Jim is on vacation in the Florida Panhandle. He continues to be astounded that the armadillos, which are much like armored rats, don't simply cook in their shells like lobsters as they lumber across the 150 degree roads. Nature, it boggles the mind.
I'm going to the beach again today.
I know, I know. I promised to wrestle a shark.
And if I see one, I swear I will.
However, if I am unable to locate a shark, I promise to wrestle - barehanded and wearing nothing but a loincloth and coconut oil - a large Whataburger chocolate malted. There may be fries involved.
Yes, there is no risk so insane that I won't take it for you, gentle reader.
Afterward, just for you, I might put a piece of pecan pie into a headlock.