Seriously. So I thought I was done with the Florida posts for the summer but, alas, this story is too good to pass up. (And by "good" I am referring to the accidental spiking of the fruit punch at a birthday party. Oh wait, no, it's more like the ridiculously-crazy-must-be-rehashed-on-my-blog type of good....)

So, picture it: 
There you are, driving by the old-lady-down-the-street's house, honking to say hi like you always do and you see her being EATEN BY AN ALLIGATOR! (Did I not warn you? Tsk tsk. She should have been reading Graceful Chicken.) Please click here for the full story. 

Now, I don't know what you saw when you read that article but a couple things in there stuck out to me like the teats of a milking cow, a turd in the punchbowl, a fox in the chicken coop:

1) First of all, it is so southern I can almost taste the fried chicken grease juice drippin' off the screen. Not only did the neighbor say this woman was "as nice as the day is long" but her relative said that telling her not to pick mangoes from the tree next to the canal was like "telling a song bird not to sing." (They really do talk that way down in those parts. Honest.)

2) The neighbor driving by just happened to have a gun with him. In his car. On his way home from work. Because he might need it to shoot a rogue alligator in the right eye before it eats the neighbor??? You just never know.

3) And I quote: “For area residents that have lived here all their lives, they’re still in a state of shock.” Really? Because YOU LIVE IN A SWAMP! It's the EVERGLADES! Wake up people! Stop acting like you were inside the outhouse when lightening struck, are now two bricks short of a load and couldn't manage to hit the broad side of a barn! You are choosing to risk "death by gator" every time you step out of your house; and perhaps half the time you are IN your house too, knowing Florida! And while it is fine and dandy to *know* you have to run zig zag to get away from those creatures, if you are 90 years of age, call me crazy but you might be at a slight disadvantage! Unless your neighbor happens to be passing by, in his truck, on the way home from work, with his gun, and sees you BEING EATEN ALIVE!  

Holy sandspur in my flip-flops! If that ain't a bumblebee in my bluejeans sort of day, I don't know what is!

Really. (And they say chickens are close relatives to these monsters....even if it is so, at least chickens don't EAT YOU!)

And then my mom texts me a picture of the headline in the paper....it's fuel for the fire mama. (Didn't nobody ever tell you not to play with that there fire?) But, because I hosted a brunch today that seriously lasted like seven hours (I'm not kidding....the last guest went to college for archeology and I am pretty certain she was digging for the skeletons in my closet....) I didn't reply to the text quickly and so I get this email from her that only slightly hinted of urgency that a hurricane is coming and I had best be going on my way now: Karen, did you get the newspaper article I pictured to you today? About the 90yr old woman, attacked by an alligator, and she lost her leg?

Yes, thank you for that mom, and the nightmares to follow. (I swear I do not know what I did growing up but she is definitely trying to get me back for something!) 

Well, on that note, have a great weekend! Oh, and I know of a little old lady down in Florida who is lucky to have only lost her leg (who is perhaps about to fall off the back edge of yonder) and who might need a prayer or two....hundred. 

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