Upon my return from last saturday's Blugold football game I found, to my dismay, that my stove wood had been delivered while I was at the game.
Last year the two young men who delivered it were easily cajoled into stacking the wood for me with a twenty dollar bill. But this year, no such luck.
So I e mailed the one man I felt would come to my rescue as we have done each other favors over the years: Mr. Tom Johnson, composition teacher extraordinaire from Madison, Wisconsin.
Tom got in about 11:30 AM on thursday and we immediately set to work on the six cord of wood. (Somehow I have managed to get the pictures here out of order, but as you can see from the photos, it wasn't long and we had completely filled the right side of the porch before we took a break and I fed Tom with what really sealed the deal to get him gto drive all the way up here and work so hard for: "A Blinky" pizza.
Without going in to great detail, a long time ago we gave each other nicknames, as manly men will. While traveling to Green Bay to catch a game in person, I noticed that Tom was blinking quite a lot. He had gone under a procedure on his eyes and was still experiencing some discomfort. Hence I began calling him "Blinky" and as revenge he named me Little Bladder Man for gthe number of stops I caused for bath room use on the way.
A "blinky" pizza is Tom's own idea of ingredients: mozarella, sauce, Italian sausage, and jalepeno-stuffed green olives. This is a great pizza but not for the faint of heart! For dessert I made him his favorite pie, banana cream.
By the time we had dined it was already dark and we were both so stiff and sore that we called it a day, wondering if we would even be able to get up this morning.
Surprisingly, I was up and at 'em by 8AM and popped for breakfast at Perkins by 8:30. It had started to rain, so we donned rain gear and managed to finish off the task at hand by noon. A trip to the nearby Menard's provided the lovely blue tarps pictured.
Before Tom hit the road (he has to teach a saturday morning class) he helped me solve my faulty front office door problem with another quick trip to good old Menard's. I have a lot more faith in Tom's mechanical aptitude than I have in my own, so with a little begging I managed to keep him on premises until that was fixed.
So I wish to extend a big thank you to Tom Johnson for coming to the rescue in my time of need. Truth is, we both enjoy each other's company so neither of us really felt like it was work. We consumed more than one 'Kugel and even had a wee dram of Jameson's fine Irish whiskey while we played a football board game that I invented and am in the process of getting the kinks out of --
I got an e mail from Mr. Johnson earlier this evening and he is threatening to bring his football team "Johnson's Juggernauts" back into my stadium to make it two in a row having beat my ass 28 to 24 in our first game.
THANKS, TOM. YOU ARE A GOOD FRIEND! COME BACK SOON. YOU ALWAYS HAVE A WARM SAFE PLACE TO COME TO RIGHT HERE JUST OUT OF TOWN!