The essential ingredient in Wednesday's homemade air filtration system for the shop, a simple, very used, half melted, ugly, old, fan.

November 16, 2017 - Thursday
25 degrees/cloudy/breezy
Pentoga Road

Sargie popped out of bed shortly after seven this morning in a panic, saying, "Oh no! I'm late for work," and hurriedly began putting on her robe.

Poor girl has Vision Center on the mind.

I reminded her she doesn't have to work today, that other than attending a late-morning funeral, it's all her's to do with as she desires. 

My beautiful bride got that puzzled look in her eyes that we've all had at one time or the other, mumbled a bit, crawled back into bed pulling my arm over her, and closed her eyes. 

I wonder if she'll remember the episode when she wakes for the day?

I'm reminded of Les Worley, my college roommate during my freshman year. 

Poor Les was an only child, a mama's boy, who went to bed promptly at 9 PM and awakened at 6 every morning so he could walk across campus to eat breakfast. Les had to be the only undergraduate to actually eat breakfast. The rest of us were typical male college students of the boar hog variety. We guzzled beer until well past midnight, played "pull my finger," told lies about fictitious dates, and slept until minutes before our first class, sprinting and sliding into the classroom with seconds to spare.

 Poor Les was a smart kid academically, but dumber than a stump in the social department. 

One night, he became angry with me because a friend and I were talking in our room. It was 9:15 and he wanted to go to sleep. I, along with some buddies, waited an hour, then sneaked back into the dorm room and set his alarm for midnight. Since we lived in a suite, five dorm rooms off of one central living area, we turned off all the lights making it seem like it was early morning.

The boar hogs went into hiding.

The alarm went off, Les stumbled into the bathroom, took his shower and brushed his teeth, donned his clothes, and took off across campus in search of breakfast. 

It was an angry roommate that returned ten minutes later. I felt so sorry that I offered one of my precious beers as a make up offering. 

The kid was the butt of a lot of pranks that first year. We did the shaving cream/tickle the nose trick one night and even submerged his hand in warm water while he slept another. 

At the end of our freshman year, as a peace offering, we arranged for a person of the opposite gender to visit him in the middle of the night, but I won't go into details. Mom hasn't heard that story and though almost fifty years have passed, I'm not sure she needs to know. Mama still carries a big stick.

Meanwhile, back on Pentoga Road:

I'm trying to think of some way that I might make yesterday's action sound interesting. So far, I'm drawing a big, fat, blank.

The day dawned dark and rainy. At first, I wasn't going to walk, but in the end, decided I wouldn't melt if I got wet. I didn't.

I really really really wanted to work on that turkey, but knowing I had to paint, decided to clean the shop and try to rid it of all the dust.

Even after an hour of using a vacuum, it still seemed dirty. Something needed to be done. I couldn't paint in there with dust flying everywhere.

Hmmm. Hmmm.

I needed an air filtration system. Mississippi Brother Garry had sent me a video on how to make a frame for two box fans, one atop the other. Seemed like to me a small fan might work in a frame with a furnace filter mounted on the intake side.

It was worth a try.

The fan is one that I often use to blow air into the fire when boiling maple sap. It acts as an electronic bellows making the coals as hot as possible.

The plastic around the fan melted long ago and warped which made it the perfect ingredient for the questionable filtration system.

After the wooden frame was assembled, I dashed to town to purchase a couple of two-inch thick furnace filters.

Rather than spend time calculating how to mount them, I simply tacked each side into place with  long screws. Simple.

Hmm, how to mount the contraption to the ceiling. Again, the simplest method was used, a piece of parachute cord was attached on each side.

Would it work? I lit a paper towel and quickly extinguished it to create a goodly amount of smoke. Standing five feet away, I watched as the fan drew the smoke into the filter. 



Garry said it makes no difference what anything looks like when it remains in a shop as long as it works. I think he was just trying to make me feel better about my new invention's ugly appearance.

I crossed the air filtration system off my list and began work on a vacuum dust collector for the orbital/belt sander. I use the sander often and it throws as much or more dust into the air as the lathe.

As long as I had to move the machine, I decided to give it a thorough cleaning.

A corporate decision was made that the new collector would be similar to the one I made for the lathe. It's worked remarkably well this past year.

I used my last refrigerator crisper to collect what the vacuum wouldn't gather.

A hole was drilled through which the nozzle would fit.

It took a bit of give and take, and as always, I had to say the exact right words, but finally, the vacuum dust collection system was finished.

When needing the vacuum elsewhere, I can take the hose off the nozzle. In fact, it will only be attached if I'm using the sander.

Tired from my day of ugly inventiveness, I retired to the house to make a large pot of cheesy, creamy, potato soup.

Sargie was home mid evening and we enjoyed soup along with fresh biscuits smothered in butter and Jambo's (Neighbor Mike's) homemade peach jam.

I'm heading back out to the shop as soon as Sargie leaves for the funeral. At least it's clean to begin with. My goal for today is to get that &^$_ turkey finished.

Stand back, I'm a man on a mission.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...