I wasn't going to write, but then what does a person do in the early morning hours while waiting for a line of thunderstorms to rumble though?

July 14, 2020 - Tuesday morning

63 degrees/heavy clouds/heavy rain

Pentoga Road

Okay, so I lied. I've been sitting here, twiddling my thumbs, waiting for the lightning and rain to disappear so I could go for my walk. 

Seems God has other ideas. 

Early morning writing is such a habit that I don't really know what else to do with myself. Oh well, maybe I'll begin my hiatus tomorrow morning. 

Yeah, that's it. 

Uh huh.

Well, let's see. What's new on Pentoga Road?

I skipped my Monday morning stroll in favor getting an early start on the garden house. First order of business was to begin painting the trim around the windows.

I'm a horrible painter. Suffering from Essential Tremors, (thanks Grandma P) I'm not real good at one-handed trim work. I do well on the big stuff, but when I attempt to place a small brush in a certain place, I might as well be wearing a pair of heavy winter mittens using a roll of wet toilet paper. With a shaking hand, paint usually ends up everywhere, including on myself.

What's with this tremor stuff anyway? Grandma had it in her senior years and Dad had the symptoms, although his diagnoses was a brain tumor from which he later passed away. 

Fearful of Parkinson's, tumors, or any other malady that might cause shaking, I had a head scan last year and was told there was no need to worry, that they couldn't find anything wrong. In fact, the doctor had difficulty finding my brain and questioned if such a thing even existed.

So back to the painting. 

I went through a roll of green painters tape, carefully sticking it to the edges of the window panes. In the end, my trim work came out okay and after pointing out a few dozen places that I missed, passed the very rigorous, peered reviewed, Sargie inspection. 

To be quite honest, I've penned academic, peer reviewed, papers that weren't as closely scrutinized as Sargie does my work. She's ruthless.

Speaking of Sargie, we spent much of yesterday installing the overhead trim on the overhead peaks. Talk about a pain.

The trim, not Sargie. (Once again, I remind you Mama didn't have no dummy.)

I'd have pictures, but I didn't think I was going to write a blog today, so I didn't bother to pull the camera from my pocket. 

Angles? You've never seen such angles. Then there were the places where one piece of trim fit into another. At one point, there were three or four cuts, all angles, that had to be measured and sawed. 

It was up the ladder, hold the board, make a mark, down the ladder, and cut. Up the ladder, hold the board, make a mark, down the ladder and cut. 

Sounds like a Richard Simons exercise routine:

Okay, ladieth, let'th get those bootieth shaking!
Can you feel it?

Hmm, how about a rap? 

Hey, quit smirking. I'm hip. I'm with it. 

Yo, it was up the ladder, yaaaa, ya know

Homie Sargie hold da board

Yo make a mark, sista, yo?

Don' look at me, not my fault

I comin' down the ladder, yo

Don' give me no looks, Sargie Pants

Yo makin' me much madder

yo.

Ah, never mind. My ebonics and rap lyrics make me sound as though I'm from the burbs, drink herbal tea, love Al Gore, and attend PTA meetings for a living.

That being said, how about a nursery rhyme from Sargie's perspective:

Tommy had a garden house

On which he placed some trim

Sargie gently held the board again, wondering

What the heck is wrong with him?

He measured and cut, he's sure it's right,

he climbed the ladder with haste,

Oh Lord the cut is wrong again,

more lumber gone to waste

Another board, another mark, 

This time he thinks he can,

Tammy crooned some good advice,

After all, he's just a man.

Except for a few straight, none angle, boards to install in the rear of the garden house, all the trim is finished. 

The best news from yesterday's labors is that Sargie and I are still married. In fact, we went for ice cream last night just to celebrate making it through the day without killing each other. 

Rose and Casey stopped over in the afternoon. Casey, up from Kentucky, is job hunting and needed to use the internet. Otherwise, we sat on the back deck and had a good visit.

Today looks to be a rainy one. Storms are forecast  which means I'll either be in the shop or taking a nap. No doubt, Sargie will have some thoughts of her own about what we could do. 

Who knows, it might be a Rhinelander day filled with frolicking up one aisle and down the other, finding unheard of bargains at prices too low to mention. 

Yeah, I think I'll go hide in my shop. I've had root canals that are more fun than frolicking up and down aisles looking for bargains.

After all, I'm just a man and my work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...