Thank you for giving us a reason to miss work, stay indoors, and get paid to drink like it’s the apocalypse.
The new blog is currently under construction. I should finish at some point that is undetermined … if I survive Isaac the hurricane. What I really mean is if I survive the hurricane parties. The torrential winds, spawned tornado, possible flooding and frightening sized hail don’t scare me. Pshhh.
- Isaac to strengthen before hitting Florida (wtvr.com)
- Will God still be on Dems side if Hurricane Isaac buries New Orleans? (legalinsurrection.com)
- The latest on Isaac (wtvr.com)
Growing up in Shreveport, LA crawfish were not eaten so often as the deeper southern areas of Louisiana. Apparently Shreveport qualifies as a Texan city by most Cajuns, being that it is so close to the border. I have come to automatically expect being called out as a “Yankee” as soon as I mention my hometown anywhere south of Alexandria.
Anyway, I never liked crawfish growing up. This is sort of blasphemy, but it wasn’t a case of faulty taste buds. I may be a Yankee but my taste buds most certainly are not. No, the problem was that I was a lazy and picky eater (at least when it came to seafood). Not only was I never able to master the practice of peeling the mud bugs, but I was also annoyingly finicky about deveining. Okay, I admit I am still annoyingly finicky about the vein. Devein ALL the things!
When I moved to Lafayette, I soon became a part of many gatherings revolving around this delicacy. Read the rest of this entry