Oyster Roast - YUCK!

Wow - Saturday, March 10th just keeps going and going!  We first started out @ EdVenture for Storyland; then Guignard Park; then the Columbia Marionette Theatre for "The Wizard of OZ"; and then we decided to stop-in and see Daddy @ work.  And T H E N, we went to a neighborhood Oyster Roast...

Girls @ Daddy's desk

An awesome fleet of Mercedes'!

I'm trying to be the "winner" with this move...and MAN, it is hard

Staying with my husband's Aunt Velma means we're part of her neighborhood family -- at least that's what her neighbor, Mr. Bill said, who invited us to his annual Oyster Roast on Saturday. So, after everything we had already packed into our Saturday, we added the Oyster Roast too, and holy moly - it was a roast! 

Neighbors and friends just a'shuckin' away.

Somehow, someone (Mr. Ted - towards the end of the table on the right w/glasses and brown hat, & Michael - end of table on right w/blue jacket) convinced me that I need to eat an oyster.  Nope.  No way. I'm good.

These were just some of the fixin's: Shrimp Boil; chicken wings; homemade mac'n'cheese (you mean it doesn't always come in a blue box?); potato salad; macaroni salad with crab meat...

Michael cutting the muscle...doesn't it sort of look like there's a millworm on top of it?

Well, after taking pictures of a "real live oyster roast" and pictures of "what real Southern people eat" I got a LOT of ribbing from everyone that if I wanted to be a "real live Southern" person, I needed to eat an oyster. I kindly reminded them that I used to live in Charleston, and had been to oyster roasts before.  But none of that mattered.  Short of everyone chanting, "Oyster! Oyster! Oyster!" I consented...

Mr. Ted (remember him from above?) picked out "a good one," shucked it, and dropped it in my mouth.  Now..., no one told me not to chew it; no one told me to just swallow - don't let the slimy muscle linger in your mouth.  OK.  That being said, here's how it went:

And that's it. I was gagging, and started to do the "puke convulsions" so I spit it out and then hurriedly ate some Salt & Vinegar potato chips.  Aunt Velma was hopeful that I could do it, but when I couldn't, she quickly admitted that she could never eat an oyster either - and she is born/raised/bred Columbia, South Carolina!

N A S T Y ! ! !