(Before I get to today’s post, I’d like to take a minute to wish my most wonderful husband a happy thirtieth anniversary. No one knows me better, understands me better, or loves me better. I’m so thankful for the past three decades of marriage to this truly amazing man.)
When we went to Charlotte for Christmas, Steve got the handy dandy idea of taking along some fresh scallops and oysters. I mean what’s the sense of residing by the sea if you can’t share its bounty with those you love?
I was fine with the scallops. They’re actually pretty good wrapped in bacon and cooked on the grill. But oozy oysters in a shell? Ick. I figured as long as those nasty creatures stayed at least one hundred feet from my person at all times, we could coexist in a fairly peaceable manner.
And so we arrived in Charlotte and the Oyster/Scallop Hors D’oeuvres Extravaganza Preceding the Christmas Feast began.
Nathan absolutely loved the scallops but wasn’t too keen about the thought of eating a steamed oyster. However, when I offered to give him $5 to try one, he didn’t even blink. Cash-strapped newlyweds are all about earning a little extra moola.
Vernie required no bribe at all; she just sat right down, got the oyster arranged on a cracker and munched it on down. (And may I just say that she has the most beautiful skin. Can you believe she’s a great grandma?)
Steve’s younger brother, Jeff, was in fine form during the extravaganza, doing the Heeby Jeeby Dance as a way of poking fun at those of us who were sitting on the sidelines, shuddering with horror at the very thought of eating oily oysters. (If you didn’t know, the Heeby Jeeby Dance involves sticking both arms out and waving them around while turning in a circle. Jeff got lots of practice at it.)
Everyone was having a great time and everything was going along just swimmingly when suddenly, inexplicably, the mood changed.
Things turned ugly.
Eyes turned toward . . . me.
“Me?” I squeaked pitifully? “You want me to eat an oyster? I think NOT!”
I took a few steps back from the proceedings so that the alien nasty oysters couldn’t crawl out of their slippery shells and start stalking me around the deck. I was absolutely appalled at the thought of putting any slimy gray creature from the sea into my mouth.
However. Some arm twisting proceeded to commence and after trying to say no seventeen different ways, the situation eventually degenerated to the horrific point where a little oyster fella perched himself on a cracker and headed my way.
I cannot believe I am smiling at the oyster; I should have been screaming and gagging.
From that point on, it was not a happy sight. I am sparing you the worst of the faces I made, but I’m sure you can tell by the ones I’ve included that the whole experience was ranked right up there with childbirth in the Enjoyment Department. (That white thing is a napkin that Steve gallantly applied to my person before the trauma began.)
In closing, I would love to say that a good time was had by all; however, the oysters and I would have to respectfully disagree.
(All photos by Meagan Smith)
Rachel said, “Just love these pictures... I can't help but wonder what the temperature is in your house. It seems like Nathan is usually wearing shorts and a t-shirt when he is home...yet Meagan is in a sweat shirt and the rest of you are somewhere in between. lol”
Rachel, that is a very good question. I truly think that if Nathan lived on an iceberg in the arctic, he would still choose to put on his t-shirt and basketball shorts. So I guess you should get your hints as to our house’s temp from our clothes—NOT his! (And we keep it at about 71 degrees.)
Lizz wrote, “Sue G, your post (comment) brought tears to my eyes! Favorite parts "and especially for the miracle of the Life about Whom we celebrate this season" and "What I like about LOVE is that it can't be bought...but it sure can be returned!!!!" I love the last one so so much! I'm going to use it as much as possible! Wishing you many more Christmases!”
Lizz, I just love it when people use this forum to build other people up. And if anyone deserves a compliment on writing, it would be our friend, Sue. Thanks for drawing attention to yet another one of her wonderfully penned comments.
Karen, we would love for you to share Sarah’s story. Giving hope is what it’s all about!