It was a nice evening with Lynda and Will Murray as we first graced the Corinthian Porch for a drink, then headed to the Boston Yacht Club for dinner. At both stops, I sampled the Dark and Stormies and rated the BYC's far superior.
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Both yacht clubs had better D&S's than the Landing Restaurant however, which advertises a "Best of Boston" for their Dark and Stormies.
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Course, the ones that I make at Beverly Ave. eclipses all of them.
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Bzzzzzzzzz - whack! These skeeters round here are thicker than moss on the north side of the old oak in the center of the Wooly Swamp wherein, as pappy said, we based our operations during the fall of '47. After being rousted unjustly by them townfolk of Cow Nipple, ussins' bushwhacked our way to the center of the Wooly Swamp, to a sandy spit of land we called "The Eagle's Nest". Shoo-Fly loved that name, and zoomed around acting like a bird or prey, which fit well with the task at hand. Oh we had plenty of work to do, what with Daddy always out reconoiterin' in town. Shoo-Fly and me we was the men of the nest, as it were, and made sure momma and little Bitsy had as much cottonmouth and swamp okra as they desired. We branched out into squirrels and sitch after pappy came back from his reconoiterin with a salt peter rifle and a skinnin' knife. Soon, we was doing all kinds of business, and pappa was borrowing alot of crops from kindly neighbors, who had their harvest to pull in and we was not ones to let them struggle on their own. It was a horn of plenty.
Biggest problem was water. Having dug a proper laahtrine with our bair hands, me and Shoo was plenty thirsty, found what looked to be a clear puddle on a small rock formation and drank deeply. It was a good thing we had dug the laahtrine first . . . .
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