My newest camera. I must have gone through at least ten or twelve over the twenty years I've been blogging.

January 4, 2020 - Saturday morning

23 degrees/cloudy/calm winds

Pentoga Road

The new camera arrived in yesterday's mail. What's new about it? Well, nothing. In fact, it's the exact model, color, size, and shape, and has the same technology as the old one. 

The previous Fuji was still working well except for a couple of buttons. More importantly, the lens had become scratched and taking pictures from a certain angle produced a glare, much like when one has cataracts. It was time to retire the old beast.

The selection of pocket cameras has diminished greatly over the past few years as smart phones have become more sophisticated. Still, I've perfected the one-handed method of pulling a camera out of my pocket and snapping a picture so quickly that it's over in a matter of a second or two.

Just call me Quick Draw.

A camera of some sort accompanies me everywhere. Slipping it in my pants pocket each morning is as automatic as including my wallet or car keys. It's a habit and I seldom go anywhere without it. 

I love these extra tough Fuji cameras and I believe, this is the fourth or fifth one I've owned. Water and shock proof, they are tough little buggers. Granted, the quality of pictures isn't as good as the better models, but in my case, it's the durability I'm most interested in. I have an SLR Nikon D50 with multiple lenses if I want to pretend I'm a professional photographer. 

Ah, heck, if nothing else, my grandchildren or great grandchildren, maybe one or more, can spend some time fifty or a hundred years from now going through all their grandfather's blogs and hundreds of thousands of pictures, seeing how it was in the old days.

Oh, one more camera fact. According to the pedometer on my smart phone, the last camera endured at least ten to twelve million steps, around four to five thousand miles, of daily wear and hiking. It went swimming multiple times, was dropped at least twice from the roof of the house, was once laid on the hot wood stove, and almost backed over by the car.

You think these things aren't tough?

Now to be retired and put out to pasture... or in the top drawer of the hutch.

Friday was spent in the computer lab and/or library at Florence Elementary. I hadn't seen everyone in almost six weeks and received lots of hugs and many condolences from the teachers.

I love my professional family. I'm old enough to be their father and most the faculty and staff treat me that way. Of course, I eat it up. They're sweethearts, all of them, and I'd do about anything for them.

I received multiple Mr. P. hugs from the munchkins and heard countless stories of what each received for Christmas. It appears Santa definitely stopped in Florence, Wisconsin, on Christmas Eve.

Grandma Sargie and Grady had a good day, much of it spent outside. I know they knocked icicles from the roof, climbed over mountains of snow, and of course, made snow angels.



One of the reasons I write a blog is so that someday, when he's old enough, Hambone will realize how lucky he is to have a grandma like Sargie, one who will go outside and play hours with him in the snow. She makes memories with him that he should carry throughout his lifetime.

I think there're a couple snow angels in there somewhere... you might have to look closely.

We made the Hambone exchange last night at one of our favorite eating places in Florence. Having just unpacked the new camera, Macrea set it up for me and of course, Pawpaw had to try it out.

Who was the very first picture of? Guess.

We enjoyed fish, burgers, and even grilled cheese.

The roads were a bit slippery coming home, but we made it creeping along, white knuckling it, and praying a deer wouldn't jump out in front of us.

The house was quiet last night without the roar of a five year old's jet engine zooming around the place. It's back to just Pawpaw and Grandma Sargie on Pentoga Road.

I wonder if Macrea realizes there's an alien arm and hand sprouting from his side?

Today is take-down-the-Christmas-decorations-day. I'll make multiple trips to and from the storage shed carrying hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, of totes while Sargie lovingly wraps each ornament and packs it away for another year. We'll fire up Alexa to play some old time rock 'n roll, and before we know it, Sargie and I will have sung and danced the decorations away for another year.

It's just the way we do things around here.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...