who knew 'dis is what he gonna did?

Our older kids were born in Tennessee, but the younger two boys were both born in Louisiana...which is why we sometimes lovingly refer to them as Boudreaux and Thibodeaux.

That's BOO-drow and TIBBA-doe...for you Cajun-impaired.

But I'll get back to that in a minute.

Well, we had some family come visit over the Easter weekend, and what do you do when company comes a-callin'? You have a "boil." Obviously. Or actually, a "burl." I don't know. That's just what they call it. Maybe one day I'll do a post of Louisiana sayin's.

Anyway, what with it being Easter weekend and all, we could not find any live crawfish, only the already-boiled variety because apparently nothing says HALLELUJAH! HE IS RISEN! like throwing live mud bugs into a huge vat of burlin' water while they try to crawl out of the pot and bite you on the foot...and then callin' it dinner. So we bought some shrimp to boil instead.

Back to Boudreaux. Now all our kids adapted quickly to the eatin' of the crawfish even as little peeps, but the peelin'...well, that can be difficult. But we decided it was time for Boudreaux to learn because, as an experienced peeler, you can spend your entire meal peelin' and never get to eat because the little ones will pop 'em in their mouth as soon as you've peeled 'em, and quite frankly, it's hard to keep up.

Side note: There are several schools of thought concerning the peelin' and eatin'. I've seen the one at a time folks who peel and pop, peel and pop. Then there are those who suck the heads...and honestly? Please don't sit by me if you do that. 'Nuff said. Then there are those who patiently peel and peel and peel until they have a nice little pile and then go after 'em. You gotta admire that kind of delayed gratification, don't ya? But you have to develop your own style once you know how.

Today was Boudreaux's day. It was time to learn how to peel one. So he carefully chose one.

Ok...this one looks tasty.




Then "Papa Jim" showed him how to peel it like a man.




Mmmm. That's some fine eats.




Then what does he do?


He promptly sticks his finger in his eye...hot spice and all...


Oh Lordy, who knew 'dis is what he gonna did?


...and comes running into the house with "Aunt Connie" screaming, "My eye! My eye!" Though dramatic, she was actually fine, but the boy did need a little flushin' with the cold water.


Boudreaux was fine and lived to peel another day. I guess the whole "don't put your finger in your eye" thing will need to be added to the instructions when Thibodeaux gets a little bigger.



Anyway, here's the end result of a "burl." You just throw down some newspapers. But not just any newspapers. It doesn't matter if they are dated November 14, 2005, and have been riding in Connie's car. Let's be clear. She MUST HAVE READ THEM. Anyway, once we find some already-read papers, we just pour it all out on the table. Because we're fancy.




Cousin Marlana and Uncle Joey.




Cousin George caught 'im one.




Papa Jim and Aunt Kim.




Cousin Marlana with a big 'un.




So should any of you ever come visit, chances are there's a burl in your future.


But don't worry.


If you're a wuss, we also have a grill.