We are frequent visitors of Cracker Barrel. We know it's not the most healthy fare available. We. Can't. Stop. They don't have them in Washington. People of Washington, we are missing out.
Here's Mark at Cracker Barrel. This was Sunday night. He still has his church shirt on (unbuttoned) and he's wearing the hat my mom made him. Notice the peg game. We are getting good at the peg game.
That's what happens when you go to Cracker Barrel. A lot.
In addition to risking our lives with copious amounts of comfort food from Cracker Barrel, we lived dangerously by driving on Interstate 70 from St. Louis to Kansas City. Is there some unwritten law in Missouri that says you have to drive like a maniac on Interstate 70? (I'm a little sensitive about laws in different states. I don't want another ticket.)
We stayed the night in Independence, MO.
|Braeden, contemplative at Liberty Jail|
It was a nice day though hot. Our ice cream cones practically melted before we could eat them.
It's a tough life, this vacation stuff.
Kansas City is a beautiful city.
Also, a very serious city:
Also, a very hot city. (Oh, did I mention that?)
Horace tried to cool off in one of the many fountains.
But we didn't let him.
Everyone knows that goats rust.
(Metal goats do, at least.)