February 23, 2021 - Tuesday morning
33 degrees/partly cloudy/breezy
Pentoga Road

I just stepped off the bathroom scales and see that I've regained my "winter ten." Since my college days, almost half a century ago, I can count on adding ten pounds to this quickly aging body of mine every winter. Traditionally, like the snow of the north country, the extra weight tends to melt away with the longer days of spring and I regain my summer physique.

At least it used to melt away.

I do well over the holidays, but the cold temperatures and short days of mid to late winter attracts the pounds to my mid section like flies to road kill. Worse yet, as I age, the pounds are becoming more reluctant to leave at winter's end.

Not to worry though, at least for the next couple of years.

It's certain I'll see a huge weight loss while hiking the trail next year. I know one man who lost almost eighty pounds. Shedding fifty or more isn't unheard of and I read the average loss for a male is in the forty pound range.

Still, that's a tough way to lose weight and of course, once the hike is finished, the starved body stores every ounce of fat consumed so a post-hike massive weight gain is inevitable. 

Hmm, a weight loss of sixty pounds. That would put me down to what I weighed in seventh grade. Growing six inches in the summer between my sixth and seventh grade years, I stretched to a full six feet tall, my current height, but looked more like a string bean with a bad case of acne. Also, I couldn't walk two steps without tripping.

My muscles soon caught up to my bones and track was my sport, a sprinter. I went to state in the hundred yard dash and broke the school record my eighth grade year. Kindergarteners looked up to me in envy and I was a legend in my own mind.

I even lettered at Edison Junior High School. Oh yeah, Mom sewed the big E on a used, oversized, white sweater and I wore it proudly each and every day at school until junior high graduation. After all, I had a reputation to withhold and kindergarteners don't impress easily.

So, all that being said, why fret about this winter's annual weight gain? I'll arrive home a year from next August after hiking the AT in great shape. Sargie will delight that she's married to a man with the body (well, at least the weight) of an eighth grade track star.

Weight gain problem solved. 

There's still one little matter. I can't find that darn junior high letter sweater.

Monday morning's walk on Pentoga Road was absolutely beautiful. The sun began peaking through the clouds and the thermometer was quickly rising.

Much of the morning was spent clearing the back deck of snow that had fallen from the steep roof overhead.

Generally I use the power shovel, but with the wet, heavy, snow that covered the deck, I opted to break out the big gun, the 16 hp snowblower.

The power shovel runs on electricity. I use an old extension cord, a white one that blends in with the snow. After each use, I neatly roll it into a coil and place it out of the way.

Let's see how bright Mama's boy is.

A white cord +  white heavy snow + lousy eyesight + a large snowblower =

Yeah, I didn't see the extension cord, but the snowblower found it. It wound twenty five feet into the auger in under two seconds.

How could something that happened so fast take so long to untangle? Thankfully, Mama wasn't around to wash her little guy's mouth out with soap.

The rest of the day was spent in the shop. I cut and stained a backer board to fit inside the frame that Sargie had purchased. I'll be mounting the Lord's Prayer later today.

Several piddly projects were worked on before I turned my attention to the bluegill intarsia piece at the scroll saw.

I chuckled while sawing the fish. Looking from above through the heavy magnifying glass, it was reminiscent of fishing through a small hole drilled in the ice. 

Last evening was a quiet one. I need a larger disk sander and am not sure whether to make a backing disk that will fit on the lathe or save time and purchase one from Harbor Freight. I don't need a top of the line model, just something that will work. Mississippi Brother Garry and I texted back and forth and no doubt, there'll be further conversations before I make up my mind.

With the warmer temperatures, the pond is beginning to break up over the circulating pump. The four inch hole I had to chop in the frigid temperatures last week has turned into one that stretches over three feet in length.

Today looks to be much the same as yesterday. I'll go for my walk then plan to spend much of the day in the shop. I hope to finish the Lord's Prayer and saw the bluegill.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...