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Well, my fellow port swillers, ol’ Robbo and family are going to take advantage of the Columbus Day weekend to get in a little extra rest and relaxation after the initial hard-charging month of new school and schedules.  Among other things, we’re headed out into the country for a few days to stay with godparents and put in an afternoon messing about at the Belvedere Plantation fall festival.   The gels go for the punkin’s, corn maze and zip lines.  I prefer the piglet races and the punkin’ cannon.

(And speaking of punkin’s, has anybody got a good recipe for frying up the seeds?  Robbo has a hankering to give this a try this year.)

Anyhoo, the point is that I probably won’t be in the neighborhood of a keyboard and intertuub linkie for the next few days.  Have no fear, though, as I’m sure I’ll come back tanned, ready and rested.

In the meantime, as always, feel free to help yourself to more port and carry on discussing anything here that strikes your fancy.  The Stilton is on the sideboard and the walnuts are in the bowl.


UPDATE:  Greetings again, my fellow port swillers!  An unexpected illness in my godparents’ family put the kybosh on our planned overnighter and sent us back to Port Swiller Manor earlier than planned.  Nonetheless, we did make it to the punkin’ festival, where Robbo spent most of his time watching the “chunkin-ator” whipping punkin’s at a bullseye 150 yards or so down range, or alternately lobbing them mortar-like into the field beyond.   What does it say about my state of mind that as I stood there (when not actually goggling at the notion that somebody would take the time, effort and expense to construct a professional-grade air cannon specifically for the purpose of hurling punkin’s),  I couldn’t help imagining myself as an officer overseeing a light battery doing its stuff against oncoming infantry and muttering “We must deprive th’ enemy of th’ high ground”?

The fishing metaphor in the post immediately below brought this front and center:

Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

I must admit to those two or three of you who gather together here from time to time that I’ve really got nothing today.  Isn’t that the crazy thing about writing?  Sometimes one’s braims are positively jumping with ideas like trout during a mayfly hatch and one’s fingers can barely keep up with their leaps.  Other times, they just ain’t biting.  Go figure what the causes might be.

As I noted yesterday, I did not watch the debate last evening but instead popped Sylvester Stallone’s The Expendables into the ol’ DVD player.  Well, all I can say is there went an hour and forty-five minutes of my life I’ll never get back.   What a dog!  Perhaps it was the utter lack of inspiration in what ought to have been an easy format  (action adventure stocked with big-name, wise-cracking  tough guys killing meanies and blowing things up)  that has caused my own creativity to flat-line today.

Regular friends of the decanter will know that ol’ Robbo is something of a Luddite, but I must confess that I love the electronic inter-connectivity provided by the eldest gel’s new high school.   We get emails from each of her classes on an almost real-time basis detailing exactly what she’s done or not done and when, what scores she’s received and how she compares with the spread.  No wiggle room whatsoever, no place to hide, as she’s learning quite quickly.

The difference between the gel’s education and mine is that I was able to slack my way through a crappy high school and didn’t get the wake-up call until college.  I’ve still got the scars.  She’s far better off getting it the first few weeks of 9th grade.

I begin to suspect that the middle gel has a young man.  How do I know?  Because when I refer to him as her “young man” she punches me.   He’s a good kid (they were classmates together at St. Marie of the Blessed Educational Method) and they seem to have a lot of fun going bowling and putt-putt golfing together, so my attitude so far is one of benign amusement.   (Which isn’t to say that I didn’t double check that my horsewhip was well oiled and easily to hand if necessary.)

Despite my plan to exercise more a week or two ago, I’ve been very bad about following through.  It’s especially frustrating because as I drive along the parkway in the morning and evening I see all sorts of joggers out hoofing it and am filled with great resolve.  By the time I get home in the quiet e’enfall, however,  my willpower usually has quite evaporated.  Must fix this somehow.

Well, that’s pretty much it.  As I say, they just ain’t biting today.


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October 2012