I know a little girl, Isabella, who is happy that Santa is coming!

December 17, 2015 - Thursday
25 degrees/snow flurries/windy
Pentoga Road

I received a text from Andy last night saying they were at the hospital. Jess's water had broken, but otherwise, there were no imminent signs that our newest grandbaby, Ivy, was ready to exit mommy and begin life. He said they were keeping Jess in the hospital and if things don't begin to happen, the doctor will induce labor sometime today. 

Page Two

What is this? I made the mistake of researching alpacas yesterday and this morning, when I booted my computer, the first thing I saw was an ad for a stuffed alpaca. I don't want a stuffed animal, I want a real one.

Sargie and I have been thinking of acquiring a mini-horse, but they are a herd animal, happiest when a companion is present in their company. Two mini-horses? Sure, why not, but as long as we're going the cute factor, why not throw in an alpaca? It seems as people get one or two, they have them for a while, then everyone tires of them and sells them (at a loss) to others who think they are cute and cuddly... and the cycle goes on and on.

Supposedly, alpacas are good watch dogs, 'er animals, should a coyote or wolf be present. They aren't going to do anything other than whistle, aka Elmo Tanner in Heartaches, but it's worth reading about and I seriously doubt an alpaca is in our future... or a miniature horse. (Just a side note: I'd be willing to bet there are very few who know who Elmo Tanner was. Here, treat yourself. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LoTcgryE74Y. Elmo enters about halfway through.)

Anyway, the moral of the story is: be careful when googling alpacas. You might just wake up one morning to find an ad for a stuffed one on your computer and you'll be forced to listen to the Ted Weems Orchestra featuring Elmo Tanner whistling Heartaches.

Page Three

Wednesday was a snowy/blowy/rainy affair. I clicked off my usual three miles, changed shoes, and went to town. I wanted ham and bean soup. No I didn't want it, I craved it, to the point of wondering if I could possibly be pregnant. That darn Sargie, she's a crafty one. 

The trip to town was dicey. I was caught in a sudden snow storm and couldn't see the road. There was nothing to do but pull over and wait for a vehicle to come along and go around me, then follow that. By the time I got to town, the squall had passed and all was well.



The grocery had ham on sale for $1.49 a pound. Close enough. I paid for a good looking hunk of pork, stopped to visit with Yooper Brother Mark on the way home, and was soon back on Pentoga Road.

The big pot was taken out of the bottom cabinet as I had a two-pound package of navy beans. In they went, followed by the ham bone with big old chunks of ham, a handful of dried carrots, and finally, numerous ingredients much too secret to reveal to the public at large. Needless to say, after simmering for six or eight hours yesterday, the house smelled good enough to eat, let alone the contents in the pot.



With the soup simmering, several hours were spent with Brutus deep in the woods. We fought the wind and rain and snow and made our way close to a mile into the forest, deep enough that I wasn't sure where we were. After arriving, I turned to my knuckle-headed canine companion and told him I hoped he knew where we were, I didn't, kissed him on his nose, and said, "Home Brutus."

And... we're off

He didn't let me down. Other than stopping to occasionally lift his leg, we spent the next hour winding through the trees, wading through swamps, and tripping over fallen limbs, but in the end, Brutus brought me to the back yard. He was rewarded with hugs, a dog yummy, and a piece of slimy ham fat. Doesn't get any better than that.

He's not allowed down the basement, so Brutus waits at the entrance for me to come back 

Late afternoon found me pushing the vacuum sweeper around the floors, picking up bits of wrapping paper, fire wood, and whatever else has landed on our rugs and floors. After, I lay on the floor facing up and attempted to do some stretching exercises. Brutus had other thoughts as he walked over and plunked his fat head onto my belly. I awakened half an hour later from my nap, my arms wrapped around his head, feeling bull dog drool dripping through my t-shirt and onto my bare belly. Such are the rewards one gives for a successful guided trip out of the wintry wilds of the Upper Peninsula.

Page Four

I made corn bread to go along with our bean soup using my special holiday recipe that includes cranberries and maple syrup. I'm going to brag, it was good. No, it was darn good. I wonder if my cooking idol, Paula Deen, needs an assistant? I could be available, well, if I'm not googling alpacas or listening to Elmo Tanner.

Sargie arrived home and we spent the evening stuffing our faces, gabbing, and later, she wrapped more presents.



I'm going to walk this morning then hope to spend the rest of the day in the shop. No doubt, Brutus and I will work on his road training. At some point next week, we're going into town to train around people. Brutus is going big time.

Sargie opens again today. I'm going to get this uploaded then text Andy and see when Ivy is expected to make her grand entrance.

Meanwhile, it's time to fix breakfast and get the day going. After all, a man's work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...