Matt loves crab as much, we’ll almost as much, as I do

I saw it at Sonoma Market, asked the butcher “Is it local?” “Yes” “2 please!”

What a fun surprise to bring home to Matt I think

At dinner time I out the crab out, melted butter, lemon, Caesar salad

I ask “do you want me to pick the crab meat for you?”

”I have picked crab for 40 years, I know how to do it”

Ok

I dive into my crab, getting big juicy morsels, oh yum!

I glance over at Matt, trying to not make it obvious I am looking

He is trying to eat the crab leg, shell and all

He uses a fork to try to pick the crab leg (shell and all) off the plate

Then, he tries to bite down on the body….twisting, turning

I pick a big piece of crab meat out, put it on his plate

He eats the crab meat I put there, doesn’t say a word

He tosses the body he’s been working on in the discard bowl, most of the meat still on

So I pick a little for me, pick a little for him

And so goes the dinner

I don’t mind, I love picking crab, love it

The butcher did a fabulous job of cracking it for us, fabulous, no nut crackers needed at all

He is saying he can do this or that these days, holding onto that in his mind……but execution doesn’t prove him out

It’s such a pickle sometimes, it doesn’t work out always like the crab where a shift between us in execution isn’t spoken…..the shift just happens

He argues about having fed the dog for 30 years, he says No when I say I need to do it now

Then he fills up the storage container of food with water, ruining half a large bag, wasting good money

It gets me upset, we catch it, try to dry as much as we can out, tossing the soggy

Lo, our new caregiver says, as we are trying to salvage the food: I guess you need to move the dog food

Yeap…..