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Greetings, my fellow port-swillers!  Robbo has returned from his hols in Maine, tanned, ready and rested.

There are many people who believe that vacations should be spent in “doing things”.  I am not such a one.  Therefore, the vast majority of the past week was spent by me loafing on the cottage deck with a beverage close at hand (cuppa chai or adult, depending on the time of day),  doing nothing much a-tall except staring idly out to sea, tossing acorns into a citranell candle bucket and gossiping with the Mater.  (Hearfelt thanks go to Mrs. Robbo for getting the gels out of the way so that I could do so.  Fortunately, she is one of those people who does believe in doing things on vacation.) 

This isn’t to say that I did absolutley nothing.  We went into Portland a couple times, once to take in a Sea Dawgs game, the other to have dinner at a hippie pizza place down by the ferry terminal.   We also celebrated the christening of my latest niece and spent an afternoon infesting my sistah’s house.  But apart from that?  Not much.  (Among other things, I never got around to cracking any of the books I took with me, including Master and Commander, so those of you Russell Crowe-as-Jack Aubrey fans awaiting your spanking are going to have to wait a bit longer.  I will only say here to Kathy the Cake-Eater that yes, I can very much see The Duke cracking the joke about the lesser of two weavils.)

 Of course, having been out of circulation for a while, it’s going to take me a bit of time to get back into the swing of things and catch up.   I see from a quick dekko that my in-box has almost as much spam as my yard does crabgrass, so perhaps that is where I need to start.

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