February 22, 2015 - Sunday morning
-22/clear/calm
Pentoga Road

I was up early this morning throwing wood in the stove and intended to go back to bed for another hour or two of snuggling and dozing. Unfortunately, that didn't happen. The wood I'm currently burning was cut late last fall. Though it is from a dead tree, it contains a bit of moisture from last summer's rains. The stuff burns, it's just not overly hot, the type I like on these bitterly cold days. One bin is empty in the double wood shed with another still completely full, but I thought I'd use some of this harder wood in this cold weather. It appears I'll be going back to the softer type, that hauled from Yooper Brother Mark's plant while this frigid weather remains. It burns faster, but much hotter.

I've been shopping for barn paint. While in Iron Mountain yesterday, I stopped at Home Depot and priced five gallons of their flat red barn paint. The only problem is that it's not rated for steel siding. I've read accounts online where it supposedly works, but there's no mention of that on the label. 

Menards has red barn paint for metal and wood, but it's a pure oil base and is high gloss. I'm not so sure I want a glowing red building. I'm fearful it would end up looking more like a house of ill repute than a barn. 

Do I roll and brush the paint on or do I attempt spraying? I don't own a sprayer, don't know how to work one,  and I've heard horror stories of people who have good intentions, just like me, who've made a mess out of a project by attempting to use a sprayer. Being of the conservative nature, I imagine I'll use a roller and brush, take my time, and hope for the best. 

At any rate, I hope painting the barn will be my first warm-weather project of the spring. Anything to cover that awful powder-blue color should be an improvement.



When purchased, the house was blue with white trim and the bright red roof. With Uncle Terry's help, we changed that a couple of years ago to its current gray, a color we still love. When I asked the original owners why they painted the house blue, the reply was they needed something to match the barn. I always thought it's usually the other way around. I'm a patriot and love my country, but I don't want to live in an American flag. 

It's been suggested that I paint the barn gray to match the house. I doubt that will happen. I like red barns. Somewhere in the writings of early barn chronology, I'm sure it's stated that all barns, wood or steel, should be painted barn red; at the very least, white. It's the way I roll.

After arriving home Saturday morning from Iron Mountain, I washed the bedding and did some other house work. Sargie's worked such long hours this week that I didn't want her to worry about household chores on her one day off.

This week's assignments are beginning to filter in and I spent time reading and grading those. The university capped this semester's class at twenty students and I'm enjoying the reprieve. In fact, with the Mac being overhauled, it's worked out well, almost one of those God things. I can't imagine actually using my eyes to read assignments from an additional twenty or thirty students. I imagine this coming summer session will be full to overflowing since there were well over twenty students waiting to get into the class who didn't make it this spring. 

Much of the afternoon was spent outside plowing the drive, putting a few things away in the barn, and playing with Brutus. He seems to be much like I am, tired of being cooped up. The pup has only two speeds during these cold months. When outside, he's damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. Inside the house, he's barely more than a bulldog rug. In fact, if he didn't snore and occasionally toot from the other end, one would wonder if he's still breathing. 



Vince sent an email yesterday saying my computer is being shipped on Monday. I feel like a little boy counting down the days until Christmas. With a new solid state hard drive, 8 GB of memory, and whatever else had to be done, I'm ready to install a seat belt on my recliner so the machine doesn't blow me out backwards. Vince said from start up to actual working time takes fifteen seconds.

I can hardly wait for Karen, my sizzling digitized Australian voice, to read to me. With an Aussie accent accompanied by breathy pauses, assignments will once again become, at the very least, more interesting to grade.

Ah, to train the new Mac in all the verbal commands, to take dictation, and write and send emails by voice. As I said, I'm excited. Thanks, Vince.

And the pictures... one of the reasons I carry a camera with me at all times is so that I can unload all and see them UP CLOSE and clearly on the computer screen. More times than not, I enjoy the photos of earlier happenings more than I did while the event was happening. In fact, I've not even down loaded those from our recent trip to Nevada. When I get the Mac, I'll enjoy the trip all over again. I hope you will too.

Sargie was home early last night and we enjoyed a wonderful pot pie she made from the left over pot roast, vegetables, and gravy. You know it's good; there was only one piece left from a full-sized pie. Thankfully, there's another one that I'm certain we'll demolish in the near future.

Last evening was spent snuggling in my over-sized recliner, the blanket over both of us, watching television. Sargie's worked such long and late hours this week that we've barely seen each other. The closeness was wonderful and I noticed more than once that Sargie was watching television behind closed eyes.

My girl's off today. With the frigid temperatures and stiff wind, I'm fairly certain that other than our usual Sunday afternoon ride into town, we'll remain on the inside looking out. I'm going to continue to grade papers and there's a good chance a Grandpa nap might be on the agenda for later.

It's time to throw another log on the fire... if I can get the bulldog out of the way. He seems to be guarding the stove pretty closely these days, making sure no one sneaks in and steals it.

Time to get busy. After all, a man's work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...