E'est Fini!

July 2, 2020 - Thursday morning

64 degrees/clear skies/calm winds

Pentoga Road

Yup, we finished painting the house around noon on Wednesday. I only have one thing to say. THIS IS MY LAST HOUSE PAINTING JOB IN MY LIFETIME.

Yeah, I said the same the last time we painted... and the time before, but this time, I really mean it.

Skipping my usual walk, I was out the door shortly after sunrise on Wednesday. It was up the ladder, down the ladder, up the ladder, slop, wipe, cuss. Up the ladder, down the ladder, slop, wipe, cuss.

Sargie soon joined me and we once again fell into rhythm as Pentoga Road's slathering team of painters.

In a race against the hot sun to stay in the shadows, we worked together like a well oiled relay team. The final coat was applied on the west side (front) of the house. Sargie worked below while I scooted across the porch roof on my backside, painting under the eaves.

We're particular about our footwear here on Pentoga Road. I donned a seldom worn pair of Dr. Scholls athletic shoes with a non slip sole to help keep me from falling off the roof.

I wrote a newspaper column over thirty years ago about old men who wear tennis shoes and shorts with socks stretching clear up to their belly buttons. The only thing needed is a white Cadillac in which to commute back and forth to our nonexistent winter dwelling in Florida and a yipping fifi dog with a bow in its hair.

After our daily jaunt to town for Sargie's Coke, my bride decided she wanted to ride the mower. You'll notice she wears very fashionable toe protectors, those pilfered from my shop and used when she dons open toe sandals to keep her piggies from getting dirty.

The yard is that way...

While Sargie was mowing, I retired to my much cooler shop and worked on a deep container made from aspen.

I didn't realize a gnarly knot resided deep inside the wood. The lightest touch was needed to prevent snagging the thing and causing all kinds of chaos.

When sanding the interior of a deeper (for lack of a better word) bowl, I wear a leather glove. The heat from sanding, plus touching the sides with my hand and wrist, can become uncomfortable.

Despite the knot, the bowl began taking shape.

After a couple more light sanding sessions, it should be ready to apply the first of ten to fifteen coats of food safe finish.

It felt good to be back in the shop again, standing at the lathe, making wood shavings and sawdust fly everywhere. I made a pact with myself yesterday afternoon that I would dedicate at least half a day a week in the shop for some quality Tom time.

Once again, Sargie has the yard looking like a park. At one point, she came across something strange in the middle of the side yard.

 Uh huh, it's a wild turkey egg. We're still wondering how it ended up in the yard. By the way, when one gives a wild turkey egg a pitch into the woods, rather than break, it bounces like a rubber ball when hitting the ground. 

Last evening was spent watering the flowers and garden. Sargie and I took turns playing, as we call it, Hose Boy or Hose Girl.

It requires almost a hundred feet of hose to reach all the planters, or the furthest beds in the garden. We're talking two separate hoses from two hydrants.

Hose Boy or Hose Girl drags the weight of a hundred feet while the other goes ahead with the nozzle and waters the plants. His/her job is to keep the hose from kinking and shutting off the water supply. 

And yes, we call each other Hose Boy or Hose Girl during our watering sessions, as in, "Oh Hose Boy, if you want supper tonight, quit daydreaming. There must be a kink somewhere."

Sargie's sporting her painting/mowing/watering hot day summer wear. Wearing one of my old t shirts with the sleeves rolled up, a ball cap, and those very fashionable vinyl toe protectors, it's no wonder everyone wants to be us.

We're heading to Green Bay today, as much to celebrate the end of the house painting as to purchase household supplies. Actually, the two and a half hour drive gives us a good excuse to make a road trip, talk, laugh, and sing, as we enjoy the comforts of an air conditioned car on a very hot day.

With that being said, it's time to think about heading south of the border.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Check out that sexy sweat band. Don't even start with the Richard Simmons joke, Scott.
Speaking of Scott, my trail boss for the Appalachian Trail, the boy wrote saying I should NOT wear inexpensive Walmart crocs while standing for hours on the top rung of an extension ladder. Doing so is tough on the arches.
Scott's doing his job. Tough and demanding, that's why he's my trail boss. He'll be running the logistics in 2022 from his home in the Atlanta area.