You are currently browsing the daily archive for June 6, 2011.

Mr. James Taranto includes in today’s BOTW a linkie to a piece on how cyclers can protect themselves from drivers who want to kill them.

You know what?  You people are bringing this on yourselves.  I have noticed a very marked increase in two-wheeler arrogance on the road this spring.  Especially now that the weather has hotted up, I’m pretty much frazzled by the time I’m on the final leg of my commute home.  Getting stuck behind some jackass who’s fart-assing all over the road is naturally going to awake the sleeping fiend within me.

In this, I know that I’m not alone.  I’ll bet I could make a lot of money selling little bicycle-kill stickers that could be placed on the driver’s side door in imitation of fighter-jocks.

You’d like some advice on self-protection?  As the saying goes, either lead, follow or get the hell out of the way!

At what point does one admit that yes, one really had ought to go to an orthopedist and have one’s knee checked out?

I suppose that it’s at the point where the discomfort gets to be too great to ignore.

I’ve noticed more and more recently that after I sit at my desk for any great length of time, my right knee gets very stiff and sore.  And when I get up, I find myself limping or hobbling for a bit, the ol’ joint crackling and popping like a small ambuscade of musketeers.  The same sort of thing happens on Sundays with all the ups and downs associated with worship.

For now, I suppose I’ll just file this away with the other minor nuisances of no longer being a kid, such as trying to walk down the escalator while wearing bifocals and no longer being able to eat pizza.

Greetings, my fellow port-swillers!

Have you ever had one of those days where you had so much going on that by mid-afternoon the morning seems as if it were attached to a completely different day?  Ol’ Robbo’s weekend was more or less like that.  June is the worst month of the year for parents, what with the overlap between the winding down of school year activities and the start of summah sports.  And somebody still needs to mow the lawn.   So, what with one thing and another, the grey matter is still spinning a bit this morning.

*Remember the new Honda Odyssey I was carrying on about a couple weeks ago?  I haven’t set foot in the thing since we brought it home.   Not because I’m boycotting it or anything, but instead because the parental schedule noted above has invariably involved Self going in one direction and Mrs. Robbo going in another.   In the meantime, Mrs. R has already managed to pick up a flat tire and to ding the rear brakelight backing into a pole.

*The eldest gel managed to get herself into some hot water at St. Rita of the Misunderstood Adolescence.  I won’t go into the details except to note that as an upshot of the episode she was directed and required to read Scott Hahn’s Hail, Holy Queen, which she did from cover to cover in one go and showed every sign of thoroughly understanding and even enjoying.  (And Mrs. R is making noise about possibly reading it herself.)  I don’t think I’m going to get twitted about Mariolatry anymore.  Mysterious ways, indeed.

*This morning I got an invitation from the choir director at RFEC to sing in an afternoon “Friends of Musick 1776” concert the Sunday after the Fourth.  I need to double check my availability, but if I’m free, I think I’ll give it a whirl.  I haven’t sung in a choir since grade-school and it sounds like it might be fun.

*As I was preparing what is known in the Family Robbo as “Daddy’s Special Rosemary Pub Chicken” for dins last evening and idly gazing out the kitchen window, I saw a most interesting sight:  Flitting about the deck was a mockingbird, perfectly formed and plumed but about the size of a goldfinch.   It must have been one of this year’s chicks just now fully fledged, as it was still a bit wayward in its flight patterns.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen one that small before.

*Speaking of birds, there seem to be more bluebirds about the grounds of the Port-Swiller residence this year.  This is a Good Thing.

*I used to think there were Brownies and Girl Scouts, with no other levels of gradation within the system.  What a fool I was. Juniors, cadets, who knows what else.  It is only in the softest voice that the cynic in me asks whether this is a dodge simply to force one to buy more uniforms and accessories.

* If you ask me, Rep. Weiner isn’t being frank.  Thankyew! I’ll be here all week! Try the veal!

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