Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

For those of you keeping track, Ol’ Robbo is happy to report that he is on the backside of whatever seasonal bug it was Eldest brought home the other day. (Just in time to get my second forced jab this weekend, with God-only-knows what kind of effects. Yee-haw.)

(Speaking of which, thank Heaven Ol’ Robbo has no young kids or grandkids to worry about at the moment. Geesh.)

We had our first nor’easter of the season over the past two days. (I think we get another one on Friday.) Lots of ka-boom! followed later by lots of whoooooosh!! Of course, the show greatly accelerates the leaf-fall already in progress, thereby overwhelming my drains and causing my basement to flood, so as much as I enjoy these storms, they also include lots of grrrrrr!!

I mentioned below that I was binge-reading Charles Portis during my down time. He wrote five novels altogether. Want to know the mark of a good author? I couldn’t tell you which of them is my favorite except to say it’s the one I happen to be reading at the moment.

And I am now definitely on the edge of starting my latest Evelyn Waugh binge, having picked up Decline and Fall last evening. (I do have specific favorites among his works along with some I don’t much like.) UPDATE: Okay, okay. Since you ask, I find Vile Bodies (aka Bright Young Things) to be too relentless in its bleak hammering. And I’ve never cared for Brideshead Revisited’s pure melodrama.

I have been boycotting Major League Baseball this year because it decided to get itself involved in politicks. But I am slightly tempted to watch the Series since the teams playing in it are from Texas and Georgia. Karma can be a beyotch sometimes.

(And no, I never had any interest in the NBA in teh first place, and I haven’t watched pro football since Dan Marino retired. As for the NHL, I grew up in South Texas back when hockey was a foreign country. If Ol’ Robbo ever becomes Emperor, I will decree that it not be played in any city south of Mason-Dixon. Some of the venues these days are beyond ridiculous.)

UPDATE DEUX: I learn that today apparently is National Black Cat Day. Who knew?

Ol’ Robbo has only ever had one black cat, back in the days of my yoot. The Mothe named her Bathsheba, which in retrospect might be in somewhat questionable taste, but we all just called her “Bash” anyway.

Smart cat and friendly up to a clearly-defined point. She once killed a coral snake and brought it to our back door.