These suckers are homicidal little buggers, even after they're dead.

Somehow, it's only fitting that we should eat them. I'm thinking I should buy some (after all, they ARE on sale . . . ) just to have the satisfaction of munching on something which has stabbed and poked me so many times.

So, you're raising an eyebrow, right? Why on earth am I handling king crab legs?

Weeeellll, you see, the store owner, Larry, got confused.

I called in to the good old grocery store to inform them that I would indeed be able to work over semester break, if they could use me. I also inquired after a job for my fiance, as he had expressed interest in making some extra cash if he could. Finding that my fiance had experience in the seafood department, and seeing that a couple people were on vacation back there and they could really use the help, they decided to hire him. Moreover, Larry, the store owner, got the idea into his head that they needed me back there, too. So, I ended up double-scheduled at both the cash register and the seafood counter - Angie had to shuffle things around. In the end, both Matthew and I ended up working in the meat and seafood department for the duration of Christmas break.

Now, an interesting facet of this new position made itself apparent within the first ten or twenty minutes of my first shift. I am princessed to an excessive degree in the meat and seafood department - it seems the butchers are exceedingly unaccustomed to having young women around. A couple of these bloody-aproned, tall, burly men, having removed all the four letter words from their vocabulary (small traces of chivalry are present, by some grace), are nearly mute, when it is quite obvious that they are, by nature, nothing of the sort to remain so disinclined to conversation. I would have it no other way - their usual modes of expression would hardly suit my taste, but the situation is rather awkward, nonetheless. I may have traces of country-bumpkin ancestry: I can speak fluent red-neck, as Matt has now seen first hand, but my southern roots are not strong enough to make me comfortable with being called "Miss Eh-mahly" all the time.

Keep the wedding plans in your prayers, everybody. Things are currently looking kinda rocky in that area right now . . . why, oh WHY, can't I have a teeeeeny tiny little wedding, huh? Why not?

Lots of love!!