Friday saw a visit to Barber Bob for a haircut

March 1, 2014 – Saturday

-7 degrees/clear/calm

Pentoga Road

Friday was a transition day. I put away the seed catalogues that have surrounded my chair to make room for the new indoor portable greenhouse. It will sit by the middle, south-facing window, just two or three feet from my recliner.

The transition started when the Russian tomato seeds I’d ordered arrived in yesterday’s mail. One variety is pear-shaped, although not a pear-type of meat tomato, and grows on bushes that are a mere 12 inches high. They are to be of decent mini-size, very sweet, and cover the entire bush.

The second variety remains pure green, even after the fruit ripens, is also a very sweet tomato, yet is a long keeping variety… supposedly staying good in the basement until the holiday season.

When I read that I’d get five seeds of one variety, ten of another, I discovered they weren’t lying. That’s exactly what was sent and I’ll have to make the most with the few I have. Unlike last year, there’s no room for any mistakes.

Thankfully, both varieties are old heirloom Russian tomatoes and I can save the seeds should I want to plant them in the future.

I just happened to think… I could be the UP’s outlet for Russian varieties, control all the Russian tomatoes in the area, and make millions.

That’s probably not going to happen. Knowing my luck, I’d be visited by a crazed Russian horticultural mafia hit man named Dimitri. No doubt, he’d threaten to pull my plants, scatter weed seed in the beds, or even worse, leave the door of the greenhouse open on a cold night.

So much for becoming the Upper Peninsula’s Russian tomato baron.

Page Two

I cranked up a very hesitant Blazer in preparation for a drive to town. Since the SUV has sat in the barn and hasn’t been started in a week or more, it made lots of moaning and creaking noises and I’m fairly certain it called me all sorts of inappropriate names. Chugging along at a hair-splitting thirty miles per hour, we made it to town in good shape.

It was time to visit one of my favorite people, Barber Bob. Bob and I have pretty much the same dialogue every time I visit. He tells me stories of days gone by and I tell him about a certain time in Alaska when…  The identical tales are repeated as they have been all the times before and though I can’t see his eyes, I know a much younger Barber Bob is suddenly transported to a wild frontier where there are no barbershops and one lives by his outdoor skills and wits.

I spent quite a bit of time in the chair yesterday; not because I had so much hair to cut, but because Bob’s daughter called from Oregon, something she does daily just because she can. I’ve found that regardless how busy my barber might be, there’s no hesitation to stop cutting hair and spend more than a few minutes talking with his daughter. Customers will just have to wait while Bob conduct’s more important business. A daddy’s love for his baby girl, even if she is just a few years younger than I am, is alive and well in small town America.

I was playing with my camera while Bob was on the phone. Ships, lighthouses, and logging chains hanging from the ceiling. The perfect man decor.

I stopped by the plant to check on Brother Yooper Mark. The boy works so hard that I’m fearful someday, he’ll turn into a pat of melted butter. I caught him on the production floor and we spent half an hour talking and gabbing. Mark and Sheri are heading to Green Bay this weekend to take part in a bowling tournament.

Page Three

My computer has been running slower and slower. Over two hours were spent transferring several gigabytes of pictures, several more of movies, graphics, and text, onto an external hard drive. The Mac has gained a second life and seems to be back up to speed.

I’ve been putting off gathering all the papers in preparation for filing 2013’s taxes. Though they are kept in one specific place, preparing for one’s taxes is about as much fun as enduring a root canal. In fact, the root canal might be preferable.

The papers were placed in a folder and set on the dining room table. All I needed to do was call the preparer and make an appointment.

I started to think… hmm, I could utilize one of those free tax sites, plug in a few numbers and get an idea of what kind of return I might expect. 

And so the roller coaster began.

The first time I entered the numbers, it appeared as though a few thousand dollars might be coming back my way. I was ecstatic. Oh my God, who cares about an interest free loan for a backhoe. I’d have enough money to pay cash!

Mama has always said that if something appears too good to be true, it probably is. I filled in the blanks again just to be sure.

That one resulted with me owing several hundred dollars to the State of Michigan and barely be even with the Feds. I pictured the backhoe digging itself out of my future.

Depressed, I decided to pull out the big guns, the magnifiers. I quickly discovered that many of the 3s were actually 8s, the 2s were 5s, and 0s, 8s, and 6’s were freely interchanged. In one blank, I’d even entered the letter “l” rather than the number 1. Whoever heard of having L exemptions?

With my eyes red and tired, to the point of tears running down my cheeks, I put all the tax papers back in the envelop, placed them on the dining room table, and will call to make an appointment with the tax preparer on Monday. Stay tuned, I might have that backhoe paid for… or I could be standing out alongside Pentoga Road selling pencils to the two neighbors who pass by daily so we might afford a few crusts of bread to go along with our water.

Page Four

What to have for supper? Who says summer’s not here? Sargie was home early and to celebrate the beginning of her vacation, I grilled pork loins outside accompanied with baked potatoes, and a garden salad. Chocolate pudding topped with whipped cream and caramel sauce completed dessert. For an hour last night, we had a taste of summer though the thermometer showed the temperature was well below zero.

Today. I’m not at all sure what today will bring. The next nine days belong to Sargie. The girl is officially on vacation and other than doing my university work, I have no plans. I think we’re going to Marquette on Sunday to visit Cale, Macrea, and Mel. Rhinelander might be in the offing for early next week and a swing through central Wisconsin appears to be on the horizon.

 All, I really know for certain is that my coffee cup is empty. Time to pry myself from the chair for a refill.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road… 

It took longer to get to the grill than it did to cook the pork loins.