Lloyd loves shrimp. I mean he loves shrimp. If it were legal to marry crustaceans, our marriage would be in some kinda trouble. (Well, except that he’d go to jail for eating his spouses… probably for a long time considering the polygamy/murder thing.)
I do not love shrimp. I do not love lobster. Once I went to a very fancy restaurant and ordered lobster, and when the waiter brought it out I suddenly remembered some documentary that showed the mama lobster doing a handstand in the water and shaking all the tiny lobster babies loose from her abdomen into the sea, and suddenly I was not hungry for this very expensive critter. No amount of butter could wash away that vision.
Shrimp are kind of the same. I can eat a couple if they are pre-shelled, despite the fact that it feels like eating a caterpillar. Lloyd had a pound left over from New Year’s, so he finished them off this week. We boiled them, though there are many ways to prepare them, and he ate them over noodles for two dinners. Note: A pound of shrimp is not actually extravagant that way. However, they will stink up the house mightily.
Look at those sad little legs.