Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

After the trials and tribulations of double birthday sleepover parties last week, Mrs. Robbo and Self yesterday took off for Richmond, Virginny, there to meet up with the Former Llama Military Correspondent and Mrs. LMC, who were coming from the opposite direction.

All on our own.  No kids.  Woo Hoo!!

In the afternoon, while the Missuses (or is the Missii?) went shopping, the LMC and I hung about in the hotel bar dissecting the world’s woes and making the barkeep a happy fellah.  (We stayed in a Marriott that caters to the biznay crowd, so is usually mostly dead on Sundays.  We had the place to ourselves.)  When our wives were done bankrupting us for the moment, we sauntered over to a steakhouse where Robbo was treated to the best durn ribeye he’s had in a long time.  (Hondo’s, in Glen Allen, if you want to know.)

Then we sauntered staggered back to the hotel bar and made the barkeep even happier.

Apart from getting far from the madding crowd, this was all by way of celebrating ol’ Robbo’s upcoming 50th.  I was reluctant to go at first, mostly because I detest the drive down I-95, but in the end I’m glad I was cajoled into it.  A very good time was had by all.

The added bonus was that when we returned to Port Swiller Manor this morning, we found it still standing without yellow police tape all over the place, and all personnel present and accounted for.  (Yes, we had a friend stay over just to keep an eye on the place.  While I generally trust teh gels not to do damn-fool things, I don’t trust them quite that much.  And I don’t trust the big bad world out there at all.)

And now?  Back to the salt mines……

 

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