January 3, 2013 – Thursday

15 degrees/cloudy

Pentoga Road

I can’t find my camera. I used it inside last night, so I know it’s close by. Grrr.

Ouch! I think my left-hand pointer finger is infected. I sliced it the other night while cleaning fish and now it’s a bit swollen, ugly, and red. Oh well, now it matches the rest of my body.

Speaking of swollen, if I don’t quit eating, I’ll soon look like Marshmallow Man, the giant ball of fluff that starred on the original Ghost Busters movie. It’s cold, it’s dark, and this time of the year, eating can be so much fun and comforting… and what’s so bad is, there’s really nothing I need to be comforted about. I have a really good life. Well, that is, up until Tuesday morning.

I thought when one retired, each day was supposed to be picture perfect. I thought wrong.

After Sargie left for work Tuesday morning, I donned my heavies, packed the sled, and headed to the lake. I slogged through the snow a quarter mile onto the ice. The sled was unpacked and I grabbed hold of the rope pull for the gas ice auger with which to drill a hole.

One pull, two pulls… and the rope broke. There was nothing to do but pack everything back into the sled, hoof the quarter mile back to the shore, load the SUV, and come home. Tommy P wasn’t in the best of moods.

I drove to town and left the auger at Jim’s, our local small engine mechanic. Driving past Barber Bob’s, I saw there was someone in the chair so I went onto our large hardware store in search of a hand auger.

I brought one to the counter. The lady scanned the code and told me I owed $119. My jaw dropped a few feet. In the end, I left the auger in the store and walked away wondering how I would drill holes for the next week.

Barber Bob’s was the next stop. He was sitting in the chair dozing. Barber Bob’s my kind of guy. We talked and gabbed, got caught up on all the news, solved most the world’s problems, and he empathized while I poured out my auger woes. I left an hour later with my hair shorn and once again looking somewhat respectable.

On a whim, I stopped at our little hardware store in town. They had one auger left, a smaller one, on sale for $35. Finally, luck was on my side.

I arrived home and was exhausted. It must have been a more stressful morning than I thought. The fire was rekindled and I remember thinking I’d sit in my recliner for just a couple of minutes. The phone awakened me almost an hour later.

I finally went fishing late Tuesday afternoon and caught a decent mess of bluegills and one crappie. My new hand auger worked well and I’ll keep it as an insurance policy against future mechanical breakdowns.

Sargie arrived home bearing a pizza. Later, I rolled out some left over pie dough, sprinkled it with cinnamon and sugar and marshmallows, and put it in the oven to bake. I’m not sure what one calls the concoction, but Mom used to make it when we were kids and Pam did the same when the boys were little. It was as enjoyable last night as I remember it being throughout the years.

Sargie’s off today. I’m going fishing at first light and hope to be home by mid morning. I promised my girl a meal of fresh bluegill for supper. The pressure is on, the stress, the need to keep my word. It’s tough, but a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

Now where is that camera?