Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Mrs. Robbo and I were sitting over a kaffeh this morning and reviewing the past week, as is our wont, when we suddenly realized:  It’s been pretty durn good.  No crises, no fights, no drama, and everyone seemed to have good news of one sort or another.  (Needless to say, these discussions are dominated largely, almost exclusively, by the topic of teh Gels.)

The klaxons will probably start sounding the alarum again over one damned thing or another as soon as I post this, but it was lovely for both of us just to sit back and savor the moment.  And in that spirit, some gratuitous Dad posting for you:

+Teh Eldest Gel:  Regular friends of the decanter will know that ol’ Robbo hasn’t posted much about teh Eldest here over the last few years.  Suffice to say that she and Adolescence didn’t get on very well with each other and we had an awful lot of stuff to get through, none of which would be suitable for discussion here.  However, now that she’s on the backside of it, and especially this spring, we are seeing what we believe to be a genuine blooming.  She’s paying attention in school, developing her game plan for college and just generally beginning to enjoy life.

Anyhoo, yesterday she was bearding me about politicks, which has become one of her favorite topics.  Specifically, she was lamenting the fact that she didn’t get to grow up in the Reagan Era like I did (although I pointed out that I was only a year younger than her when we got rid of Jimmah and brought in the Gipper), and wondering what is going to happen in ’16.  As she talked, it occurred to me again that this isn’t just academic:  She’ll be old enough to vote then and, buh-lieve me, she has every intention of exercising her franchise.   It also occurred to me that she doesn’t really have a “thing” yet, and that maybe she’d be interested in doing some campaign work – stuffing envelopes and whatnot.   (She’s announced that she’s a Randian, by the bye. (As in Paul, not Ayn.)  I think she looks up his speeches on YouToob.   Apart from giving my stock reservation about apples and trees and the dangers of neo-isolationism, I’m not going to quibble with her at this point.  She absolutely loathes She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and identity politicks in general, so I know that I’ve done my job well enough.)

+Teh Middle Gel:  Last evening, teh Middle Gel attended her 8th Grade class “Morp”.  “Morp” is “Prom” backwards- what used to be called Sadie Hawkins- and is the Big Event of the social year at her school.  I had been a bit uneasy ahead of time because she generally doesn’t like this sort of thing and I didn’t want her to come home feeling flat after all the build-up.

Well, I needn’t have worried.   As teh Gel almost invariably dresses casually, comfortably and modestly for school, nobody there ever really associates here with fashion despite the fact that she is really very pretty.  However, she put on the dog for this dance, and my spies tell me that there were some bulging eyes and dropping jaws, and even a number of the Beautiful People complimented her in surprise about her appearance.  (I didn’t see her myself because she got dressed at a friend’s and I had dozed off by the time she got home, but I got a preview last week so I can imagine what was going through their heads.)   I know she had a lot of fun dancing and chatting and whatnot, but I also suspect she got as much amusement out of spiking these people as anything else.

*Teh Youngest Gel:  Yesterday saw teh Youngest give her final appearance down the Folger Theatre as a member of St. Marie of the Blesséd Educational Method’s troupe of actors.  This year, her class did a stripped-down version of Shakespeare’s Comedy of Errors,  teh Gel playing the role of Angelo (or in this case, Angela) the Goldsmith.  (Curiously enough, I was cast for this same part in my first venture into theatre – I was a sophomore in high school, I think.  The play never came off for some reason or another, but still.)

The gel has a perfectly round head, enormous blue eyes and a small nose, the result being that her facial expressions are clearly visible when she’s up on stage.  Couple that with a lively personality, seemingly infinite lung capacity and a voice that can penetrate like a steam-whistle, and you’ve got acting gold.  (Gold, Jerry!)  I can very much see her pursuing an interest in theatre as she moves up to middle school and beyond.  Indeed, again looking back to my own high school days, she would have fit right in with the Drama Geek crowd at my old school, around the periphery of which I used to loiter.

Musing on her performance, it occurred to me to wonder about the origin of the expression “to ham it up” on stage.  This site gives the following explanation:  “1880–85; short for hamfatter, after The Hamfat Man, a black minstrel song celebrating an awkward man.”  Anybody know if this is true?  And are we even allowed to say such things anymore?  (I also looked up the lyrics to that song.  I sure as hell am not reposting them!)

Well, that’s it for now.

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