And speaking of boiled peanuts, I rashly insisted that no boiled peanuts were to be found south of Tampa, Fla., and promised to dance the chicken dance if I was wrong. Well, halfway down the Keys, I had to pony up. I should have inserted and adjective: No DECENT boiled peanuts. I had to throw the bastards out.
fair warning: on block island or manhattan or in missouri, we can be a little salty
3 comments:
flap them wings baby! sorry to miss you in nyc but you must be on your way again...you do a mean chichen dance honey!
Too bad you can't hear me clucking.
Oh you can hear it. Nice touch.
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