Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Ol’ Robbo is going to pack it in here for the Triduum, but before I go I just wanted to mark down the fact that last evening we had just about the nicest family dins either Mrs. R or I can remember in a very long time.

It was a lovely, lovely spring day in these parts yesterday and, in keeping with our habit of doing so whenever we are able to, we had said dins out on the porch.

We had just learned that one of my Godparents’ grandsons is going to be a classmate of Youngest Gel this fall.  (As an aside, the kid is extremely good looking and comes from a rock-ribbed conservative background.  Youngest doesn’t really know him except by way of some Instagram connection, but we’ve assured her it’s perfectly fine to reach out at this point and say hey.  It is at times such as these that Ol’ Robbo’s thoughts turn to the merits of arranged marriages.)

Anyhoo, based on this nooz the conversation naturally swung toward college life and what Youngest could expect in the fall.  And it was so very nice to sit back and listen to her elders giving advice, recalling anecdotes of their own experiences, and generally being Big Sisters.  It was perhaps even nicer that Youngest didn’t balk, but instead listened thoughtfully and asked questions.  No snark.  No cat-fighting.  No one-upmanship.  Heck, I didn’t even get the impression that anyone was bored.

I dunno what was in the air, but I wish I could bottle it.  If nothing else comes out of this whole wretched (and increasingly phony) coronapalooza panic, at least we had that.

Whelp, as I say, I’ll be out the next few days trying to salvage Easter as best I can.  I’ll see you all on the other side.