has you up before the birds, and there’s no use fighting it. Go ahead and be the first boat out — you always are, and the lake doesn’t mind an eager soul. Just try not to wake the whole road doing it.
Taurus
It’s your season, and your season is patience, which you have more of than anybody. You’ve got the minnows, the thermos, the whole week handled. Hold steady through Friday. Saturday will come; it always does.
Gemini
Your birthday time is nearly here, and your mind’s already running ahead — the bait, the brunch, the rod you said you’d lend. Write it down, dear. I keep lists for just this reason, and they’ve never once let me down.
Cancer
The Moon’s filling out, and it’s stirring up the old opener feelings — your dad’s tackle box, the cold coffee, the quiet before light. Let them come. Some of us fish to catch and some to remember, and the lake has always had room for both.
Leo
The Sun’s good to you this week, so you’ll be telling last year’s opener story again, and telling it well. That’s fine — hold court at the Daybreak. Just leave a little room for somebody else’s fish to be the big one this time.
Virgo
You’ve checked the lights and the forecast and the rule book twice over, and good for you. But the walleye haven’t read the rules, and they’ll do as they like. Plan for everything, then forgive the lake the one thing you couldn’t plan.
Libra
There’s going to be a fuss about the new parking lines, and you’ll be tempted to settle it. Don’t take a side. Park straight, keep your peace, and let Pete and Lloyd wear themselves out. They enjoy it more than they’ll admit.
Scorpio
You want a big one this year, badly enough to keep your spot a secret. That’s all right. Just don’t let the wanting eat the whole morning — come up for coffee and a little company now and then. The fish will keep.
Sagittarius
You’ll have your eye on the far end of Whitefish, where nobody else bothers to launch. Go on, then. And when somebody asks to borrow your good rod, say yes — you’ve always been generous, and it comes back around.
Capricorn
You’ve gotten ready like you’re building something to last, and the boat is fine, truly. The one thing you forgot is small and warm, and Eunice already has it in the basket. Let somebody help you for once. It won’t cost you a thing.
Aquarius
Everybody’s losing their head over Saturday, but you know the quiet secret — Sunday’s calmer, and the fish can’t tell the days apart. Keep it to yourself if you like. The empty lake on Sunday will be yours.
Pisces
The water’s still cold, and if I’m honest you’ve been a little cold yourself lately. Both will warm with the season; there’s no hurrying either. Sit on the dock a while. May is long up here, and you’re allowed to be slow in it.
On Your Big Three. People ask me to explain the three big pieces, so here it is the way I learned it. Your Sun is who you are at the Daybreak counter, where everyone can see you. Your Moon is who you are at two in the morning, when the wind comes up off the lake and you can’t sleep. And your Rising is who the new pastor thinks you are, before he knows any better. I read all three by appointment, Tuesdays, out at the end of my dock — weather and coffee permitting. Bring your birth time if you’ve got it. Bring a thermos if you don’t.