Granddaughter, Emerson, singing Frere Jacques in French. Em's mommy, Jessica, is French and bilingual. Unfortunately, it appears Emerson has the same abilities for singing in French as her daddy and grandpa.

November 9, 2015 - Monday

32 degrees/clear skies/calm winds

Pentoga Road

It's another beautiful day dawning outside my window this morning. Highs are forecast to reach into the mid fifties with light winds and plentiful sunshine. It doesn't get any better than this.

One of our local lakes. Taken during Sunday afternoon's drive.

Sunday began with working out in the shop. I cut a few more letters out of pine. All will need to be sanded before painting and mounting them on the sign.

I watched the first half of the Packers game. Whew... it wasn't pretty. We took our usual drive immediately after and arrived home in time to see the end of the game. The boys are going to have to shape up or it'll be a long off-season ahead.

With Sargie's help, we moved the rest of the root crop vegetables, geraniums, and other plants, down the basement to overwinter. Everything is put away and we're ready for whatever the next few months have in store.

We've got a pesky mouse down the basement that seems impervious to conventional traps so, following Yooper Brother Mark's instructions, I made a newer version of the "Bucket of Death." This one involves putting slits into a mounted paper grocery sack and baiting the ends with peanut butter. The mouse skidaddles up a ramp, onto the paper, and falls through the slits into the the water below, there to meet his demise.

We had a quiet evening last night munching popcorn and watching television. I think all the fresh air of the day might have done us in as the tv was turned off at 9 and after doing our usual nightly before-bed activities, climbed the steps. Neither of us seemed to have difficulty sleeping.

Sargie closes tonight. I'm going to play in the shop or outside all day. I want to take the backhoe out of the barn and put the tractor in. There are still a couple of posts to be replaced on the deer fence, one last hard wood tree to be cut and worked up, and of course, the sign to work on. So much to do, so little of me.

But then as everyone knows, a man's work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...