The photo above is from the dock at the crab house on Gwynns Island. They don't wear crab hats at the crab house, but they really ought to consider it.(See Monday's post for a full appreciation of The Crab Hat and its many uses. I'm convinced The Crab Hat could solve many diplomatic dilemmas and help guide the human race towards world peace. Or at least a few laughs.)
Crab house workers spend many dark hours indoors picking crab meat under black lights that help illuminate every shred of meat in the shells. It's really quite the operation,and I never would have known this if not for a tour arranged by Chesapeake Bay Father a few years ago.
He hauls seafood (part-time) for the owner of this place and drives a truck to Jessup, Maryland, some nights, or Landover other nights. Rising at 2:00 a.m., he heads to Deltaville where he picks up his seafood-laden truck which he then steers to distributors up north. There he waits for his truck to be unloaded before he drives the several hours back home, sometimes not arriving until noon the following day.
That's not an easy way to make a living when you're almost 70 years old.
Picking crab meat is not an easy way to make a living either. It's tedious work, but I'll bet a few good crab hats would brighten their days.
I should send them some...
Note to self: A tour of the crab house would be a great Blog Fest activity.
Second note to self: Until you get your act together and come up with a Blog Fest itinerary, there's no way of knowing if there's even time for a tour of the crab house. Why don't you get to gettin' on that agenda? ("Get to gettin'" is one of my favorite sayings, fyi.)
Third note to self: Self, leave me alone. I'm tired, and there's too much going on.
Fourth and final note to self: Get with the program and focus on Blog Fest. And don't laugh at my use of the term "focus." Now get to gettin'.
