November 30, 2020 - Sunday morning
32 degrees/clear skies/calm winds
Pentoga Road

I know I've said it a thousand times before, but I love these early predawn hours, especially this time of the year. The fire's crackling, the world, at least on Pentoga Road, is quiet and peaceful. There is no Covid, no politics, no nothing except me and my thoughts. In my younger years, I cursed my inability to sleep in, but now, I embrace it. 

I wonder what the poor people are doing? 

Why, they're the ones still in bed, happily slumbering away. 

Meanwhile, I get to selfishly enjoy these precious hours that are mine and mine alone.

Well, look at this beautiful family. Miss Jody and Mississippi Brother Garry were lucky enough to have all three of the their children, Eric, Kevin, and Kari, under one roof to celebrate Thanksgiving.

Kari, Garry, Jody, Kevin, Eric

Looking at those kids. You can tell the apples don't fall far from the tree, eh?

Luke sent this picture featuring his new electric turkey fryer. Luke's not only a fire fighter, he's also an accomplished chef, especially when it comes to preparing various meats. The boy said that this 2020's Thanksgiving turkey ranked in the top five of the many he's prepared over the years, be they smoked, baked, or fried. Ol' Lukie could fry shoe leather and make it taste good.

Saturday dawned warm and sunny. Returning home from my morning walk we made a dash to town to run a few errands. While at one of our local stores, Sargie found the perfect Merry Christmas sign to hang on the front porch.

I tease her that if she keeps purchasing Christmas decor we'll be forced to build another storage shed. In all honestly, I don't mind a bit. There are worse things in the world than celebrating Christmas.

Decorating the interior of the house continues and should be finished today. 

What? Wreaths on my exercise bike? Sargie has them wrapped in lights and with bows tied, these will be hung on the garden house, not my bike.

Just as I shuffled through the Christmas death march two days ago bringing totes into the house, the reverse will be done today, taking the empty plastic boxes back to the storage shed. Devoid of their contents, at least they don't weigh anything to speak of.

I spent most of Saturday outside, connecting wires, running extension cords hither, thither, and yon, wiring, rewiring, and occasionally muttering. At times, I felt like I was recreating a cheap rendition of Chevy Chase's Christmas Vacation.

There were wires running over wires and outlets with plugs that took forever to trace. After several hours of traipsing around the outside of the house and yard, I prayed a two fold silent prayer:

1. that I not be electrocuted

2. that the lights would work

It was time. 

All I could think of was Clark Griswold joining two overloaded extension cords while loudly warbling Joy to the World.

In the end, I had better luck than Clark.

Inside, my Sargie was busy tying bows for five wreaths that will be lit and decorate the garden house and entrance to the pond/garden area. She also continued to empty the totes, finding a special place for everything.

I've got a million, billion, and thirteen, things to do today. Other than carrying the totes from the house to the storage shed, I'll be hanging the wreaths around the garden. I'd like to get rid of the old squash and apples in the barn so the Kia and Blazer can be put under cover, and no doubt, we'll enjoy a Sunday afternoon drive.

But first, I'll go for my walk at first light, still half an hour away.

The pinkish red light to the left is part of a laser light show that plays out on the large barn door.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Power was restored for another year to Mom's Christmas village on the dining room table.