Today felt like summer. Kat, Sarah and I spent a blissfully sunny afternoon lounging about Hains Point — they swam in the pool, I walked around by the Potomac — then, for dinner, we smacked the hell out of hard shell crabs in Chesapeake Beach, Maryland.
I had a tough time with the initial de-shelling of the crabs. I could start the opening process, and I could smack the meat out of the shell with the little mallots, but I couldn’t do the part where you scoop out the crab’s lungs and whatever else it ate before it died. So I would pop them open (there’s a little tab on their undersides, it’s like opening a beer can) and then hand them to Kat, who would deftly gut and crack them into two pieces with one fell swoop. (This is why we have friends.)
Afterwards we stopped for hot fudge sundaes at the Tastee Freeze and thanked our lucky stars that we had already powered through adolescence, unlike the angst-ridden throngs of belligerent teenagers in the parking lot playing cards.
On the drive home, we almost died because of an attractive man in the next lane who kept looking over at us and licking his lips.