Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Whelp, Youngest started her senior year of high school today.

Mrs. R had to flag her down in the driveway because she’d forgotten to take a fistful of forms with her.

It was only after she’d beetled off that we discovered she’d also forgotten her wallet.

I hope this isn’t some kind of omen…..

UPDATE:  First Day in the can.  Just from conversations I’ve had with her in the past day or two, the Gel is already developing the thousand yard stare: She’s quite done with the “high school experience”, is not much interested in all the senior year hoopla, and can’t wait to clear out and head for college.  I couldn’t tell you how much of this might be attributable to the fact that she’s got two sisters blazing the trail in front of her, how much is her general disdain for teenage immaturity, and how much is pure wanderlust looking for a new adventure.  (She was telling me this evening about a group of her classmates who decorated their cars with “Seniors ’20” type slogans for the occasion.  She didn’t think much of them.)  Perhaps it’s some combination of them all, perhaps there are other elements, too.

And speaking of which, poor Mrs. Robbo seems to be experiencing what one might call anticipatory empty-nest syndrome.  It has been noted that lately she is turning up her long-distance fussing over the Elder Gels and her in-person fussing over the Youngest to eleven.  (Fortunately, they all seem to understand and to take it in stride tolerantly.)  I have to believe that this is probably more of a Mom Thing than a Dad Thing, since I certainly am sobered by their growing up and moving out but I find myself far more excited/concerned about the future than about the past.

As for that need for nurture?  Well, that’s why we have Decanter Dog.

(Yes, you may hiss at me.)