It was just a bit foggy on the way to Florence Wednesday morning.

April 18, 2019 - Thursday morning

36 degrees/cloudy/calm winds

Pentoga Road

"The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry...."

Seems that's what happens more often than not on Pentoga Road. I'd just finished uploading yesterday's writings when the phone rang.

Uh huh, it was my buddy, Principal Neil. Seems they needed a PE teacher for the morning.

Lest you think I was a miserable sub driving to Bobkittyland, I wasn't. Kickball was played in the upper grades, Doghouse Tag for the little ones. The old professor may not have enjoyed his walk yesterday, but he certainly got his exercise. 

I met Sargie on my way home from Florence as she drove to Iron Mountain. We had a quick rendezvous in inner city Alpha and shared a passionate, quick-peck, kiss and talked about what to have for supper. It's a wild life Sargie and I lead, meeting in clandestine places like the hood.

Back home, the wood box was filled just as the rain began to fall. Since I had to assemble and glue the St. Bernard, I decided to bring him in and work at the dining room table.

It took a while, but by afternoon's end (that included a nap by the wood stove as the rain pounded on the metal roof overhead) the pup was finished.

I did a St. Bernard because of one I once met. Albert was my sister and brother-in-law's pet. I only knew him briefly, but he was a great companion. The pup made such an impact on me that I decided to resurrect Albert, at least in some fashion.

There's a problem. What does one do with a growing pack of dogs? We need more wall space, another room. 

Yeah, well, that ain't gonna happen anytime soon.

I give away 99% of everything I make, but I have difficulty parting with my homemade pups. I think it's because I have hours of cutting, carving, shaping, painting, and mounting each. This sounds strange, but when I place the last dot of white onto the pupils of their eyes, each takes on a personality of his own.

I'm amazed that a piece of scrap pine can eventually be made into something that ought to be able to bark, wag its tail, and lick my face. 

I know, I'm out there a bit, but it's the way I feel. Hey, I was born a musician. We're supposed to be out there.

I like my dogs. Now all I have to do if figure out what to do with them.

Rain rain rain rain... wish I had the rain gauge up for the year. I'd bet money that well over an inch fell during the night, probably closer to two or three. 

With our bedroom window wide open, the wind and rain acted in tandem like a well tuned symphony as we slumbered through the night.

The symphony thing might sound grand and romantic, but dang, Lake Pentoga's creeping closer and closer to the garden and back yard.

At least most of the snow is gone, so assuming the forecast is correct and it quits raining, the garden should remain high and dry.

Sargie arrived home from the funeral and we made a quick dash to town to purchase ingredients for her super duper soup that is one of our favorites.  It's a low carbohydrate mixture that tastes very similar to chili, but replaces kidney beans with French cut green beans, bean sprouts, and water chestnuts along with tomato juice and well drained hamburger. It was the perfect kitchen magic for a chilly, rainy, night.

Today, what's on the agenda for today?

Well, first of all, I'm going to strap on my hikers and stroll a quick five miles. The snow's not the only thing disappearing, so's my belly. I told Sargie the other day that it's time to regain my summer weight that features a muscular, cut, trim, body, along with well defined tan lines.

Yeah, I get about as cut and trim as the Pillsbury Dough Boy, but I usually end up with a decent farmer's tan.

I think I'll move the goldfish out of the basement to the garden pond today. They're looking a bit sick and it's time they go outside. It'll be at least two to three weeks before I can begin digging the new garden pond, so they might as well spend their time in the old one for now. 



Once I begin digging, they'll have to go back into a fifty gallon tote and kept under the apple tree until I'm finished.


It must be spring. I noticed the rhubarb is beginning to poke from under the ground. Mmm, could a rhubarb/strawberry pie be in the making? 

Patience, Tom. Patience.

It's time to get walking. This ugly winter fat around my belly ain't gonna go away by itself.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Talk about not very bright... while working on the the dog yesterday, I somehow managed to glue my wedding band and finger together. Sargie thought it was hilarious.