A League of His Own
We ate king crab tonight at my daughter's house that her friend (and ours, and everyone's really) Stuart caught this afternoon and cooked for us. It took a while for him to find the propane burner and the great big pot so he could boil the crabs on the deck. Also, it was late, about 8:30, when he showed up with it and he was a bit stressed. We were watching the Olympics and holding the baby and in no hurry. But Stuart stepped in the dog dish, and spilled some kibbles and water, and he was already kind of a mess, in a dirty sweatshirt and jeans. No one can be as messy as Stuart can. I mean that as a compliment. He's a hard worker, and a serious fisherman, and when he's been doing that all day he looks the part. Brian, my son-in-law, who also coaches the girls basketball team with Stuart, joked that he had gone to practice in those clothes, right from the boat. When Stuart's fiancee Lexie said "really?" Brian shrugged and said he lent him some shorts, but yes, basically that was Stu's look for the day. Then my husband came to Stuart's defense, and said that if Stuart cleaned up he might be able to get himself a prettier girlfriend. Stuart stopped filling the pot with water, and smiled really wide, and looked at Lexie, who is a stunningly beautiful blond school teacher. She blushed. Stuart's happiness cut right through all that grease and crab pot gunk when he declared, "that's impossible" and we all agreed. The fresh crab was in a league of its own, too.