Christmas must be close... Sargie began wrapping presents on Sunday evening

December 9, 2013 – Monday morning

6 degrees/breezy/cloudy

Pentoga Road

I felt sorry for Sargie this morning. She doesn’t like cold and dark Monday mornings. I can relate.

I’m always the first out of bed, rising anywhere between 4 and 6 AM. After getting the fire going, coffee made, doing correspondence, and often writing the log, I awaken her, usually around 6, so she can begin her workday. My girl lay in the dark this morning, the bedroom chilly, looking up at the ceiling in an attempt to gather the energy to emerge from between the warm sheets.

I am but a mere link in a long line of Monday-hating Pennington’s. Grandpa used some rather expressive language to express his dislike for the beginning of the workweek. Dad was adamant about his absolute hatred of Monday’s; so much so, that he began crossing the remaining Mondays off a calendar a year ahead while conducting his countdown to retirement.

And in true Pennington tradition, I too hated the beginning of the workweek. I well recall lying in bed on any given Monday morning and mentally calculating how many days remained until the next weekend.

So it was with no small amount of empathy that I awakened Sargie this morning. Dad used to say that we had to have Mondays so that we might truly enjoy Fridays. Sure, Dad. That’s like saying we have to occasionally stub a toe, really ram one into a table leg while walking barefooted, so we can enjoy those times when our tootsies don’t hurt at all. Yeah, I get it… I think.

Sunday was a back to normal-type day. Macrea and Mel were on their way back to Marquette shortly after 8 AM. I worked on assignments while Sargie went through her usual morning routine.

I worked hard coaching the Packers to a slim victory. With the Lions losing and knowing the Bears and Lions both have difficult schedules lying ahead, our chances of making the playoffs have significantly increased. It’s going to be a race to the finish line this year.

Sargie set up a table in the living room yesterday on which to wrap Christmas presents while worked on the rest of my ice fishing equipment. I sorted, discarded, changed line, reels, and otherwise made all the fishing paraphernalia ready for another season.

Other than the ice auger and shelter, this is the sum total of my ice fishing equipment. Most fits in a plastic ice cream container.

Sargie brought out rolls and rolls of wrapping paper and bags of bows and tape. The living room soon resembled Santa’s Workshop and we enjoyed the late afternoon and evening together. She wrapped; I kept her company. After this past week, it was good to be together in the quiet of the early winter evening, the woodstove blazing, the dog asleep at her feet.

Though the forecast is for cold temperatures (a high of ten above zero) coupled with strong winds, up to twenty mph, I’m hoping to do a bit of ice fishing today. Tomorrow’s forecast is for even colder temperatures and worse conditions, but hey, I’m the guy who poo poo’s and scoffs at some of these fair-weather dandies featured on any number of the current Alaska adventure shows. I’m going fishing today. After all I have a reputation to protect.

Sargie closes this evening. It's going to be a long day for her. On my side of life, there is news to listen to, more coffee to sip, deep thoughts to think, assignments to grade, a five-mile walk to take, heavy ice fishing clothes to bring out of summer storage, fish to catch, and the mandatory grandpa nap to take.

If only you had my life. But then I’m not surprised. After all, we all know a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

Unless he can help me tie on the very small lures I use, Brutus won't be going fishing. Shut in a small ice fishing shelter with a bulldog isn't my idea of fun.