I'm Thinking He's Not Dead

In my attempt to lead a healthier lifestyle

I've been loading up on more veggies

and lean meats.

I bought some catfish fillets

and seasoned them with Cajun spices.

I've had fried catfish

Deep Fried Catfish.

Pretty good.

But I decided to go with a healthier version.

Yesterday I blackened the fillets in my cast iron skillet.

And then I tasted it.

Or shall I say, that I brought it up to my mouth

and the smell hit me before I could taste it.

You know how smells can trigger a memory?

Like a new box of crayons bringing you back to kindergarten?

Or the smell of fall leaves?

Or the smell of fresh cut grass?

The smell of the catfish brought a memory too.

See, we used to have turtles when we were young.

Myrtle, Tim and Pigpen.

But the names aren't important.

We didn't clean out their habitat often enough.

We would wait until the smell permeated the family room

and then begrudgingly wash out the cloudy poo filled water.

That was the smell.

I didn't eat the catfish.

Brian did and he was up all night with an upset stomach.


I felt bad for him
even though I had told him not to eat the turtle poo dinner.
I tried to get him to let me make him
hotdogs.

Because, hotdogs are the go to meal around here
when ever I burn/ruin/drop dinner.

But he ate the smelly meal
and wasn't feeling well.
I don't think I poisoned him
but I can't be sure since he's at work now.

With Diarrhea.
Did I tell you he's a truck driver?
Nice.

So today I mowed the lawn for him.
So we're kinda even.

Holly