In New Brunswick, Brad and I went out for lunch. At lunch I met Lobster #1:
(for the record the bib was not actually used other than as a prop for this photo)
Several days later in Prince Edward Island, I was feeling a bit blue, Brad decided an introduction to Lobster #2 might cheer me up (he was right):
In Maine, I concluded another introduction was essential:
My relationship with Lobster #3 is a little uncomfortable - I saw him live and not so orange, before collecting him 30 minutes later cooked and neatly bagged, then nursed him tenderly in my lap until we arrived at our sleeping spot for the night, and dinner was served.
There is a distinct possibility that I have a lobster addiction. I've always been a crayfish fan (just ask my mum) but lobsters are tastier. Did I mention, there's just something I find EXCEPTIONALLY rewarding and enjoyable about having to work to get my food out of it's casing. Brad is contemplating sleeping in a locked sleeping bag from now on...
Sadly we're homeward bound, so if you see me trembling, vomiting, or exhibiting other drug withdrawal type symptoms in the next few weeks don't worry, it's just the lobster.
And a final note, in case you've ever wondered lobster will not cure the common cold, trust me, I tried it with Lobster #3.
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