I’m a planner. I like to have everything mapped out ahead of time, whether it’s my five-year career plan or my approach to the weekend laundry. So while all of you have been daydreaming your time away, I’ve been diagramming my plan for the zombie apocalypse. Because I think we can all agree that the zombie apocalypse is not an if scenario, but a when.

The three most important things to consider during the zombie apocalypse are as follows:

1. Where will I live?

2. What will I eat?

3. What will be my weapon of choice?

For me, living and eating go hand-in-hand. The basics of what I’ll need for food consist of protein, fruits/veggies, and fresh water. (Bet you thought I was going to say Double Stuf Oreos there. The world has ended. We’re going to have to make sacrifices, friends.) This is why I’m going to move to North Port, Florida during the zombie apocalypse. There’s a warm mineral spring there for fresh water, it’s near the ocean so I can fish, and there should be plenty of orange groves for fruit. I figure I can find a nice, gated retirement community, kill all the old-people zombies living there, and take it over. How will I get there, you ask? I’ve already designed my transportation. I call it a Spike Bike (patent pending). I’ll just ride down, and any zombies that cross my path along the way will be impaled on my front bike fender.

Of course, for the first year of the apocalypse, I can supplement my fish/orange/mineral water diet with supplies plundered from the grocery store. This will give me time to plant my cacao and coffee bean trees. As I said, some sacrifices will have to be made, but I’m not giving up my coffee or chocolate. We don’t have to turn into heathens, after all.

All that I have to worry about from there is my zombie-killing weapon. I love Daryl Dixon on The Walking Dead as much as the next gal, but a crossbow just isn’t efficient. He’d have to constantly be on the lookout for more ammunition. This is why I recommend a handheld, pointy instrument. Michonne’s choice of a katana sword makes a lot more sense to me. It’s sharp, it provides a bit of distance between her and the zombie, and it lops off heads like a hot knife through butter. However, why not take it one step further? Maybe increase the distance between your brains and the attacking zombie? This is why I’ll be spearing the undead with a giant whaling harpoon. Sure, it’s heavy and maybe awkward to lug around, but if it can kill a whale, surely it can take out a zombie or two.

Uh-oh. I just heard on the radio that toxic waste was discovered leaking into the East River. I’m sure the rest of you will feel pretty foolish in a few weeks. I’m going to grab my fishing pole and pedal off to North Port—see ya!

On this Father's Day, I thought I'd share some wisdom that my father has been kind enough to impart on me over the years. Things like . . .

When fishing, choose your bait wisely. 
You're not going to catch stripers with a squid jig, that's for sure. If what you're hoping to attract is something slimy and tentacle-y and spits ink, then by all means, break out the colorful and wildly inappropriate jigs. Just kidding—you're not leaving the house dressed like that, young lady. Go get yourself a nice, sensible lure, preferably with a high neckline.

Do something you love, and don't apologize for it.
My dad is a farmer. He's been retired for years, but he's still a farmer. He loves animals, can identify every plant in New England by sight and/or taste, and by golly, you haven't lived until you've heard him describe the intricacies of artificially inseminating a cow. He never apologizes for any of this—he doesn't have to. The man knows his stuff. If you don't want to hear about frozen bull semen over dinner, eat somewhere else. It is because of him that I don't feel the need to apologize if I've taken twenty minutes to describe the intricacies of dependent clauses in sentence structure. Maybe you're bored, but I'm having the time of my life.

If you don't love it, quit—but have a backup plan.
I'll never forget the smile on my father's face when I told him I wanted to quit taking dance lessons. The idea that he'd never have to sit through a recital again, watching his daughter pirouette when everyone else was shuffle-ball-changing, didn't upset him at all. I told him I planned on taking art classes instead.
"Will there be recitals?" he asked. 
"No," I said, and Dad hugged me. "But you'll come to my art shows, right?"
Immediately, his face fell. Oh, well. Dad was never much of a hugger anyway.

Never stop learning.
One of the best things about my father is that he can do anything. I know people always say this about their dads, but in my father's case, it's totally true. Fix a car, skin a deer, build a solid investment portfolio, cook a gourmet meal using nothing but greens from the lawn and a random turtle, build a shed, repair a television using toothpicks, gum, and duct tape . . . my dad can do it. If he's never done it before, he'll learn how to do it. And then he'll teach his family. Turtle soup, anyone?

Never put your hand in a corn chopper.
Dad's all about making wise decisions. He was adamant that his daughters be safe when we lived on the farm, insisting that we stay away from blades, heavy machinery, and farm hands. My point: Dad is a big proponent of common sense. Don't stick your hand into a clogged chopper blade unless you *want* to be called Stumpy for the rest of your life.

There's no crying in baseball.
Was that Dad or Tom Hanks? Could've been Dad—he's not a big fan of tears—but I suspect it was Tom Hanks. Wait, I think what Dad said was "Listen to your mother." That certainly makes more sense.

Happy Father's Day, Dad! Thanks for making the term "farmer's daughter" something to be proud of.

It's fishing season again. If you have a fisherman in your household, then you know what this means - endless days of sitting on the beach, freezing your tuckus off and slapping sand fleas as they bite your legs. However, if you are truly dedicated to your fisherman, the following tips might make your life easier!

1. Know your tide tables. Nothing ruins a college graduation or child's birthday party faster than your fisherman not showing up because it's an ideal tide for fishing. Knowing your tide tables will help you to avoid planning pesky nuisances like dinner during peak fishing hours.

2. Know your bait. Nobody wants to be the guy who brought the wrong lure to the fishing party. Familiarizing yourself with the proper bait for the target catch will make your fishing trip much more pleasant. I find it helpful to keep emergency packets of squid innards, minnows, and maggots in the cooler  next to the cold sodas.

3. Prepare for any situation before leaving the house. Wear short sleeves for warm weather, pack sunscreen, bring a sweatshirt for cooler weather, wear rubber boots over your sneakers in case of rain, don't forget an umbrella (you don't think a little monsoon will cause your fisherman to pack up early, do you?), bring a blanket for sitting on the beach and wrapping up in once the temperature drops, and bring a shovel as a handy walking stick/beach fire prevention tool...just in case. It's also important to remember to spray yourself in insect repellant beforeleaving the house. Otherwise, the soft "fwoosh" of the bug spray on the beach might scare the fish away, something your fisherman will hold against you for years to come.

4. Know your fishing knots. Lost hooks and lures are par for the course while fishing. You never know when you will be called into service to re-tie a hook at a moment's notice. Remember the angler's rule of thumb when tying hooks: the rabbit runs around the tree three times before jumping in the hole. Bonus:As a fun beach activity, why not tie a few flies while watching the fishing line drift listlessly in the water?

5. Know your limits. Size limits, of course (your limits of patience and endurance will be tested throughout the day.) Familiarize yourself with state regulations on every breed your angler is trying to catch and make sure you can cite them when prompted. It's helpful to know the limits on all the fish in the ocean - you never know when your fisherman will aim for a fluke and reel in a scup. Don't forget the tape measure!

Overall, it's your choice whether to spend the day fishing with your loved one or to read a good book in the comfort of your own home. After all, nobody's going to ask you to stab a meal worm with a hook when you're camped out on the couch. Even then, you're never safe - after all, someone's got to fillet, de-bone, prepare and cook the big catch once your fisherman brings it home!

In honor of Father’s Day, I thought I’d write about my Dad, or as I like to call him (never to his face) Poppa Bear.

My father has taught me many lessons in life, including the importance of not dating anyone who works on your father’s farm because your Dad has heard them talk and they’re all pigs.  He also taught me things like how I’m not going to leave the house in a skirt that barely covers my butt, and how I am never going to take that tone with him again.

In all seriousness, my father is a pretty awesome guy.  He’s kind-hearted; he can start up conversations with complete strangers; and he can build houses, fix cars, trap wildlife, and shoot deer like nobody’s business.  The amazing thing is that he seems to be completely unaware that the rest of us regard him as something like Superman.

Dad has taught me how to tie a hook, cast a line, and filet a fish, so I will never starve.  (An odd side effect of this skill – I was never without a date, either.)  He has taught me about expense ratios, mutual funds, and Morningstar ratings, so I can understand what to do with my 401(k) and my IRA.  (An odd side effect of this skill – again, never at a loss for a date. However, the quality of guy that was asking me out improved.)  He showed me how to change a car battery, car tire, and how to re-mount the rear view mirror – all things every woman should know.  And he taught me how to prepare venison so that it’s so tender, it melts in your mouth (not that we’re big venison eaters at our house, but it’s a handy talent to have).

Most importantly, Dad has taught me how to handle myself in any social situation, how to talk to strangers and leave as friends, how to be patient with people who love to talk on and on, and how to be kind to people who are unsure of themselves.  He is better at all of these things than I am, but thankfully, I’m still learning from him.

He also taught me that it’s never a good idea to walk barefoot through warm cow manure.  That’s just not sanitary, people.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad!