A last minute check of the fluids and walk around of the Kia. It's ready to go.

March 19, 2017 - Sunday evening

35 degrees/partly cloudy/calm winds

Pentoga Road

I thought I'd better write tonight, otherwise it could be a day or two before I get the chance.

We just arrived back home from the annual St. Patrick's Day feast at the Catholic church in Iron River.  

Sargie's going through the line. Corned beef, potatoes, cabbage, carrots, and rutabagas were on the menu.

We met Yooper Brother Mark and Sheri. Jerad and Jenna also joined us.

Jerad's in the red cap, Jeanna to his right.

We ate like little piggies and honestly, Sargie and I are both still uncomfortable. At our age, you'd think we'd have enough sense to know when to stop eating, but a great meal like the one tonight only comes along once a year.

Today was a mishmash of activities. I began by cutting the bush that has grown by Brutus's doghouse to ground level. He occasionally wraps his chain around it and Sargie was afraid he do so during the day and be forced to stay out in the weather until she arrived home. 

I played in the shop for a couple of hours this morning trying to turn another Easter egg from birch.

I've come to the conclusion that birch isn't a good wood from which to make eggs. I failed yesterday and today was no better.

The wood was spinning when suddenly, it flew off the lathe directly at me. 

Like it or not, future eggs will be turned from either cherry, maple, or some other hard wood.

I spent time making Sargie's lunches for the next week to ten days. Fourteen peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were assembled and wrapped.

All, except for tomorrow's, were put in zip lock sandwich bags and placed in the freezer. She only has to get one out each morning before she leaves for work. It will be thawed and ready to eat well before lunchtime.

I'm packed and ready and hope to leave around 6:30 in the morning or as soon as it's light enough to see. I should arrive at Mom's sometime late in the afternoon.

Poor Brutus knows something is up. He's stuck to me like a cheap wet t-shirt today. It's going to be a bit lonely for the overgrown puppy this next week or two.

It's time to finish and pack the computer in preparation for tomorrow morning's departure.

After that, I think there might be a bowl of ice cream in my near future before going to bed.

Though nothing came of them, angry looking clouds came blowing through late this afternoon.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Looks like someone got caught with his hand in the cookie jar... or tongs in the corned beef.