According to wikipedia, Durango is the basque word for "water town," which is perfect because I plan to ice after damn near every run with the possibility of noodling for some of the massive trout in the area. This should be a hell of a nice trip and really my only trepidation is that upon returning to Nompton, I will have to readjust to the merciless heat here.
That would be the theme for last night's outing to OKC with der boys. The trend of feeling off continues to overwhelm and I can't help but chalk it up to the "smorgasboard effect." Contemporary wisdom tells us that fusion is all the rage and who am I to blow against the wind? At some point however, I think that can lead to an assemblage frought with gastronomic peril and, worse, something that gives little Scotty D a tummy ache. Cue the scene, we had put down a few stouts and pale ales prior to departure from Stu's. I, of course, was lauded for my incredible driving ability over the perhaps 2 mile route to Cheever's. Upon arrival we ordered a couple bottles of vino and some apps. I think this is where the trouble began. The first combo would be the Malbec/Hummus/Fried Calamari/Pinot combo only to be outdone by the proceeding Merlot/Nacho/Pecan, Chocolate,& Ice Cream Ball conglomeration. Stu knew something was up and opted for a jog back to the house where ...
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