Hey, it worked for me during my band director days!
Thanks to my friend and former life long band parent, Eileen, for sending this.

November 14, 2018 - Wednesday

12 degrees/calm winds/partly cloudy

Pentoga Road

Once again, I'm up way too early. I don't know, seems I can hardly keep my eyes open past nine each evening, but anytime after four AM becomes fair game to rise and shine. I wish Sargie and I could get on the same time clock. She disdains the early morning hours.  

I've always been an early riser. Mom is fond of telling the story how, when I was small, I wakened in the wee hours of the morning and wandered into their bedroom in search of someone to talk with. Failing to achieve a conversation, I was happy to serenade each.  Neither Mom or Dad were too keen on entertaining a four year old chatterbox so they surrounded my bed with toys and books with the hope I'd entertain myself. 

It must have worked. Over sixty years later, I'm still alive and kicking. 

I don't know what it is. I lie in bed each morning staring up at the ceiling, thinking how I'm wasting the day by remaining between the sheets. I've always deemed sleep as a necessity, not recreational. 

I usually start my in-bed day with a pillow prayer, giving thanks for the day before and praying that I don't make too many bonehead moves during the waking hours ahead. I move from there to planning out the day, what I'd like to do and what chores need to be done.

Then I get to thinking and thinking, then thinking some more. It's dangerous to ponder any subject that much. I'm simply not all that bright. 

My mind seizes on one teeny, tiny, minuscule, thought and refuses to let go. It becomes an obsession and whatever I'm obsessing about grows and gets bigger like a piece of tough beef steak that one's chewed on forever and still can't swallow.

Pulling the blankets up and punching myself in the face in an attempt to knock myself unconscious isn't the answer, so here it is, barely past 6 AM and I've been up for an hour and a half. 

Tuesday began with a very chilly morning walk. The temperature was hovering around 12 degrees and the wind was blowing.

Even with my delicate cheeks turning rosy red, walking felt good and the four and a half miles were completed no worse for the wear.

I journeyed to town to run some errands only to find the wheel bearings that were supposed to be in yesterday were never ordered. The man at the auto parts store apologized and promised they'd have them first thing this morning.

My next stop was to settle a bill for work done on the Blazer, but found I owed nothing. The fuel pump was still under warrantee and covered the labor as well as the pump.

Happy that I still had some money left in my pocket, but fairly disgusted that my trip to town was for naught, I returned home to what I thought would be a warm shop. Seemed the fire in the wood furnace never really took off and the shop was ice cold.

It was too chilly to do any careful sawing or turning. I've been wanting to improve on the dust collecting system for the scroll saw, so I took the table off and did some experimenting. 



So far, so good.

The fire finally took off in the wood furnace and after alternating working then blowing on my hands for an hour, wonderful, beautiful, heat poured into the shop. I was set to begin sawing the Thanksgiving piece.

What was that? I was looking on the internet for some additional Thanksgiving ideas when I spotted plans to make a wooden piggy bank.

Who doesn't love a piggy bank? 

Matter of fact, I've wanted to get a miniature pet pig for sometime. We'd name him something original, like... Porky... and he'd be our friend. I would teach him tricks, write about our adventures together, and he could serve as our watch pig.

Unfortunately, Sargie doesn't have the same urge to acquire a mini Porky. She's even gone as far as to say a rather emphatic, "NO!" 

I'm not seeing a lot of wiggle room in her response. 

I digressed. Meanwhile, back to the shop...

I replaced any ideas of Turkey Day for those spent in the hog lot of life. That piggy bank would be mine. Oh yes, by all that is holy, I will make that piggy bank.

First, I had to cut out a jillion pieces, four of them shaped like a pig.

Note the hollow interior. That's where all the millions of dollars will be deposited.

Then came the gluing and clamping process. It will take several days to get Porky laminated to the point where I can begin to shape and carve some features into him.



We spent a quiet evening last night on Pentoga Road. With the wind blowing and the temperature dropping, the house seemed chilly. Sargie and I were happy to sit near the the wood stove.

Sargie closes the Vision Center tonight. I'm going for my usual walk then will start a fire in the wood furnace. Hopefully, it will take this time. While it's warming the shop, I'll make one more drive to town in an effort to purchase the wheel bearings needed for Sargie's Kia. 

Mike and the boys will be coming to the camp sometime today in anticipation of tomorrow's opening of deer season. When I'm not working in the shop, I hope to catch up with the camp news, sip some coffee, and listen to a few stories.

I've agreed to substitute teach on Thursday and Friday. Tomorrow I'll be the middle school language arts teacher and Friday, the high school business teacher. Certainly it's not the best way to spend the opening of deer season, but definitely more profitable.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...