September 30, 2019 

We got a call yesterday afternoon from my sister, Barb, saying Mom is going to have surgery. Initially, it was to happen Sunday evening, but for whatever reason, it's been delayed until today.

Mom's running a temperature and has an infection in her mid region that has spread to her back and legs. An aneurysm was also discovered and that needs to be repaired.

I'm asking for your prayers for Mom. She's a tough lady, the toughest I know. She's also tired, very weak, and 92 years old.

I'll update this as time goes along. For now, we're in central Illinois heading to Terre Haute, Indiana. 

After reading thousands of Tales from Pentoga, today, I'm asking you give back in the form of prayers for Mom.

Thank you.

On the beach in Delaware

September 28, 2019 - Saturday morning

48 degrees/clearing skies/calm winds

Pentoga Road

Norienne and Jim sent the above picture taken on the East Coast recently. Friday was their anniversary and they opted to spend it on the beach, enjoying nature's beauty.

Thanks for the pictures and congratulations, you two!

I believe that's a horseshoe crab.
(We don't have many in the UP.)

Ah, this week's been full of thrills and spills in Bobkitty Land. Old Mr. P thought he might be able to begin to pull the flaps and lower the landing gear for next week's graceful exit, but there were a few bobkitties that had other plans.

There was a parade of mini munchkins marching through my office at one time or the other. As my good friend, Kermit, (my principal and fellow camp owner of many many years ago) used to say, "I spend 95% of my time working with 5% of the students." 

Kermit was spot on, only I'd say 98% of my time has been spent with 2% of the students. 

I'm going to brag on the parents and/or guardians of those Bobkitties with whom I've spent time. ALL, without fail, have been positive and even grateful when we are forced to have that conversation. There's been no anger, much concern, and lots of gratitude for the phone call or meeting. 

It says a lot about the parents of my babies. It tells me that though we may occasionally disagree, we're all playing on the same team with the same goal in mind, the well being of their child. 

I got a call the other day from the K4 (Early Childhood) teacher asking for assistance. She's a wonderful educator, but a rookie. As luck would have it, there are three or four boys in her class that just turned four in August and are very immature. Simply put, they are still babies.

It was after lunch, Mr. P had had a trying morning, and I was in no mood to cajole two four year olds to sleep. 

Hmm, nice guy or mean guy? Perhaps the good cop/bad cop thing would work.

In the end, I knelt down and gathering both rug rats in my arms, asked them to do me a favor. Since this grandpa was sooooo old and soooo tired, would they each take a nap for me so I could finish out the day?

The little guys nodded their heads up and down.

Oh, to be asked to take a nap for Mr. P! It was a responsibility not to be taken lightly.

Each lay down on his cot and within seconds, were sound asleep.

We've not been without our antics in the front office this past week. It's been chilly, sometimes cold. Since the central heat has yet to be turned on, a few of the classrooms and office are a bit nippy. 

One of our frozen sixth grade teachers, Kim, came to the office and found that our school secretary, Holly, had a small electric space heater churning away under her desk.

What? Holly was hoarding the only heat source in the entire building while everyone else froze? How insensitive can anyone be?

Suddenly, Kim sprinted around the counter, fell to the floor, and snuggled next to the space heater. 

Golly we laughed. 

Kim is a master teacher of over twenty-five years, one of the best educators I've ever worked with. Who says education has to be all work and no play, even for teachers!

Sargie was busy this past week. She had an appointment earlier in Iron Mountain and was able to pick Hambone up from school and spend time with him and Daddy.

Sargie and sister, Nancy, went to Escanaba later in the week for a girl's day. Sargie said she had so much fun shopping and spending time with Nancy. She also brought me home a dinner plate-sized sweet roll. Cutting it into sections, I've enjoyed parts of it each morning for breakfast.

Mom is still in the hospital recovering. Her heart and organs are strong, but she's having difficulty healing from her recent procedures. 

We talk to Mom each and every day. Her hope is that she'll be able to leave the hospital in the next few days and spend time in the local rehab center regaining her strength so that she can eventually return to her apartment.

Sargie and I will be traveling to Indiana to visit Mom for a few days in a couple of weeks.

Andy returned from Africa a couple of days ago. He's been off the coast of Equitorial Guinea moving huge oil rigs. After a well deserved rest, my youngest son will be leaving for some far off distant continent. I've heard places like Tobago and Australia mentioned. 

The garden is wrapping up for the year. I picked a large load of spaghetti and oversized zucchini squash to take to Yooper Brother Mark and Sheri. Another load is picked and ready to give to Sasha and Alex.

Sargie and I don't care for spaghetti squash. I just enjoy growing them to give away.

I've been working on a load of firewood each night this past week. Hopefully, I'll finish this trailer full today and tow it back to the plant to be filled again. I'm thinking three more loads should give us what we need for the winter with a month's emergency supply left over.

We enjoyed a wonderful fish fry last night with Mark and Sheri. Macrea was in town on business and was able to join us. As Christmas letters so often state, "A good time was had by all."

I'm going to head outside and try to finish working up that trailer of wood this morning. Later, Sargie and I will make our way to the Rhinelander to purchase the siding for the garden shed. I think we're going to go with the imitation cedar shake panels.

It's costs almost twice as much as some of the more conventional siding, but since we've already spent close to the national debt on the pond and garden house, why scrimp now? 

There's a fall festival in Iron River later today and I hear Macrea and Grady may be driving over to attend the festivities. 

I may let Grandma Sargie go with them while I stay at home for some R&R. Pawpaw's tired. Oh well, just one more week, a mere five school days, and I'll be handing the reins of Bobkitty Land over to someone else. Other than going in on the following Monday to introduce the new dean, my tenure as captain of the good ship, Bobkitty, will be over.

I imagine I'll be writing tomorrow morning. I've missed snapping pictures and penning my early morning missives. It's time to get life back to normal on Pentoga Road.

Until then, I'd better get to work. There's firewood to work up and siding to buy.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Sunrise on my way to Florence this past week

September 22, 2019 - Sunday morning

69 degrees/hazy/Calm winds

Pentoga Road

Boy, it's muggy this morning. I don't mind the warm early morning temperatures, but don't like the humidity. Seems the slightest movement causes a person to break out in a sweat. Oh well, I see the forecast highs in another week are in the 50's and below. We'll take what warmth there is, humidity and all.

I didn't think I'd be writing so soon, but I'd taken several pictures yesterday (and before) and figured while I had the time, why not? As someone commented yesterday, it's like I'm writing a daily letter to a friend. Maybe that's it. 

A person can never have too many friends.

I was out the door early and though my intentions were to spend the morning in the shop, I knew with Hambone here, I wouldn't accomplish very much. The boy was happily watching early morning cartoons and sipping a long, cool, glass of milk, so I sneaked out the door and cut a large black ash tree further back on the property. It had become infected with the emerald ash borer and has stood dead for over a year. Though I hated to lose the tree, it'll make great fire wood.

The giant had barely crashed to the ground when my shadow, The Bone, came screaming out the back door, ready for a morning of action.

Donning a second set of ear protectors, just like Pawpaw, he served as tractor and bucket boy throughout the morning, raising and lowering the arms on the old Ford 8N that held the trunk or large branches of the downed tree.

What? I SAID I CAN'T HEAR YOU, PAWPAW!

 I sawed and cut and every now and then, would signal Grady to raise or lower the bucket so the blade of the power saw wouldn't hit the ground. In the end, we'd cut several nice loads of firewood.

Our umpteenth load was delivered to the barn when Grady said he thought it might be better if we used the four wheeler.

Well of course it would be. Everyone knows that a four wheeler is much speedier than an ancient 67 year old tractor and MUCH more fun to drive! We put the tractor away and started the ATV. Though it took multiple trips, it was more fun.



Hambone's daddy and mommy wanted to spend some time with him this weekend, so we met them halfway to Iron Mountain for the exchange. Poor Grady didn't want to go home and why would he? After all, we were doing all those things that boys and grandpa's love doing together, riding the tractor and ATV while talking along the way. Plus, working the bucket on the tractor and steering the four wheeler is something only big boys can do and yesterday morning, Hambone reminded me more than once that he was, indeed, a big boy.

Sargie and I took our usual afternoon drive. We'd just gone by the animal shelter when Sargie commented she'd seen a goat in the yard.

A goat? 

I poo poo'd the thought and kept driving, but after some discussion, turned around and sure enough, there was a big, old, Billy goat in a grassy enclosure.



Seeing me get out of the car and approach the fence, Billy trotted towards me, bleating a fond greeting.

Poor thing. I'm guessing he was someone's pet and left intact, probably grew a bit too rambunctious. 

The old boy sure craved company.

I tried to leave several times, but each time I'd step away, he'd bleat. I told Sargie that if the Hundred Acre Woods (the old popple woods behind the back yard) was securely fenced, I'd adopt Billy. 

But then I was reminded why the goat was probably surrendered to the animal shelter. After becoming best amigos and having multiple goat to man conversations, he decided to rear up on his hind legs and butt the fence in a final farewell.

I gave Billy one last scratch behind his ears and walked back to the car. The last we heard, he was bleating his goodbyes.

Sargie helped to finish splitting the firewood late in the afternoon. There wasn't much and it felt good to have a sixty-five year old tree cut, worked up, and put away in one day. 

We headed to the pond and garden. The grapes, those growing on the trellis, are absolutely delicious and sweet.

We ate grapes for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Some fruits are just too good not to eat.

Skimming the leaves from the pond has become a daily chore, one that I enjoy. The water's not as clear now as earlier, mostly from leaves that have been missed, fallen to the bottom, and are decaying. 

I know that at some point, the pond will reach a natural balance, especially after live plants take hold in the underwater gravel filter areas, but as our friend, Cosmos, the expert pond builder, said, it takes a while. Until then, we'll help nature all we can in keeping the water clean.

Sargie and I are going to meet Principal Neil and his wife, Terry, today for a mid morning breakfast in Florence. They'll be driving up from downstate Wisconsin to check on their home up here.

Later today, well, who knows? The Packers play the Broncos and there are numerous chores that can and should be done. 

Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if I fall asleep on the couch while watching the game; you know, mental preparation for another week in Bobkitty Land.

I doubt I'll be writing for a few days. On the other hand, who knows? Stay tuned.

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



So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Miss Jody sent the following video taken at their home in southern Mississippi. Our hummingbirds left a couple of weeks ago and I told Garry and Jody we were sending them their way. Looks as though they arrived.

September 21, 2019 - Saturday morning
64 degrees/cloudy skies/breezy
Pentoga Road

*Cough* "... whew, it's dusty in here," said Tom, as he blew two weeks of inactivity off the shelves of blogdom. 

I think this has been the longest I've been absent from writing in the past fifteen or twenty years. 

It felt good. I've been so darn busy that not being obligated to publish something was a relief. This blog thing's supposed to be a release valve, a hobby, therapy to keep me between the lines, not a chore. 

Still, I'd be less than honest if I didn't admit I've missed it. After pouring my insides out for the world to see for decades, it's seemed strange to pull a veil over the goldfish bowl in which we live. 

Ah, what's been happening? SCHOOL SCHOOL SCHOOL. I've not had time for anything other than school. It consumes my thoughts from 4:30 in the morning until I literally crawl into bed at night. The Bobkitties have kept me busy.

I've enjoyed my tenure as the Dean of Students, my official title. I simply refer to my current vocation as The Kindergarten Cop.

Other than possessing near perfect bodies, it seems Awnuld and I have something in common. I get to police the munchkins of Bobkitty Land.

My coworker, Vanessa, is the official principal and does the paper and brainwork of the operation. Me? I'm the strong arm of the law. 

I love my munchkins, every one of them, and stick my head in each classroom to tell them that at some point every day. 

Unfortunately, I've been reminded that a dark side can lurk behind a few of those beautiful happy faces. It's a dark side filled with abuse, drugs, and neglect. 

I'm amazed how resilient young children can be, how some can come to school and seem so happy and normal, yet return to a dark hell hole they call home.  

Once or twice these past weeks I've been forced to step to the edge and look down into that hole and admittedly, shed more than a few tears in private. 

It hurts. It hurts bad to see my babies hurting, especially when all I can do is to love and protect them at school before seeing them off at the end of the day.

I remain convinced that God didn't make bad children. Its the big people that seem to get it all wrong.

But, good, bad, or ugly, my babies are my babies and I love each and every one of them, even when we're both having bad days. 

I collect loves and hugs on a daily basis, get to hear fantastic stories of dinosaurs and super heroes, and on any given day, my pants have had multiple noses wiped across their surface, a gift from three foot tall munchkins giving big, sincere, nose wiping hugs.

I've been living the dream.

As with all good things in life, my tenure as the Kindergarten Cop is winding down. My replacement is due to begin on October 7th, a mere two weeks in the future. What began as a two to three week interim position will have lasted for six and I'm happy to relinquish the reins of deanship to another. It won't be long and this Pawpaw will return to being the occasional sub, filling in where needed once or twice a week.

I'm looking forward to going back to being the grandpa with the banjo who teaches and listens to stories of dinosaurs and super heroes. It's time to let someone else be the strong arm of the law in Bobkitty Land. 

Page Two

Mom's been in and out of the hospital these past couple of weeks. After experiencing some heaviness in her chest, two stints were installed around her heart. The stints worked, but she experienced heavy bleeding after which caused another hospital stay. 

Mom was home for two days before she had an incident on Friday morning that caused her to be taken back to the hospital with a high fever. A blood culture found she has an infection and is currently receiving some strong antibiotics via IV. Hopefully Mom will be able to come home early this coming week. My sister told me last night that Mom was doing well, sitting up in bed enjoying a grilled cheese sandwich along with a strawberry smoothie. 

I'm also told that Mom knows each and every nurse's name and holds social court at every opportunity. The girl's a social butterfly.

Let's see, not much has happened on Pentoga Road. In fact, NOTHING'S happened other than living day to day life. By the time I get home, I'm too tired to pick up a hammer, work up wood, or play in the shop.

Shop? SHOP? Do I still have a shop? Lord Almighty, it's been weeks since I even set foot out there. I hope I still remember how everything works. 

Sargie and I got to sneak out onto the lake late one afternoon.



It was a perfect evening for conversation, beauty, and fishing. We even caught a nice mess of crappies.

Our garden, the one that's been ignored all summer, has produced a bounty of vegetables. 

We've been picking for the past several weeks and unless a killer frost comes along, the season should continue for some time.

Sargie made some to-die-for stuffed peppers the other night. Being the pig I know how to be, I ate two.

The garden house and pond remain unfinished. Oh, there's a roof on the garden house and water in the pond, but nothing's changed in the past two weeks. 

Hambone has been with us the past couple of nights and he and Grandma Sargie spent Friday together. I'm told they played in the sand, ate apples, and Hambone was happy to assist Grandma Sargie with a bit of housework.



The Bone is growing up, faster than his grandmother or I care to see. 

Friday evening was beautiful so we decided to go fishing.

We didn't catch a lot, but we had some great conversations and Grady received his first lessons on how to cast a lure. Thankfully, Sargie and I, both, emerged without any new piercings.

Of course, when one takes a five year old fishing, everything needs to be explored and discovered. Hambone didn't let the opportunity go to waste, even if it meant peering under the boat to the bottom of the lake.

I'm going to head out to the shop fairly soon. We're going to add a member to the Bobkitty family in the next week or two. Melonie, one of our kindergarten teachers is expecting a baby any day now. I learned this past week that Melonie and I are related, something like third cousins-in-law by marriage. 

At any rate, I want to make something to commemorate the birth of the newest member of our family, both in name and at school.

I imagine we'll have a Bone exchange at some point today. No doubt, after working all week, Mommy and Daddy will want to see him a bit.

I don't think I'll begin writing again until I'm finished on a daily basis at school. There's simply not enough mental or physical fuel left in the tank at day's end. 

With that being said, it might be a couple of weeks, but rest assured, just like bad breath, I'll be back.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

September 9, 2019 - Monday evening
55 degrees/light rain/breezy
Pentoga Road

It's time to take the quarterly break from writing. My duties at school are challenging, yet I am enjoying them greatly. At any rate, I'm tired and think I'll go on hiatus for a day or five. 

So with that, I'll say so long for now and plan to meet you back here in a few days. Until then, remember...

A man's work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Other than around the door and the front windows, the garden house is closed in.

September 8, 2019 - Sunday evening

52 degrees/cloudy skies/calm winds

Pentoga Road

I was out bright and early this morning working on the rear of the garden house. It took less than an hour to finish the back before moving onto the east side.

Sargie and I took a quick jaunt over to Iron Mountain for a few items. It was a nice ride and we enjoyed ourselves.

Back home, I finished applying the OSB board under the peak on the east side.

Since the least amount of sun shines from the east, I didn't put a window on that side. Insulation will be added to it in the future.

It feels good to have the worst of the construction over. Other than the door and front windows, next will come the siding and trim. Those should require more finesse' rather than strength. Depending on when my final day as principal will be, I might actually be able to finish the garden house yet this fall.

 

I was able to move the pond pump into deeper water late this afternoon. Thankfully, a pair of hip waders were all that was needed to keep dry. I had to cut a pipe and move a fitting before relocating the pump. It took a bit of doing, but the pond should be ready for winter.

 

We left the empty trailer at Yooper Brother Mark's plant this evening. About four more loads of wood are needed to insure we have enough this winter for the house and the outside wood stove that heats the shop.

Sargie has an appointment Monday morning in Iron Mountain. I'll be back at Florence Elementary for what will hopefully be my last week as the principal of the Florence Elementary Bobkitties. 

With that said, it's time to climb those long, steep, stairs to bed.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Stockpiled wood at Yooper Brother Mark's plant

It's quickly approaching that time of the year

September 8, 2019 - Sunday morning

49 degrees/cloudy/calm winds

Pentoga Road

I love the fall, the colors, the smell, the feel. Only one problem, winter comes directly after. 

Now don't get me wrong, I like winter. I just don't care for how it seems to start earlier each year and now extends well into late April, sometimes early May. 

There's a chance we might experience our first frost tonight. Some of the garden goodies aren't ripe yet. Last year by this time, the garden and berries were finished. We currently are two weeks late, probably due to the very late spring we had earlier this year. 

Oh well, we'll do what the farmers in Maine do when it snows. 

We'll let it snow.

Saturday was a busy one. I worked all morning and much of the afternoon putting the sheets of particle board on the garden shed. The first big challenge was to figure the angles under the west side peak.

Let's see, E = MC 2.... no, that wasn't it. Oh yeah Pythagorea invented some theorem or the other on how that's to work.

Hmm, it has something to do with a right angle and hypotenuse, whatever that is. I thought a hypotenuse was a water-loving, pig-shaped, animal on steroids that lived in Africa.

A squared plus B squared = C squared, then a person takes the square root and multiplies that once, but only if by land and twice if by sea, after which Sally sells sea shells by the sea shore.... or something like that. 

Yeah, well, in Tom's world, that wasn't going to happen. I'm the guy who still uses his fingers and toes to count past ten and flunked Geometry 1 twice and turned around and flunked Geometry 2 two more times in high school. I finally passed sophomore geometry two days before my high school graduation.

To me, a square root is a rectangular carrot.

So, I did what any geometrical-challenged builder would do... I simply measured the three sides and threw them all together. In the end, the covering under the peak came out just fine.

 I'm pretty sure Pythagorea was the spawn of Satan, put on earth to make the lives of mathematically-challenged people like me purely miserable. 

Despite the late, cold and wet, spring, we've had a bumper crop of blueberries. Since Sargie and I have been busy this past week, we decided to have a hot berry-plucking date, meet in the blueberry patch, and pick Saturday afternoon... and pick we did, and pick some more, then continue picking, almost two gallons worth.

Even after harvesting gallons and gallons of berries this year, there is still probably a third of the crop that's not yet ripe. I have my doubts as to whether they'll make it this season. 

It's a banner year for apples. The Wolf River tree is going to have a few this year, the first since it was planted nine years ago.

The apples are big and getting bigger and anyone who wants to go bobbing for them in the pond, feel free. Being a winter apple, we won't harvest those until well into the fall when we'll take them to the basement for winter use. They are an excellent pie apple.

The Macintosh apples are also doing well.



Sargie and I shared one yesterday and decided it'll be another couple of weeks before they are ready to harvest. Those, too, will be eaten fresh, given away, dehydrated, or stored for winter use.

We called a halt to our blueberry picking by mid afternoon to take our usual drive. It's amazing how quickly the leaves are beginning to turn colors. I wouldn't be surprised if the trees reach peak colors in another two to three weeks.



I returned to the garden house late in the afternoon and got half of the back covered. I'm planning on finishing the covering today and with the exception of the front windows, door, and fascia, it should be all enclosed.



After, will come the exterior trim for the windows. Jambo said he'd help to make the door. With his artistic carpentry skills, I'm anxious to see what kind of design he comes up with.

It's time to pay a bill or two, then head outside. I don't mind working in this morning's cold, but am dreading having to go swimming later today to set the pump in the pond several feet lower for the winter months. It ain't gonna be pretty, but since I can't talk Sargie into wading into five feet of water and no one else has volunteered, I guess it'll have to be me.

Who in the devil came up with this hair brained idea for having a pond anyway? His mama didn't have a very bright baby.

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

So are the tale from Pentoga Road...

Sometimes the biggest lessons aren't necessarily learned in the classroom, but outside in the form of a toad.

September 7, 2019 - Saturday morning
44 degrees/clear skies/breezy
Pentoga Road

Finally, a few minutes to call my own. My Packers cup is filled with freshly brewed coffee, Sargie's still slumbering upstairs, and the sun is just beginning to peek over the trees. It's the perfect beginning to the weekend.

The past two days have been busy ones as I scurried up and down the halls and out onto the playground in the name of education. I'm lucky, I've been privileged to work with some great faculty and staff. You've heard me call Florence "a shining gem hidden away in the north woods." It still rings true.

That being said, the students are still kiddies and with kiddies come challenges. My first came two days ago while, during a bus behavior class with four year olds, one little boy came to me and said, "I have to go potty, really really really really really bad."

If it were just two or three reallys I wouldn't worry about, but when a boy has to go five really's worth, you know it's urgent.

I'm well versed in potty procedures for little boys, but since a "nature tinkles" was out of the question at school, I told him to get moving towards the bathroom, that I'd walk him in.

He was in distress, that was evident. The boy was dancing, pulling, yanking, and it was clear that disaster wasn't far away.

"Let's go!" I said smiling. "Get moving!"

Boy Munchkin smiled back and took off running. I trotted behind him, fiddling in my pocket for the keys to the security system. 

Rather than wait for me to open the door, the boy got bored and took off in the opposite direction. Seems he'd seen the flower planter and with the attention span of a two by four, decided to climb that while waiting for me to retrieve the right key.

I finally got the door to cooperate and yelled for the tyke. He didn't hear me. Climbing a flower planter was so much fun.

"I though you had to potty!" I said.

"I do," he replied as he attempted to summit the three foot high obstacle.

It's not easy for a little guy to climb a brick flower planter, holding onto the edge with one hand and tugging at his boy parts with the other.

Life is about priorities and clearly, going tinkles, at least in the bathroom, wasn't one of them.

I plucked the little guy from high stop Mt. Flower Planter and, tucking him under one arm, carried him sideways, (making sure he was facing away from me... Mama didn't have no dummy) while I opened the door with the other.

We made it to the bathroom just in the nick of time and eventually back to the bus.

Florence Elementary has a wonderful American Ninja Warrior playground.



It's refreshing to see the little ones actually doing some physical activity.



I was in the gym on Thursday when Secretary Holly approached me with a sorrowful look on her face.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Oh, there's a man in your office and he seems really upset."

"Upset?" I asked. What the heck could he be that upset about?"

"Something that happened on the bus," she replied. I put him in your office and closed the door. He's really mad."

I took my time getting to the office, preparing myself for the first daddy onslaught of the year. I've tangled with many daddies in the past. I might as well add one more to the list.

Taking a big breath, I stepped in and started to speak when the daddy stood and laughed.

It was Jambo.

Complete strangers to each other, Jambo and Holly, had put their heads together and concocted this crazy story to surprise me. Boy, did they ever!

Only in this wonderful area in which we live could two people, who'd never met, get together on a moment's notice and pull such a thing off on a poor undeserving principal.

Seems Jambo and Germaine were on their way through town and Mike wanted to stop in to say hi, make sure his buddy was still alive and well.

Golly, we laughed. Our visit was short, but good. I told ol' Jambo that paybacks are hell. 

He just laughed, but as we all know, he who laughs last, laughs best. 

I can hardly wait until the next time he comes to his camp and finds it's been painted bubblegum pink.

As for Miss Holly... retribution will be mine. I'm just waiting for the right time.

Miss J's third grade class

Friday's excitement started early in the day. I was greeting the buses when a mommy brought in her screaming five year old. I bent down and in my best grandfatherly voice said, "What's the matter sweetheart." 

The little blondie shouted at me and screamed at her mother as she tried to pull away.

Mom looked helpless and embarrassed. To make matters worse, Mom had to go to work.

Our kindergarten teacher was on bus duty and assured Mom that everything would be just fine. 

Meanwhile, the little screaming, fit-throwing, urchin was in phase two of having a good old-fashioned hissy fit. No amount of calming voice from the kindergarten teacher would work.

The bell rang. It was time for school to begin.

"Let her sit on the bench," I said. "She's mine... all mine. Oh yes, SHE'S MINE."

I told Little Missy that as long as she was throwing a fit, she'd have to sit on the bench, all day if need be, by herself. I then got up to walk in the front door.

Missy wasn't going to let me have the last word. She took off her shoes and threw them at me. 

I have a fairly long fuse, but it had been burned at both ends by week's end. I calmly picked up the shoes and tucked them in my pockets.

Out maneuvered, Missy took off her pink Barbi backpack and threw that at me. I repeated my earlier actions, strapping it over one shoulder.

I was within hitting range. Why not throw a five year old round house at the mean old principal?

My LaMaze training, that which I slept through with the boys' mother over forty years ago, took over.

"Take a big breath, Tom. In/out/in/out... cleansing breath... get a focal point. Concentrate. Go to that happy place on Pentoga Road. Let the pain subside and breathe out. In/out/in... exhale slowly."

I turned and winked at Little Missy and went inside the school, leaving her all alone.

What? No one to throw a fit for? All alone in front of the school? Why, there could be fire breathing lions and tigers and bears, OH MY!

After two minutes of screaming and pretend crying, it finally dawned on Missy that she'd buried herself in a deep deep in a hole. Watching through a window just feet away, I felt no small amount of satisfaction along with compassion. Completely defeated and broken, she wanted her mommy, her daddy, anyone.

I let her stew for a minute or two before magically appearing. This time she was ready to listen. She asked if she could please go to school. Could she please have her shoes and book bag back? 

In time, all her wishes came true, including getting to apologize to her classroom teacher and to me.

I checked in on her later in the day and was greeted at the door with a huge hug and smile. In fact, I'd venture to say we might just well be BFF's.

Just as with the opening picture, sometimes the best lessons learned at school aren't in the classroom, but on an outside bench where there could be lions and tigers and bears, OH MY!

I walked out of school last night thankful that it was Friday. Sargie had attended a funeral earlier in the day and was babysitting her great niece, Aria, at Sasha and Alex's. After, she and sister, Nancy, stopped at a local restaurant for a fish fry.

I arrived home, changed into comfortable clothes and managed to put most the covering on the west side of the garden house.

Whoops. While using the wheel barrow on which to cut a 4x8 sheet of particle board, I accidentally sawed off a corner underneath.

It appears there's a good chance that this coming week could be my last as principal of Florence Elementary. We have a strong candidate coming in for an interview and with any luck at all, he'll be a good one and able to start as soon as possible. I'll stay during the transition if needed, but after that, I'LL BE FREE. 

I'm looking forward to going back to occasionally substitute teaching in Bobkittyland. You know, a couple of times a week, spreading the love and some knowledge here and there, getting a few hugs from the munchkins, and letting someone else steer the ship through the choppy waters of education. 

I'm more than happy to be a crew member.

That being said, it's time to get out to the garden house, NOT SHE SHED, PEOPLE, and try to get it enclosed yet this weekend. I'm even hopeful that the permanent siding can be put on at some point before snowfall.



Then there's firewood to put up and all those things we do before snow flies.

Oh Lord, I don't even want to think about it... or do I? Yup, I do. All that beats carrying a potty laden munchkin with a very full bladder under one arm down the halls of learning.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...