Mid Summer Sam and his girlfriend are decked out for Easter

April 2, 2021 - Friday morning
16 degrees/clear skies/calm winds
Pentoga Road

I don't know who dresses Mid Summer Sam and his lady friend, but someone puts in a lot of work and has a lot of fun keeping both dressed for the season. Sargie and I drive by once a month or so just to see the latest in fashion wear.

Thursday turned out to be a busy day. After my early morning walk and a quick drive to town and around one of our area lakes, I was out in the shop working on the Easter puzzle. Thursday's goal was to use a router to hollow a base for the letters. Since the puzzle is for little ones, Sargie felt it best to paint the topside of each. Looking at them after, I'm glad I followed her advice.

Today will see me sanding and staining the base and I'll be able to call this project finished and ready for Saturday's Mighty Milligan Easter Celebration.

I was changing the carburetor on the backhoe when Sargie came outside saying a pipe was leaking in the house. I dropped my tools and took off for the basement where water was pooling.

Hmm, no leak in the basement, but rather was dripping through the floor overhead. The water could be coming from only one source, the kitchen sink.

Sure enough, when being used, the kitchen faucet had a rather severe drip.

I have a real problem with plumbing, namely, I hate it. 

Hate's not a strong enough word, but it's the only one that comes to mind at this moment.

Where do plumbers go to school to learn their trade? It has to be some masochistic evil place that dwells on the edge of Hades. 

Satan Tech?

What are the classes? Head bumping 101? How about a graduate course in swearing? Better yet, a internship entitled, "The Longest Two Hours You've Ever Spent. PLUMBING! A Rotten Vocation for a Better Tomorrow!"

I hate it even worse when I'm trying to cram my 215 pound body into a tight space and either continually bump my head or skin my knuckles.

Self admittedly, I'm not very bright in the plumbing department. At one point, I'd disconnected both the hot and cold water, made an adjustment, forgot to connect one outlet, then turned it on only to have cold water pour up into my ear that was directly over the valve.

All that was needed was John the Baptist and I could have been christened right there in the bowels of the kitchen cabinet. A laughing Sargie handed me a towel but not before using it to wipe the tears from her face. 

Don't even go there. I'm not a happy camper at this point.

In the end, we found the leak was coming from inside the sealed faucet. No doubt, one of the molded plastic washers had rotted to the point of allowing water to escape. Time for a new faucet.

We made a quick trip to Iron Mountain late in the afternoon and purchased a new faucet almost exactly like the old one. It doesn't take an Einstein to know what's on this morning's agenda. Sargie doesn't think that using a bucket sitting under the sink, catching the dripping water, is a permanent solution. 

Oh, and the backhoe? The new carburetor was installed and so far, the engine has refused to fire to life. There's spark, there's fuel, but nothing beyond that.

I believe the problem lies with the rusted kill switch that fell apart in my hands. I disconnected it, wired both sides together, and so far, nothing. I need Trail Boss and Master Mechanic Scotty here to help with the problem, but where is the boy? He's in the suburbs of Atlanta, no doubt sitting on the veranda singing songs of the south while drinking mint juleps. Again, Einstein won't have to be present to guess what else is on today's schedule.

I'll finish the base of the puzzle at some point this afternoon and it will be ready to go out the door tomorrow. 

Yooper Brother Mark will be here in a bit for our usual Friday morning walk. It looks to be another busy day ahead so I better wrap this up and get the show on the road.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

My new micro spikes that will be used when needed during the winter months on the AT next year. Until then, I'm thinking of hiring myself out to aerate lawns.