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Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Well, here we are, once more on the brink of Lent. Personally, Ol’ Robbo prefers the years when the Easter cycle starts early. Here in the mid-Atlantic, a few weeks one way or the other this time of year can make all the difference weather-wise and I’ve always found it far more suitable to start in on Lenten reflections and exercises when it’s cold and nasty outside than when Spring is about to pounce.

And speaking of which, I don’t plan on standing away completely from the blogs this year, although I probably won’t post as much and I haven’t decided just yet the sort of material with which to bore you. We shall just have to wait and see.

On a different note, Ol’ Robbo fixed himself*** a baked BBQ bacon and chicken dins last evening. This would be otherwise unremarkable except for the fact that I tried a homemade BBQ sauce for the very first time. I pulled the recipe at random off the Innerwebz and am here to tell you that just because something has a lot of stars next to it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s all that good. This was far too sweet and had a lingering, unpleasant aftertaste that is still lurking at the back of my mouth this morning. Still, it was fun to make and arguably much healthier than the stuff you get in a bottle, and Ol’ Robbo gives himself some credit for at least trying.

That said, if any friend of the decanter can point me to a better recipe, I’d appreciate it.

***Just for himself. Mrs. R is a veggie and Eldest has a strict policy of not sharing in my first attempts at new dishes.

Speaking of Eldest, she got into a mind-scrambling rant last evening about time-travel in films. Specifically, she insisted that there is no logical way Kyle Reece could have been John Connor’s original father. She was also on about the problematic relationship of the 1985 Doc Brown to the 1955 Doc Brown, and furthermore was highly critical of a story arc that starts with the Doc lecturing Marty McFly about the dangers of mucking around with the timeline, yet ends with the Doc sporting all over the place in a flying train time machine. And people accuse me of being a nerd? Don’t ask me to explain all her arguments. And apparently, “Well, it’s only a movie” is not a sufficient rebuttal. Also, when I tagged her with the notion of Philip J. Fry becoming his own grandfather she refused to see a problem, so I think there are some biases at work here.


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February 2021