Froggie Leggies

It's that glorious time of year when the hillbillies from every corner of the state crawl out of their cabins, march through the mountains, take their yearly bath and strap on their "good shoes" to make their way to Louisville. Yep, that's right! It's time for the Kentucky State Fair!

I'm sorry, I know I am just perpetuating stereotypes, but come on... you would laugh, too, if you were able to peak at the crowds swarming the fairgrounds all weekend. I promise everyone had shoes on.

James and I made our annual trek to the State Fair this past weekend and it was everything you could imagine: corn dogs, endless crap peddlers, funnel cakes, beer, crowds, giant vegetables, cake decorating contests, etc. I love every minute of the state fair. There is some grade A people watching if you ever wanted it.

We went with some of our friends who suggested we make our way to the Mike Lennig's tent for some friend fish and french fries. Mike Lennig's is also famous for their frog legs...

So as we sat amongst the hundreds of other people chowing down on fish parts, I asked James if he had ever had any frog legs. I had not. I remember my papaw ordering some at a restaurant in Florida one time, but I don't recall any of my family members actually consuming them.

James scoffed. Have I ever eaten frog legs? Well, yea! He acted as if this was one of the silliest questions he had ever heard. I was shocked. James isn't usually one to venture too far out of his meat and potatoes world. In fact, it is just in the past year or two that we both started eating fish. So I ventured further with my questioning.. When? How? What?

He scoffed at me some more... "Psshh... We used to go out back and gig 'em in the ponds behind the house and bring 'em in and dad would fry 'em up". Blegh. I churled a little in my mouth at the thought of baby James giggin' frogs right out of his back yard...

Side story: I actually used to have a "pet" fire bellied-toad. He had three legs and his name was Bojangles. One time all the crickets I bought for him to eat escaped in my room. Every night from then on it sounded like you were sleeping out in a field.

Anyway, I am still coming around to the idea of picking fruits and vegetables out of the yard and eating them, much less happening upon a defenseless frog and thinking "Hmm... I bet this would taste good battered up and deep fried!"  But then again, I am dating the man who, at around eight, was pictured with his first rifle, and a belt full of dead squirrels. (Picture to come soon.) ((Unfortunately.))