Look who's officially starting school this year.
It's Hambone.

August 30, 2018 - Thursday

38 degrees/clear skies/calm winds

Pentoga Road

Whew. It appears we dodged the frost bullet last night. I'm happy as can be and still hoping to harvest more melons from the garden. Looking at the long term forecast, we should have at least another week, maybe more of growing season.

Yep, Hambone's officially in school, a real bonafide student. Preschool/Early Childhood is a newer concept since my public school teaching days. Many states have implemented it as part of their regular educational curriculum, a precursor to kindergarten. 

I have mixed feelings about a four-year-old attending school, but with both parents working in most families, it seems to be a viable educational option. Really, Grady's ready to go. Like most four year olds, he soaks up knowledge faster than we can throw it out there. Little Hambone's now officially a student.

I couldn't have fit many more chores into one day as were done on Wednesday. After arriving home from Iron Mountain, I bit the bullet and decided to clean the gas grill.

The thing was sprayed all over with cleaner, the grates removed, the innards scraped, wiped, swiped, hot soapy water used, sprayed some more, and after two hours, I pronounced the job finished.

The spray was really nothing more than an oven cleaner and brought back a lot of memories.

Mom used to tackle our oven once or twice a year before the days of the self cleaning models. She lay newspapers all over the floor, don heavy plastic gloves, ventilate the kitchen as well as possible, and begin spraying.

Dad wasn't spared from helping with the unsavory job. He'd wipe the worst and hand the grates to Mom who'd stand at the kitchen sink and wash each in hot, soapy, water. 

My sister and I were banished to the outside or at least to a room on the other side of the house. What I remember most is the smell, those gawd-awful fumes, but in the end, Mom would once again have a clean oven.

Yesterday's toxic smells were every bit as bad, possibly worse. They also brought another childhood memory, that of Mom giving my sister a permanent. 

I remember Barbara perched on an elevated chair or stool, her hair in tight bobby pins, and Mom dabbing her head with chemicals. The poor girl sat, tensed, her eyes tightly closed, sometimes crying, as Mom reassured her that it didn't burn that bad. 

As a little boy, officially in hiding, but peering from around the corner, I felt sorry that my sister had to endure such torture. Mostly, though, I remember the fumes, the stench, the eye-watering smells.

In retrospect, it's no wonder my sister has pure white hair today, no doubt, caused by being doused with chemicals almost sixty-five years ago. 

Meanwhile, on Pentoga Road:

For the third day in a row, I drove to town on Wednesday. This time, it was for the expressed purpose of visiting a dog at the animal shelter who had earlier attracted my attention.

She's a female, just a few months old, who is a little thing, less than twenty pounds. The shelter says she's mostly a boxer with Heinz 57 thrown in. What she really is is sweet and seemingly very smart. She loves children and has a personality that wants to please. 

Could this be the one? I initially claimed her and if all goes as planned, we'll bring her home next week. I think there's room in our hearts for another four-legged family member.

Yes, I know, she resembles Brutus and no, that's not the reason I like her. She just happens to be white with black polka dots.

Back home, I removed a few of the front step pavers and leveled the sand underneath.

With the recent heavy rains, water had poured from the eaves and washed part of the sand away causing the pavers to become uneven.



I'm going to have to come up with a new base next summer. This is the second or third time I've had to rob Grady's sandbox to supply the filler.

I also installed some new trim pavers across the front of the lower stoop.



Hopefully, these will help keep the sand and gravel from washing out from under the front steps.

Next came scraping and painting the garage service door and trim, also the trim around the overhead garage door.

Even in it's heyday, long before I bought our home, the service door was a used castoff from another project. It's not in very good condition, but should suffice until it is replaced next summer.

Always a project. They never end.

I tried scraping the old paint, but that would take hours. Why not use the high pressure washer?



In the end, both the trim around the overhead door and the service entrance and surrounding trim sported a new coat of white paint. 

Golly, Tom, what else could be crammed into one day? Why not prepare the drive to be sealed?

Out came the leaf blower to remove the worst of the debris, followed by the high pressure washer.



Another two hours went by and the shadows were long before the hose and washer were put away.



The drive is ready. The only thing needed is the warm sun forecast for later today.

Sargie was home mid evening and we enjoyed a nice evening watching America's Got Talent on DVR. She's off today, works tomorrow, then will be off for the Labor Day weekend.

I'm going to get this uploaded then begin to drag the five gallon pails of sealer from the barn so they can warm up in the sun. I wish it were thirty degrees warmer, but beggars can't be choosers.

It's time to rock and roll.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

My token bunch of grapes, literally ONE bunch, are almost ready.