Saturday This N’ That

Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

A quiet Saturday here at Port Swiller Manor.  Were things anywhere close to normal, Ol’ Robbo would be packing up the cars today to take Youngest Gel off to college.  However, as we’re still setting our collective hair on fire over teh WuFlu, her move in date has been bumped back a month and she’ll be doing online from home for at least a couple weeks.  (We’ll see what happens then.**)

In the meantime, a few odds and ends:

♦   Obligatory Saturday Garden Posting entry:  For the second time, my mower ran out of gas before I could finish the yard.  I usually have a fairly healthy reserve left over,  but the grass has been very thick and very damp these past two weeks and putting an extra strain on my poor Briggs & Stratton engine.

♦   Additional Obligatory Saturday Garden Posting entry:  As I type this, I count no fewer than seventeen tiger swallowtail butterflies messing about in my garden, plus numerous additional smaller kinds (and I even saw a Monarch the other day).  I also have two hummingbirds feuding over my feeder now.  (I have found them to be extremely territorial and aggressive about it.)

♦   I won’t go into the details because that way madness lies, but I suddenly find myself on the verge of being saddled with a new adopted kitten.  I’ve no objection to kittehs as kittehs, but Decanter Cat has become quite happy as sole Queen of her Domain since we lost her cousin last Christmas, and Decanter Dog has such a neurotic hatred of all other animals, that I fear this will result in far, far more trouble than it could possibly be worth.

♦   Middle Gel went to a local blood drive run by Robbo’s Formerly-Beloved-But-Now-Distant-And-Suspect Nationals today.  I had to laugh a bit when she got home: She just skootched in over the minimum weight requirement and came back looking pretty ghostly.  The Gel was gobsmacked that some of her friends couldn’t understand why she would donate blood.  “Why the heck do they think?” she said.  (She goes back to school Monday, by the bye, and since Mrs. R and I won’t be in Ahia as planned, we’re going down for the day to help her move in.)

♦   Fingers crossed for Eldest, who had a job interview on Friday (I withhold details for now).  I’m resigned to having her home for another year or so but it would be nice if she could chip some coin into the household kitty while she’s here.

Whelp, that’s about it.  Time to go cut up the potatoes for dins (which I roast in chunks with rosemary and olive oil).  I’m doing what the Mothe always called “Pub Chicken”, which is simply chicken breasts coated in breadcrumbs (and spices) and pan-fried in butter.  Add some steamed asparagus, and we’re in business!  And, even though it’s still mid-August, we can comfortably eat out on the porch this evening.

 

** As a matter of fact, as I was telling a friend I ran into this afternoon who is having major angst over her own freshman son, I’m beginning to sense that this nonsense is going to die down sooner rather than later.  The various “stay safe” plans are chaotic and (as will be found out) unworkable; Higher Ed is doomed financially if it doesn’t get butts back on campus; parents and kids are getting more and more fed up; I see almost no sympathy for teachers whinging about not wanting to run the risks of classroom exposure; and, perhaps most importantly, the various governors (including Cuomo and our own despised Northam) are beginning to realize the scare is not going to prove an effective politickal weapon with which to pound OrangeManBad, and that they themselves are increasingly the targets of voter ire.  I could be wrong, of course, but I don’t think I’m that far out.  Again, fingers crossed.