Yesterday, we did not drive out to the country for an awesome Super Bowl party.
My friend Monica does not have a husband, originally from New Orleans, who is a huge Saints fan. We did not spend the entire football season listening to her say If I have to hear one more thing about these Saints...
Clearly, she did not promise her dear hubby an over-the-top pre-game seafood boil, New Orleans Style, if those Saints made it to the big show.
And we, her friends, in no way became beneficiaries of this promise. Nope.
We did not pull up into their driveway with a car that looked like this:
More on that later...
We did not witness 25 pounds of fresh crab legs and crawfish, strewn with potatoes, garlic, corn on the cob, andouille sausage, and mushrooms be hoisted up to counter level...
...and spilled onto newspaper for our eating enjoyment!
We did not stand around the counter like cave-people and rip apart that seafood with reckless abandon, sharing hot drawn butter while tossing crustacean carcass to the wayside in a haphazard manner. Not us!
I did not learn how to behead a crawfish, peel the tail, and de-vein the meat prior to eating. The process did not make me a bit queasy. Especially when someone referred to the vein as a "poop chute". Ahem...
I didn't feel the least bit guilty eating him:
The men-folk did not continue devouring their pray long after us ladies had our fill:
We did not, in the meanwhile, spend a lengthy amount of time debating whether the term Who Dat required a question mark at the end. We are not grammatical beings, us ladies.
Tyler, in all his crawfish glory, did not look more radiant than the day our children were born into this world:
Monica's Dad did not manage to polish off a large amount of food, leaving behind this pile of shells, cobs, and general mess:
There was not an insane amount of food left over, plus 10 additional pounds of seafood yet to be cooked:
I did not wish to be carried from house to car, for fear that my stomach would perforate!
And, now... for the truly Not Me! Monday-worthy part of my story...
I am a city girl, born and bred. So, it comes as no surprise that moving to Iowa for college and then to Kansas to start a new life was a bit of an adjustment for me.
In the years past, going to the country was synonymous with going to a place that didn't have a 3-story shopping mall, some high-rises, and a Super Target. You may recall my discussion on country living here.
So, nowadays, when we venture out into real country, my fascination abounds!
So, here's what happened yesterday, in a nutshell... Not Me! Style, of course.
On our way to the party, we did not see several cows off to the side, very close to their enclosure fence. I, being a huge dork, did not
Tyler did not roll his eyes and tell me I was insane. I did not persist in my begging, and he did not proceed to pull over so that I could get out.
As soon as we left the center path of the road, our car did not immediately begin to sink. Tyler did not try to pull out, to no avail. We did not spend 10 minutes maneuvering back and forth in hopes of climbing out of the mess.
Tyler did not get out of the car to push it, sink 12 inches into the snowy-muddy muck, and get back into the car to give driving out another try. His second try was not successful.
He did not leave the car once again so that I could climb over the center console and take the wheel as he pushed us back onto the center portion of the dirt and gravel road. We did not proceed forward the remainder of the mile to their house in complete silence.
To Tyler's complete disdain, I did not blurt out our
After the party, when Tyler's tummy was full of crawfish and crab legs and he was in much better spirits, I did not have the nerve to ask him to stop at the site so that I could take pictures for my blog.
He did not reluctantly oblige, staying in the center of the road this time...
And, although the cows had ventured much further from the fence, Tyler did not allow me to take my picture...
...from the comfort of the inside of our car!