In which the food preparation is gently seasoned with "Furrikans"

It started with a fresh-caught, fresh-cooked crab

that our neighbor Joe brought over last night.

He actually brought THREE crabs, but I ate one that very night, so there were two remaining. (Jim doesn't enjoy crabmeat, and Willy is gone. Bwa ha ha ha--more for me!!!)

I wanted to make a really good breakfast using the crab and food from the farm. But I hadn't gone far before I made a discovery:
Out of butter.

We've been out of butter for a week! What's up with that? Jim and I have both stopped at the local grocery to restock beer, paper towels, and a thousand other things, and somehow we kept forgetting butter.

Argh.

This was the first "Furrikan."

You know Furrikans?

"Furrikan mow the lawn, I need to put gas in the mower. Furrikan put gas in the mower, I've got to get the gas can back from the neighbor who borrowed it. Furrikan ask for the gas can back, I've got to find the wrench I borrowed from the same neighbor last week...."

Furrikans.

Sometimes it seems like the farm is built on them.

My good breakfast plans depended on the participation of butter. I felt stupid firing up the pickup truck to drive 3 miles to the little gas station/store and back to get a single pound of butter.

Enter: The Junkyard Dawg.

The Junkyard Dawg is my faithful bicycle--it's actually a really nice bike, but the friend who gave it to me used it as a commuter bike in downtown Seattle and didn't want it to get stolen. She painted it all kinds of ungodly colors and put rude stickers on it. I love this bike.

But of course, the bike comes with Furrikans.

Furrikan take the bike, gotta find my helmet. And my ancient MP-3 player (and furrikan use the mp-3 player, I gotta find a fresh battery)....

Off to the store went I with the Junkyard Dawg. Back came us with butter. Success! Time to make breakfast.

Except I want to cook some potatoes for breakfast. (you can guess the next part, right?)

Furrikan cook potatoes, I gotta go dig them up.Not a huge problem. I've got a shovel, and a potato patch that's ready for harvest. These potatoes weren't even properly planted, actually--they are the children of a bunch of russetts that got all shrivelled and hairy last winter. Jim was going to feed them to the chickens, but I tossed them in the manure pile instead, and then threw more manure on top.

Six months later: breakfast ingredients.But wait. These potatoes need some rosemary tossed in.

The herb bed is full of weeds! Furrikan pick some rosemary, I gotta pull some weeds.

Whew.I picked some tarragon leaves while I was out there. No sense in wasting a perfectly good Furrikan.

The tarragon goes in with the eggs. But furrikan collect eggs, I'll need to feed the chickens. Okay! We're good to go now!

While the potatoes are cooking, the eggs can mingle with the tarragon.

Furrikan toss the crabmeat on the eggs, I'll need to crack the crabshells (which reminds me of a really great story, but furrikan tell the story I gotta finish making breakfast!)

Furrikan wash the egg bowl and fork, I have to let the dogs "prewash" for me.

While everything's cooking, I can dash out and give the crabshells to the chickens!

I really need to write a blog post about this wonderful meal.

But furrikan write the blog post, I'm gonna eat breakfast!