On Sunday morning, after a breakfast of my Dad's traditional oatmeal with applesauce and blueberries (I probably ate mine about 5 hours after his), we fixed a canoe that I guess he made out of fiberglass from a kit in the 70s.

The last time I was there, a few weeks ago, he pointed it out, sitting decrepit in the woods near one of his ponds, and said he was planning to fix it. This time it was up on a wheelbarrow in the front yard with a bunch of patch work already done.

We worked together so we could use up most of the resin before it epoxied up (is that a verb?) and we almost made it, too.