Uncle Bert, Eileen, Robb, and Stef

December 20, 2016 - Tuesday

15 degrees/partly cloudy/windy

Pentoga Road

Eileen and Uncle Bert are visiting their daughter, Stefanie, and her husband, Robb, who live on the East Coast. I taught with Bert and Eileen for years and their daughter, Stef, was a student of mine from junior high until she graduated. Good folks!

It's fully thirty degrees warmer this morning than twenty four hours ago. I don't believe anyone is sad to see the cold weather exit, even if it is temporary. There are gale warnings posted with gusts to howl up to forty mph. So much for lying out on the back deck and working on my tan lines.

I see several mentions of the possibility of a mega winter storm beginning on Christmas Day with snow and freezing rain. Hopefully, that will miss us.

Monday was errand day on Pentoga Road. Honestly, I didn't take too many pictures and those I did were of a... squash. No, not action shots of a growing squash, creaking and groaning in an effort double its size during a warm summer night, but rather of one sitting on the kitchen counter.

Fifty pounds of Hubbard squash

There's a story behind it, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Sargie left for work midmorning, so Mom and I hopped in the car and headed to town to run some errands. 

We stopped at the license bureau where I registered the Tundra snowmobile. For the first time in many many years, I'm the owner of a legally registered snow sled. There was no need to register my snowmobile in the arctic wilds of Alaska and the old machines I've owned in Michigan never went off my property. 

In essence, it appears I've turned over a new leaf and am living on the right side of the law.

We left the license bureau and traveled to the Verizon store where I took advantage of a sale on new iPhone 7's. My old phone only had 8 gigs of hard drive and most of that was consumed by the various apps. I'm now running with 32 gigs under the hood, four on the floor, a four barrel carb, chrome reverse, and of course, the mandatory Purple Burpy muffler underneath to let people know I'm in the neighborhood. No wonder everybody wants to be me.

It was from there to the Post Office, onto the gas station, and finally to Gloria's for bait. 

Not once did my camera come out of my pocket, thus, the action shot of the squash. I had to take a picture of something yesterday. 

I noticed while in the basement that a couple of my giant squash are beginning to go bad, a common occurrence when the starch turns to sugar and decay sets in.

There was nothing to do but butcher the thing before it went bad, bake the pieces, and put them in the freezer. I've slaughtered hogs that were less work.

The problem is, what does one do with thirty pounds of very sweet squash meat? 

I guess some could have been cured and made into squash bacon or squash ham. Smoked squash? Hmm, how about squash Spam. Then there's squash ribs, steaks, and loins. Squashhead cheese. So many choices, so little time.

In the end, I called sister-in-law, Holly, and she agreed to take a large bag of skinned and cleaned squash hunks off my hands. She can distribute any she doesn't want and hopefully, everyone will have all their winter squash dreams fulfilled.

As a side note, a sampling confirmed that the Hubbard is one of the sweetest in the winter squash family. No brown sugar needed, only a bit of butter and a dash of salt.

I did a couple of loads of laundry Monday afternoon, ran the vacuum over the floors, and brought in today's supply of fire wood.

Mom and I spent the evening watching television. We especially enjoyed the classic, A Christmas Carol, that wasn't over until 11 PM, way past our bedtime.

Sargie opens the Vision Center today. I have some outdoor chores to take care of and would like to begin getting my ice fishing gear ready for another season of use. I had originally hoped to get out onto the ice today, but with heavy winds, there's no way that's going to happen.

It's time to wake Sargie and get this show on the road.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

A large hairy woodpecker working over the old apple tree