Oh, Monday, you come way too soon. I think I need an extra day added to the weekend. Here's a little funny to start the week. :)
This post isn't so much about food and the ever present struggle to lose weight and get healthy. This is the story of a little soul struggling for freedom. (I'm being way too dramatic about this but just play along.)
Saturday morning Chuck had a shooting match so I tagged along to watch. He didn't do as good as he wanted and was pretty disappointed. I think he's been getting complacent and this disappointment will help fuel him to try harder and do better. The talent is there. He just needs more practice time. And ammo isn't exactly easy to find right now. State match is just around the corner.
While Chuck is playing a game with friends, somewhere there is a little crawfish tied up in a sack. He's alive but his fate lies with a big pot of spices and potatoes and onions. It's not a good day to be a crawfish in southeast Texas.
Back in my life, we get home and cleaned up and relax for a while. Watch some TV. Browse Facebook. What's that? A sale on crawfish at a local restaurant? Let's go! We haven't been out in a while. Let's have a splurge night.
We sit at the bar because it's always interesting there. We watch a group of guys shamelessly flirt with the waitresses until the girlfriends show up and then that little show is shut down. I will never understand men like that. Chuck and I shake our heads and watch the show. Overheard one guy say, "I'm going to go home and wash the disappointment off."
We order some boudin balls. Order the boiled crawfish special which also comes with a bucket of beer. The waitress goes to the back and opens the sack of crawfish where our little friend has been sitting all day. The crawfish are dumped into the pot but one little crawfish hangs on to the bag for dear life. He's not going to let go. The waitress grabs him and takes him to the bar floor just to see how long it will take him to crawl across the entire length of the floor.
Our crawfish arrives and it's apparent very quickly that we should not have ordered the extra spicy. Our entire faces were tingling. We chatted about world events, hobbies, the people in the bar, and the spicy crawfish. All the time we make note of the little crawfish slowly making his way across the floor. Most waitresses don't even know he's there. He almost gets stepped on a few times. It seems odd to eat crawfish while watching a live one walk around.
We manage to finish off the "mudbugs" or mini lobsters. They were the spiciest crawfish I've ever had. Ever.
We sip on our last beer and watch as the crawfish is still struggling to find his way. Finally I ask the waitress if I can go behind the bar and get the crawfish. I'm not allowed behind the bar so I ask if anyone back there will get the little crawfish for me. After a few squeals from girls trying to pick up the little guy, a brave waitress grabs him and sets him on the bar.
I name my new friend Julio. He sits patiently as we finish our last beer and patrons ask what we're going to do with him. Every now and then Julio raises his little claws and gives us a peace sign. Or maybe it's victory in his case.
I ask the waitress for a to-go cup and I get Julio in there. It's a tight fit. He's not thrilled about this. Surely it's better than being tied up in a sack and squished with other crawfish though.
We make our way home and stop at the front pond of the neighborhood and set Julio free. He scurries backwards into some weeds to start his new life.
Little things may not mean much to the world but they can mean the world to little things.
In other news, still keeping the fats high. More on that Wednesday.