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Greetings, my fellow port-swillers! I hope your Christmas continues to be merry.  A word of advice about today’s seven swans a-swimming:  The bathtub probably just won’t do.  Also, swans are even more bad-tempered than geese.  Bigger, too.  Good luck!

My sneaking suspicion that Mrs. Robbo was planning to turn what I hoped would be a quiet New Year’s Eve spent with just our oldest friends into a full-blown party has turned out to be completely justified, as Mrs. R has finally unmasked her batteries.  All day she has been saying things like, “Oops! I forgot to tell you that the So-and-So’s are stopping by, too” to the point where I have lost count.  And although she tries to soften the blow by promising that this or that attendee is “only staying for one drink,” it has become perfectly plain to me that I am going to be forced to….entertain.   

Geh.  I’d better go take a nap.

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