It started with a hand. Or in this case, a trunk and a hand.
The truth of my tendency to emasculate has, alas, been unmasked. Read on.
I could just title this DAMN I Love My Readers.
An isolated town grows and grows and explodes and becomes a party town/ex-pat haven. Where does one go to "get away from it all" any more?
Hell, folks. "Ya'll" can wallow in age-hate. I'm gonna eat that shit for breakfast.