That’s right.  Me!
A taste of Southern hospitality.  And another. Because I was given a jar of cinnamon pickles also.  But alas I cannot transport these wonderous gifts, because of the fucking terrorists.  Because the jars contain liquid and the terrorists love their liquids.

Oh.  And because I didn’t bring any luggage capable of transporting jars without breaking.  And that had something to do with this:

NEVER EVER IN MY WILDEST DREAMS DID I IMAGINE THAT I WOULD NEED TO TAKE A JAR OF VENISON AND A JAR OF CINNAMON PICKLES ON A PLANE IN MY CHECKED LUGGAGE.

Um.  Yeah.

In some strange way, I _love_ the South.

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