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To: Taro who wrote (11517)	4/16/2007 10:54:01 AM
From: Rambi	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 51717

Some of my happiest childhood vacation memories are of crabbing on the Outer Banks. I never could figure out why, some people couldn't appreciate the joy of tying a rotten chicken leg to a string, dangling it in the water and waiting for that subtle tug, or the hunter's thrill of netting the victim, who continued to cling to the chicken with stubborn greed even as he was hauled out of the water. Or the drama of opening the trunk and discovering the bucket of crabs had overturned and 30 terrified crabs were scuttling around waving their pincers ominously while my brother and I screamed and ran around the car, equally terrified. And then the pinnacle of the experience: the hours the family spent together around the newspaper-clad table, sucking every little claw and picking out teeny slivers of meat with fingers shriveled by crabjuice, jealously guarding our little bowl of melted butter. My husband, though he tried gamely, never could appreciate the experience, and now, thanks to your explanation, I finally understand why. He just isn't a crab person. He knew that somehow he was failing me, and he tried to make up for this. He always brought us live crabs when he returned from business trips to the Bay area and lobsters from his Boston trips. He never ate them, but took some small pleasure from the nervous faces of seatmates when they heard the sound of scritching claws coming from under his seat. Lobsters don't count of course, because the rewards are faster and greater, and they require much less work. But I suppose it could make you a sort of junior crab eater unless you're the kind who just wants an open tail with the meat already pulled placed in front of you.