I carpool to work in the mornings with a colleague who shall remain nameless1. Sometimes we ride with my wife, who shall also remain nameless2, and even through our commute is only seven to nine minutes, depending on a few variables3, the dialogue is often lively.

What we talk about generally can be classified in one of three categories:

1. The nameless carpooler’s children.

2. My nameless wife’s and my dogs.

3. Work.

Or lately a fourth category of conversation has been my nameless carpooler’s recently acquired hobby, which in the wake of recent comments by Tribune online readers, I will not mention4.

But I couldn’t wait for this morning’s ride to work as I planned to tell the nameless carpooler about my Valentine’s Day, which doesn’t fit neatly into any of the aforementioned categories, which will make us feel like true rebels for not being cliché5 and predictable. Because my wife, who shall remain nameless6, understands the folly in Hallmark-created holidays7, she gave me permission to go ice fishing8 on Sunday.

It brought me to two conclusions9:

1. Nameless wife is the best wife ever10.

2. Ice fishing is the greatest winter pastime11 since making snow angels was invented.

I don’t enjoy summer fishing nearly as much12. And admittedly, my love of fishing and all things outdoors pales in comparison to my father, who tried unsuccessfully to pass on his love for outdoors to me13. But I have rediscovered my love of ice fishing this winter after twice accompanying friends. Giving it the edge over summer fishing are such things as space heaters and controlled temperatures, satellite TV14 and the constant loud and witty banter15 shared among friends. It definitely beats sitting in front of a computer, which I find myself doing way too often in the winter.

Like so many hobbies, it’s not just about the hobby but about the positive experience of enjoying that hobby with friends and family16. Watching my friend ice fish this weekend was great, as he and I hadn’t seen each other in a while, and exchanging witty e-mails and texts is not true interaction17.

So I am in the market for a fish house for next winter. I won’t be buying one until next fall, when, of course, prices will be at their peaks18. But in the meantime I will be researching, inquiring19, scouring the classified ads and saving my pennies.

And, of course, purchasing a fishing license20.

Albert Lea resident Riley Worth is a teacher at Albert Lea High School. He can be reached at rileyworth@gmail.com.

1. Jeremy Corey-Gruenes

2. Amanda Lester

3. Road conditions, stop lights and number of stores open selling fresh doughnuts

4. Type in the previously mentioned nameless carpooler’s name and the word home brew into the Tribune’s search engine.

5. I’m having my young journalists read this column later this week as part of our opinion column writing unit this week, mostly as an example of what not to do, opposite a reading of one of Dave Barry’s classic nose hair or exploding toilet columns: www.davebarry.com. Hey, don’t laugh; Barry won a Pulitzer Prize for his ridiculous, non-sensical writings. Actually, go ahead and laugh. That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do. But if my students get anything out of reading this besides how not to write, maybe it’ll be an understanding of the word cliché, which is truly one of the best things Americans ever stole from the French.

6. See footnote No. 2.

7. Note to self: Buy flowers for wife on some random Sunday just in case she was just saying Valentine’s Day is ridiculous, but doesn’t actually believe it.

8. No, Mr. or Mrs. DNR person/faithful reader/now former faithful reader, I do not have a fishing license. I simply sat inside the ice house as my friend fished his legal two lines.

9. Yes, I realize I overuse numbered lists in my columns, especially since my lists generally only have two or three items. A simple mentioning in sentence form, separated by commas would be sufficient. Chalk it up to the nervous energy of writing a column at 5:09 a.m.

10. No, this is not hyperbole. She truly is the best. I did a scientific poll. OK, no I didn’t. But she is the best.

11. Quite possibly hyperbole.

12. Admittedly, the thrill of catching a fish is the same no matter the season. What differs is the amount of recreational options available during the various seasons.

13. Our family had snowmobiles when I was a child, but my father sold them after the 42nd time he had to walk out to the field and get me and the neighbor boy unstuck from a snow bank. Snow banks like I haven’t seen in many winters, until this year. He also took me deer hunting, but my deference for a warm bed instead of a cold tree stand ended that in a hurry.

14. Admittedly, watching over one shoulder as David Duval attempts to capture his first PGA tournament in nine years sits in odd juxtaposition to watching over my other shoulder as my buddy peer down through a hole in the ice, but I think it’s one I enjoy.

15. Despite a lifelong affinity for golf, I’ve never been good at whispering. That thick coat of ice provides a nice sound barrier between the fish and the humans trying to angle them in.

16. Much like pool or darts, I can’t imagine ice fishing is much fun done in solitude, unless, of course, I had along a good book or a pile of English essays in need of grading. Besides, I sold my truck many years ago so I’ll need to find a friend with a four-wheel drive truck and a hitch to help me get the house onto the ice.

17. Yes, I am talking to all you Facebookies/faithful readers out there.

18. An attempt at self-deprecation.

19. Using valuable Tribune opinion page space to let people know I am looking into buying a fish house. Please don’t tell editor Tim Engstrom.

20. Because I believe in following the rules and doing things legally. See you in two weeks. Until, happy fishing.