With rosy cheeks, a big smile, and huge dimples, grandson, Cody, is sporting his new glasses.

April 4, 2016 - Monday

19 degrees/cloudy/calm winds

Pentoga Road

That's one thing I passed on to future generations... big ol' dimples.

Luke sent this picture yesterday with the caption, "A much younger Grandpa with Coleman."

I hated my dimples when I was young. Every elementary teacher seemed compelled to occasionally squeeze my cheeks and Mrs. McDonald, my first grade teacher, used to tell me my dimples were where the angels kissed me while I was sleeping. Mrs. Hildebrand, my third grade teacher, conducted mock searches for jelly beans in each, and in Grade Five, Mrs. Langley teased me of having Volkswagen Beetles carefully tucked away in the holes in my face. 

Once, about to get my fanny paddled, I reminded Dad that angels kissed my cheeks. I tried hard to make a case that anyone who was so lucky to be kissed by heavenly beings certainly didn't deserve a spanking. 

I don't need to tell you how that went. Seems Dad didn't buy into Mrs. McDonald's line. 

I grew to appreciate dimples during my dating years. I didn't realize that three extra holes in one's head (I have a double dimple on one side) might actually be an asset. 

In my fatherhood years, I managed to pick the poorest school districts in which to teach and dimples weren't thought of one way or the other. I was too busy working umpteen jobs trying to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads.

And now, in my Grandpa years? The dimples are deeper than ever, but are becoming part of the many wrinkles that make up my face. As long as Sargie likes the way I look, it makes no difference to me. I just hope a passing angel doesn't fall into one and break her leg.

One thing is certain. It's nice to have passed those big holes in my cheeks onto my sons and they in turn, onto their children. I'll rest easy in my twilight years knowing that there are angels kissing all my grandbabies each and every night. Some just leave signs. We call them dimples.

Page Two:

Mississippi Brother Garry sent me a million dollar picture. Seems Jody and Garry's daughter, Kari, accompanied her son, Nolan, to Disney World on a youth outing. I know Nolan returned home in good shape, but I'm not so sure about Kari. This picture tells it all.

Page Three:

Sunday was pretty much a non day on Pentoga Road. The three to five inches of snow that was forecast fell. Sargie worked from noon to five and later, I drove to Iron Mountain so we could ride home together. I need to get some lumber from Home Depot to begin construction on the arch that will be placed at the entrance to the garden, so I thought I might as well keep Sargie company during her drive to and from work.

I'll be riding to Iron Mountain with Sargie this morning, doing my shopping, then I hope to spend the rest of the day in the shop. There are several projects on the agenda and I want to take advantage of the cold and snowy weather to work inside. 

It's time the tomatoes and peppers get planted in the indoor greenhouses. That will be done sometime this week.

Once it warms up just a bit, I hope to start construction on some rabbit hutches. More than the meat, I need the fertilizer for the garden. I'm thinking of a design similar to the one below.

It's time to throw another log on the fire and listen to some news. Deep thoughts? I've got a few... too few to mention.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...