Wearing Pawpaw's shop apron, Hambone drilled his first ever hole using the drill press on Saturday afternoon. He's broken into the big time.

March 24, 2019 - Sunday morning

37 degrees/clear skies/windy

Pentoga Road

Doggone it anyway. It's 2 AM and I'm wide awake. My allergies were bothering me and not wanting to wake Sargie, I decided to spare her the cacophony of my sniffling and sneezing. After making the long and lonely walk down the stairs, I gulped two allergy pills then figured I might as well throw a log on the fire and heat up a cup of yesterday's leftover coffee. 

So, here I am. I'll write for a bit and go crawl back into bed once my sinuses dry up and I can sleep.

I don't know how Hambone and I could cram anymore into one day than we did on Saturday. Since it was chilly early, down to 12 degrees, we decided to make beignets, a fried bread served by the Cafe du Monde in the French Quarter of New Orleans.

Of course I had plenty of help.

We had a lesson on measuring and Chef Hambone was very careful to pour exactly two cups of the mix.

Not allowed near the stove and hot oil, the assistant chef was happy to be my righthand man, stirring and mixing.

 In the end, we made a dozen almost-perfect sugary pastries.

We walked up to see Jambo while Grandma Sargie took her shower and prepared for work.

There's not a better combination of friendship in the world than a boy and a dog and Quincy loves Grady.

And of course, there was Grady's best big buddy, Neighbor Mike. 

While Mike and I talked, Germaine and Hambone sat at the table and read an I Spy book. We all had a great visit.

Jambo later stopped by on his four-wheeler. 

Grady rode back to Jambo's camp, then ran home. Mike watched him from the top and I stood at the bottom of the lane by the road waiting. Hambone ran the entire way. 

It was just a good day to be a four year old boy with not a care in the world.

I've been wanting to dig out the old Ford tractor  and get a head start on its yearly maintenance. Earlier this winter, the tractor was completely covered. Though the snow's gone down, we still had plenty to shovel.

It took quite a while, but we were finally able to get to the old beast. 

Would it start? The engine hadn't turned over since last October. After charging the 6 volt battery for half an hour, I climbed aboard, pulled the choke, pushed the starter, and smiled as, just like it's owner, the old tractor snorted to life for yet another year.

I've mentioned before that after looking up the serial number on the Ford, I discovered the tractor and I are the exact same age, right down to the month and year. We're both a little slower than we once were, getting creaky here and there, but like a good Timex watch, we take a licking and keep on ticking.

The tractor was left to idle a few minutes before we took a ride. 

I was impressed. While sitting on my lap, Grady steered the tractor up and down Mike's lane then back across the road and up to the barn without my hand on the steering wheel.

Give the boy another few years and a few more feet of growth and he'll be driving the Ford all by himself.

We decided to take a snowmobile ride. Zipping along, we came across a large dead spruce that had fallen across the middle trail this past winter.

There was nothing to do but turn around and get the chainsaw. Though he offered his assistance, poor Hambone had to sit on the snowmobile and watch while Pawpaw cut the tree into moveable lengths.

Like most boys, Grady is fascinated by the shop, the machinery, and loves to look around. I've connected many of the machines to central kill switches should any little curious hands ever randomly reach up and try to turn one on. 

Better safe than sorry.

But yesterday, it was time Hambone made his mark in the shop. There was a cold glue gun and a package of pop cycle sticks for just this occasion.

His first introduction to a real machine was the drill press. Standing on a chair with Pawpaw holding the pop cycle stick, Grady drilled a small hole through one end, later to become part of a snowflake.

Proud? No sixteen year old has ever beamed more after earning his driver's license. 

It was time to paint his snowflakes. Changing from the shop apron into one of Pawpaw's old shirts and donning a pair of latex gloves, Hambone began.

Since I was sawing elsewhere and wearing a dust mask, Grady decided he should wear one.

The mask just wouldn't cooperate. The artist decided that wearing it on his head might work better.

It was mid afternoon and we'd not had lunch. While taking our break, Yooper Brother Mark and Sheri stopped by. They'd been snowshoeing nearby and dropped in for a visit.

Finished eating, Hambone grabbed a blanket and pillow and quickly fell asleep on the floor. All the fresh air and sunshine had worn the little guy out. He slept for almost two hours.

It had been a great day and with Grandma Sargie working late, Grady and I decided that we'd earned a boy's night out on the town. Our destination was that wild and swinging place, Mr. T's Family Restaurant in Iron River.


What could be better while waiting? Crayons in one hand, a glass of chocolate milk in the other... life is good!



Back home, we didn't bother to turn on the television, opting to play two hours of math games before Grandma Sargie walked in the door. 

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end. We're to meet Macrea and Mel later this morning for the Hambone exchange. Life will suddenly become much quieter and slower on Pentoga Road. I think Grandma Sargie and I will take our time coming home and enjoy a nice drive around the countryside. 

The allergy pills seem to be working and my sinuses are finally drying up. I should think about climbing the stairs and see if I can get a few more hours of sleep before the day begins anew.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...