Saturday This n’ That

Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

How in Heaven’s name did it get to be just a week before Christmas already? Ol’ Robbo must motivate himself, especially as we’re entertaining friends to Christmas din-dins this year. Fortunately, my vacay starts on Wednesday so I should have ample time to stock up on the necessaries. (Roast beef and Yorkshire pud, as if you couldn’t guess. I’m also doing Lobster Newburg for those veggie heathens among my little flock.) I believe there will be nine of us this year, so logistics are going to be a challenge.

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All the Gels are safe and sound home from school, now. Middle Gel, the last of them, got in late yesterday although she immediately headed out again this morning to go do a Lessons and Carols service at her old high school choir director’s church out of town. (At least she gets paid for it.) I don’t believe I mentioned it earlier, but the Gel brought her cat home with her as well, which of course immediately caused consternation and uproar among the Port Swiller Manor resident menagerie. Decanter Cat especially is not amused, and has made it plain to Ol’ Robbo that she thinks it’s entirely my fault. So our guest cat is currently enjoying internal exile in Middle Gel’s room. And as far as I’m concerned, she can stay there.

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Speaking of such things, I may have mentioned Youngest getting a gig as a veterinarian’s assistant over the break. She thought she’d just be working the boarding side but they drafted her right into the hospital side, where she’s already seen some operations and (alas) had to help put down several other animals. It doesn’t seem to phase her. She still talks of becoming a vet herself, so I suppose this is a good sign that she’s amenable to the working conditions.

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It’s certainly not a good sign when one’s leaf-blower sets the attached extension cord on fire, is it. But that’s what happened this morning as I worked in the yard. Something shorted between one of the prongs and its socket causing the socket to melt and issue a thick pall of smoke. I’ll certainly need a new cord. I hope I don’t also need a new leaf-blower.

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On a completely different note, yesterday happened to be the anniversary of the birth of Beethoven and the local classickal station went positively bananas over it. Look, Robbo likes Ol’ Ludwig Van well enough, but I don’t worship him. That’s one of the things I despise about Romanticism as a whole, that the artist somehow becomes more important than the art itself. And I just wanted to take the opportunity here, because this is my blog which is mine, of saying that his 9th Symphony – especially the Chorale – is vastly overrated. Again, I think this is a matter of worship: At that point in his career, Beethoven could have written variations on “Chop-Sticks” and it would have brought the house down. And would still do. Hmph.

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And that’s that. Guest Kitteh is now meowing loudly so I suppose I had ought to go visit with her for a bit. Don’t tell Decanter Cat!