Third generation Pennington for the old Tundra. I originally purchased the snowmobile in the ninties, my first good sled. When I moved to Alaska, I passed it on to Luke and now, it appears Coleman is taking over the controls.

December 16, 2013 – Monday

-21 degrees/clear/calm

Pentoga Road

Earlier, I accused Sargie of slipping a sleeping pill into her glass of water from which I took a swallow during the night. I was up at 3 AM to put wood in the stove, went back to bed, read for a few minutes, then I was out like a light. When the alarm rang at 6 AM, I could barely open my eyes. That’s unlike me.

Maybe it’s our balmy morning temperature. It was -21, but has warmed way up to the current -20. Time to break out the swim trunks and beach towels.

There’s not a lot to talk about concerning Sunday’s activities. Once again, the wind howled and the temperature never broke the single digits. I went outside long enough to carry in wood, and Brutus and I played fetch for half an hour. A walk was made up to Neighbor Mike’s. He and his friend, Terry, were leaving early to head back to Marquette. After attempting to hunt deer using black powder rifles, they gave up, saying it was simply too bitterly cold. Mike’s an old, tried and true, Yooper. When he says it’s too cold to put meat on the table… well, that must mean it’s cold.

Why do I get up early to add wood to the fire? You'll notice the inside temperature is a rather balmy 57 degrees.

I read some final projects that continued to trickle in and spent late Sunday afternoon coaching the Packers to a come from behind victory. At one point during the first half, I actually switched the channel to a PBS station and watched twenty minutes of Lawrence Welk reruns. Unable to stay away for long, I was back just in time to see Eddy Lacey’s long run at the first part of the second half. After that, I was hooked right up to the end of the game.

The boys in green and gold made one of the biggest second half comebacks in franchise history with a one point victory over the Dallas Cowboys. Lambeau Field will be a crazy place next Sunday when Andy, Yooper Brother Mark, and I, are personally there to help the other 79,997 fans coach the Packers to victory over the Pittsburg Steelers. The Fox Network will be carrying the game if you want to see us. No doubt, we'll be the only ones dressed in heavy ice fishing clothes covered in Packer’s green and gold. It’s how we watch cold-weather football in Title Town.

Sargie was home fairly yearly last night after working at the Vision Center then having a hair appointment after. Once again, she’s purtified herself for the Christmas holidays. (I’m currently looking into a patent for my own professorial word, “purtified,” which means, “… to become purty and beautifuler.”)

The clicker on my MacBook Pro’s mouse pad has worn out. I guess at some juncture, I’m going to have to send it to a Mac repair place and have it worked on. It’s not a fatal flaw (I’m using the machine to write this) but sure is annoying. Oh well, after years of snowmobiles, boats, and bush planes in the bush of Alaska; all while being used heavily on a daily basis, I can’t complain. This computer has been fairly bombproof.

Sargie works early today and hopefully, will be home early tonight. She’s off tomorrow and I’m relatively certain she’ll be finishing her wrapping and we’ll be cleaning the house in preparation for Mom’s Wednesday arrival with Andy to follow on Friday.

I received this picture of great niece, Brielle, taken at the Dixon Christmas party on Sunday. That's quite the mustache of Oreo Fluff making her look like a Mexican bandit from the old westerns.

I’m going to finish grading today and this evening, then will spend the next couple of days averaging and entering the final grades for the semester. If it warms to the predicted 21 ABOVE zero this afternoon, I might try to go fishing. I’ve promised Mom a fish fry while she’s here and I don’t want her going back to Indiana saying her little boy failed to put meat on the table.

It’s stressful, but then, that’s how my life goes. Meanwhile, I probably should pour another cup of coffee and think deep thoughts that include forming a game plan for a successful afternoon fishing excursion; the one that may or may not might happen, depending if I wake up from my Grandpa Nap in time.

After all, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…