I'm taking an accreditation quiz online right now. I must say open ended questions that focus on the recipient's opinions about skill development and strategy are not appropriate for a quiz that I paid money to take. Boo.
Buck
Friday, June 18, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Tonka
Tonka has died. As in...Tot. Dead. Pushing daisies. Worm food.
It is a sad day, but it is also a depressing day. I'm chatting up some guys around here that are looking to offload vehicles. But I have to also consider housing expenses, bills, tuition...
Armed services is looking better and better at the moment.
It is a sad day, but it is also a depressing day. I'm chatting up some guys around here that are looking to offload vehicles. But I have to also consider housing expenses, bills, tuition...
Armed services is looking better and better at the moment.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
workin' double shifts...
Hey folksies.
Lot of stuff has been happening since last I threw something up here.
- I am now a nationally accredited volleyball coach.
- We have first hay cut, baled, and stored
- We have three lambs
- We lost a calf
-Went to Nebraska for a wedding
- Planning an orientation for school
- Went to Atlantic to meet the other side of the sister's family.
- Bought my grandfather a beer
- Caught up with three of my best friends
- Planning a trip to Illinois to do some suit shopping.
- Lost the lottery.
That's about it. As I still have to work on this gray and rainy day, I need to wrap this up. Hopefully I'll update with greater frequency now that first cutting is done, but coaching is picking up again so... We'll see.
Buck
Lot of stuff has been happening since last I threw something up here.
- I am now a nationally accredited volleyball coach.
- We have first hay cut, baled, and stored
- We have three lambs
- We lost a calf
-Went to Nebraska for a wedding
- Planning an orientation for school
- Went to Atlantic to meet the other side of the sister's family.
- Bought my grandfather a beer
- Caught up with three of my best friends
- Planning a trip to Illinois to do some suit shopping.
- Lost the lottery.
That's about it. As I still have to work on this gray and rainy day, I need to wrap this up. Hopefully I'll update with greater frequency now that first cutting is done, but coaching is picking up again so... We'll see.
Buck
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Live in a Hoover
Dad was right.
My father and I aren't particularly what you might call close. We chat now and again, but for the most part we are fairly similar. We could go months without talking to one another and still pick up a conversation that we had the last time. He has always told me that he is available for commentary and advice on issues going on in my life.
The advice that he has given me over time I have usually followed. For the most part he knows this, or is at least aware that something is different and it doesn't make his ire rise so he doesn't care.
I can remember vividly asking him why our neighbor always took such good care of his yard. By good care, I'm fairly certain that Jack was OCD when it came to his lawn. Dad replied, "You'll understand that taking care of a yard is nice". I probably rolled my eyes, or snorted, or made a lippy reply like, "No it isn't, if you think that you can take care of it".
Recently, I've picked up some lawn care jobs as I have some more free time. Spreading mulch, mowing, edging, pruning, etc. Most of these jobs are in the "rich" district of DM, and I can charge an arm and a leg for my services. Customers provide equipment, I come in on my days off when they are at work do my thing and the customer comes home to a pretty yard.
I still find the work itself tedious. Given the choices of mowing, or fishing I would take fishing 11 times out of 5. But, the extra cash flow is very nice. It is also nice to get out of my house, away from work, and actually work. When I try to work at work people keep talking to me. Nobody talks to a guy who's sweating, has a beard, and is mowing a lawn. I like that.
But in all honesty tedious work is sometimes the best work. When the mower is running everything else is drowned out, I can plan things, I can organize my thoughts, I can have original thoughts. I really like that.
I've always enjoyed fishing with my Dad. Especially when he took me out with him on the boat. Or we would walk to the pond by Opa and Oma. It was just us. There was kind of an unspoken rule that we could talk about anything during fishing time. Looking back mostly what we did was fish, or sit and have piece of mind while not catching anything. Those were the times that I feel that we really bonded. Gone were the sports where he was my teacher and most times my coach. Gone was the aspect of him being the disciplinarian/father. He was just another guy fishing. Sometimes we would swap more than five sentences, but somehow we were bonding.
I can't really explain it other than that.
Now that I've "grown up", or "matured" I still think of all the advice of his, or sayings/cliches that he would impart on the kids and use it/them more than I'll even admit to myself.
Guess that's part of reaching adult, or achieving utter insanity. I'm not positive which one will come first, but I do know that whatever course my life takes I'll have fond memories.
I suppose I'm writing this because of a song I heard on the radio. A song I've heard many times, and every time I start to well up. Conway Twitty - That's My Job.
Buck
My father and I aren't particularly what you might call close. We chat now and again, but for the most part we are fairly similar. We could go months without talking to one another and still pick up a conversation that we had the last time. He has always told me that he is available for commentary and advice on issues going on in my life.
The advice that he has given me over time I have usually followed. For the most part he knows this, or is at least aware that something is different and it doesn't make his ire rise so he doesn't care.
I can remember vividly asking him why our neighbor always took such good care of his yard. By good care, I'm fairly certain that Jack was OCD when it came to his lawn. Dad replied, "You'll understand that taking care of a yard is nice". I probably rolled my eyes, or snorted, or made a lippy reply like, "No it isn't, if you think that you can take care of it".
Recently, I've picked up some lawn care jobs as I have some more free time. Spreading mulch, mowing, edging, pruning, etc. Most of these jobs are in the "rich" district of DM, and I can charge an arm and a leg for my services. Customers provide equipment, I come in on my days off when they are at work do my thing and the customer comes home to a pretty yard.
I still find the work itself tedious. Given the choices of mowing, or fishing I would take fishing 11 times out of 5. But, the extra cash flow is very nice. It is also nice to get out of my house, away from work, and actually work. When I try to work at work people keep talking to me. Nobody talks to a guy who's sweating, has a beard, and is mowing a lawn. I like that.
But in all honesty tedious work is sometimes the best work. When the mower is running everything else is drowned out, I can plan things, I can organize my thoughts, I can have original thoughts. I really like that.
I've always enjoyed fishing with my Dad. Especially when he took me out with him on the boat. Or we would walk to the pond by Opa and Oma. It was just us. There was kind of an unspoken rule that we could talk about anything during fishing time. Looking back mostly what we did was fish, or sit and have piece of mind while not catching anything. Those were the times that I feel that we really bonded. Gone were the sports where he was my teacher and most times my coach. Gone was the aspect of him being the disciplinarian/father. He was just another guy fishing. Sometimes we would swap more than five sentences, but somehow we were bonding.
I can't really explain it other than that.
Now that I've "grown up", or "matured" I still think of all the advice of his, or sayings/cliches that he would impart on the kids and use it/them more than I'll even admit to myself.
Guess that's part of reaching adult, or achieving utter insanity. I'm not positive which one will come first, but I do know that whatever course my life takes I'll have fond memories.
I suppose I'm writing this because of a song I heard on the radio. A song I've heard many times, and every time I start to well up. Conway Twitty - That's My Job.
Buck
Saturday, April 24, 2010
'S Golden
Here I am, sitting at a desk that is unused trying to tune out the screaming children, the drunk adults, the obnoxious music, and above all the in-courteous behavior of the people at this rental.
Usually I'm a very even keel kind of guy. I've learned to bite my tongue, mostly because arguing just makes you look like a fool. However, maybe because of my upbringing, or maybe it is something hardwired into my personality, I strongly believe in common sense and courtesy.
Even if you are not a good human being, it does not take much to be polite. I don't demand other people's respect. Especially if I don't know them and will never see them again. But, we are all human beings. There is something called a golden rule, and it does not matter if you are religious or not. Think of it as self-preservation, or decency, or however your want to. Boil it down and you're asking yourself a question: Do I want to be in their shoes?
Being myself I of course have examples. When don't I? Let us take a minute and walk through them, shall we? (I feel like I should be changing into some house shoes and a cardigan)
Example the first:
Yesterday morning I finalized my transcripts and testing at DMACC for my enrollment. I was told exactly what I already knew: My math scores are not exemplary. Ok, fine, now what? I really don't want to take another math class so I inquired as to my options. I was told to go to building 6 which is sort of a library, student study center, tutor hot line...building. I walked in the doors, saw a sign that said "Math Department", walked right up to the nice lady behind the desk and asked if she had a minute.
She looked up, smiled, said sure. I explained my situation to her and informed her that I was there to take a Math Test Thing-ama-jigger. She gave me a blank stare and told me that she needed more information. I explained that she had all the information I had, and that I was equally confused. She then went on to explain how she was in a car wreck the week before, and still wasn't feeling well, how she had to put her dog down last month, and just basically rambled wasting my time for a good 10 minutes.
I smiled and nodded at the appropriate moments thinking how my two hour limit in the visitor parking was coming to a dramatic nail-biting climax. I asked her what she thought about me being able to test out of the math class that I will have to take for the degree. She asked me what my specific grades were in high school and college. I stammered and stuttered because, a grade that I got in 2001 was about as forefront in my mind as the impact of bee pollination patterns is in an oil-drillers mind. She picked up on that I'm guessing because she started writing problems out for me to solve.
Once she turned the paper around so I could read the hieroglyphics that she inscribed I of course looked at the problems, looked up at her, looked back down at the Sanskrit in front of me, and just kind of chuckled. Alright, in all honesty, it was a snort of derision. I sighed, mumbled a quick litany against fear, picked up the pen and tried my hardest to remember what Mrs. March tried to teach us back in Algebra 2 Trig. The only thing I could remember from the class was I sat behind a girl who's ponytail always fell on my desk and smelled like lilacs, and Chris Sessca sitting next to me eating supermarket sushi.
I fumbled my way through the first equation, worked my way through FOILing, then almost peed my pants trying to figure out a quadratic equation. All of this in my head, with gross random numbers. Finally after sweating bullets I turned the paper around and said shakily, "Maybe?" The lady behind the desk scoffed and said, "Those were easy ones, and there is no maybe in math." The second part of the statement might very well be true, but when a letter is also a number something is suspect in my mind. The first part of her statement stun a lot. I don't like being wrong. I'll admit it happens, but I don't like it.
After offering what I felt was a legitimate reason for my lack of stellar high school math skills, namely: I don't have a head for numbers. I like high ways that are the same digits because I can't confuse them. Street numbers? No chance of my getting them right the first 28 times I try to get there. This lady would just not get off my case, she kept "Psh-ing" and "Harrumph-ing" my poor math skills. She actually said "Harrumph". I thought it was just a Mel Brooks line, but no! People apparently actually do use that word sound. Anyway, after degrading me further and further on skills I know are rusty at best, she said, "Well, can you at least add and subtract?"
Now right there I wanted to stand up, thank her for her time, and wish her a pleasant stay in Hell where she obviously has central air. But, I bit my tongue and tried to make a joke out of it, "Adding that's where the number gets smaller right?" She didn't laugh. She then insulted me even further by putting down basic problems on the paper. At least there weren't letters involved this time. But still, "2+3...5+1...etc." a tad bit insulting. I didn't even pick up the pen for that one, looked her in the eye and said, "I know that one!" She kept testing my basic math skills to find out that, yes I might be slow with it, but I can do it and do it well.
After a couple of more minutes of banter, and barbed words she told me to go take the Compass Math test. I said, "Ok, where? When? How much does it cost?" She informed me that there was no cost, it was just down the hall, and as soon as I could get down there. I thanked her for her time, and happily left the cubicle where even a Care-Bear would feel like he was in a brier patch with barbed wire on top, with and oil fire on top of that.
As of right now, I am self teaching all of the basic algebra skills that I failed on the test so that when I re-take it I will pass and not have to spend money on a lecture class where I will not learn a darn thing.
I still hate math.
Example the second:
Tonight. Tonight I have the ultimate power on the farms, I'm the closing manager as it were. I have been at this rental all day so far, or at least it seems like that. The guys that speak broken English keep asking if I've eaten, if I want a drink, if I want to take a shot...at least that's what I think they're asking. Anyway. I've been yelling at the hooligan children all day to not run around in the back of the building as it is adjacent to the town, and there's a lot of space in which to get lost, hurt, or die. I realize that I'm using the wrong psychology with these first graders, but still...a little respect for elders would be nice. Finally I broke down grabbed a kid by the feet hung him upside down in front of my face and said to his friends, "If you don't want him dropped on his head and you take the blame for it, run around in the parking lot, not back here". They seemed to pick up on what I was saying pretty quickly after that.
Their parents on the other hand are a completely different story. They're smoking on the patio which, I don't have a big problem with but leaving beers, unfinished plates of food, a shoe, and I also found a Radio Flyer Wagon. I was about to yell at them, but they scurried off quicker than roaches when you flip on a light. Maybe because I was already upset with the kids, and playing Molly Maid to drunken idiots, or maybe because I'm 6 inches taller than the tallest person here. I don't know which is the reason but they ran off. All but one. He calmly walked up to the board walk and I heard, "zip". I thought to myself, "You've gotta be kidding, you're freakin' 50 feet away from the head." I gave a shout of "Hey! You want me to pee on your front door?"
He looked up and acted like all he was doing was stretching, like a kid in a classroom who forgot what they were going to say and quickly recovers with, "I was just stretching". Now, I'm not a teacher, at least not at a school, and I don't like blatant lies to my face, so I kind of ripped into him a bit. He pee-dance-walked to the bathroom while I was following him the entire way carrying a garbage bag ready to burst. Right over the dance floor. It was great, and oddly cathartic.
Those are my examples.
Courtesy: doesn't take much. Politeness: Even less. When you doubt if you're doing the right thing just think, "Do I want them peeing on my front door?"
Buck
Usually I'm a very even keel kind of guy. I've learned to bite my tongue, mostly because arguing just makes you look like a fool. However, maybe because of my upbringing, or maybe it is something hardwired into my personality, I strongly believe in common sense and courtesy.
Even if you are not a good human being, it does not take much to be polite. I don't demand other people's respect. Especially if I don't know them and will never see them again. But, we are all human beings. There is something called a golden rule, and it does not matter if you are religious or not. Think of it as self-preservation, or decency, or however your want to. Boil it down and you're asking yourself a question: Do I want to be in their shoes?
Being myself I of course have examples. When don't I? Let us take a minute and walk through them, shall we? (I feel like I should be changing into some house shoes and a cardigan)
Example the first:
Yesterday morning I finalized my transcripts and testing at DMACC for my enrollment. I was told exactly what I already knew: My math scores are not exemplary. Ok, fine, now what? I really don't want to take another math class so I inquired as to my options. I was told to go to building 6 which is sort of a library, student study center, tutor hot line...building. I walked in the doors, saw a sign that said "Math Department", walked right up to the nice lady behind the desk and asked if she had a minute.
She looked up, smiled, said sure. I explained my situation to her and informed her that I was there to take a Math Test Thing-ama-jigger. She gave me a blank stare and told me that she needed more information. I explained that she had all the information I had, and that I was equally confused. She then went on to explain how she was in a car wreck the week before, and still wasn't feeling well, how she had to put her dog down last month, and just basically rambled wasting my time for a good 10 minutes.
I smiled and nodded at the appropriate moments thinking how my two hour limit in the visitor parking was coming to a dramatic nail-biting climax. I asked her what she thought about me being able to test out of the math class that I will have to take for the degree. She asked me what my specific grades were in high school and college. I stammered and stuttered because, a grade that I got in 2001 was about as forefront in my mind as the impact of bee pollination patterns is in an oil-drillers mind. She picked up on that I'm guessing because she started writing problems out for me to solve.
Once she turned the paper around so I could read the hieroglyphics that she inscribed I of course looked at the problems, looked up at her, looked back down at the Sanskrit in front of me, and just kind of chuckled. Alright, in all honesty, it was a snort of derision. I sighed, mumbled a quick litany against fear, picked up the pen and tried my hardest to remember what Mrs. March tried to teach us back in Algebra 2 Trig. The only thing I could remember from the class was I sat behind a girl who's ponytail always fell on my desk and smelled like lilacs, and Chris Sessca sitting next to me eating supermarket sushi.
I fumbled my way through the first equation, worked my way through FOILing, then almost peed my pants trying to figure out a quadratic equation. All of this in my head, with gross random numbers. Finally after sweating bullets I turned the paper around and said shakily, "Maybe?" The lady behind the desk scoffed and said, "Those were easy ones, and there is no maybe in math." The second part of the statement might very well be true, but when a letter is also a number something is suspect in my mind. The first part of her statement stun a lot. I don't like being wrong. I'll admit it happens, but I don't like it.
After offering what I felt was a legitimate reason for my lack of stellar high school math skills, namely: I don't have a head for numbers. I like high ways that are the same digits because I can't confuse them. Street numbers? No chance of my getting them right the first 28 times I try to get there. This lady would just not get off my case, she kept "Psh-ing" and "Harrumph-ing" my poor math skills. She actually said "Harrumph". I thought it was just a Mel Brooks line, but no! People apparently actually do use that word sound. Anyway, after degrading me further and further on skills I know are rusty at best, she said, "Well, can you at least add and subtract?"
Now right there I wanted to stand up, thank her for her time, and wish her a pleasant stay in Hell where she obviously has central air. But, I bit my tongue and tried to make a joke out of it, "Adding that's where the number gets smaller right?" She didn't laugh. She then insulted me even further by putting down basic problems on the paper. At least there weren't letters involved this time. But still, "2+3...5+1...etc." a tad bit insulting. I didn't even pick up the pen for that one, looked her in the eye and said, "I know that one!" She kept testing my basic math skills to find out that, yes I might be slow with it, but I can do it and do it well.
After a couple of more minutes of banter, and barbed words she told me to go take the Compass Math test. I said, "Ok, where? When? How much does it cost?" She informed me that there was no cost, it was just down the hall, and as soon as I could get down there. I thanked her for her time, and happily left the cubicle where even a Care-Bear would feel like he was in a brier patch with barbed wire on top, with and oil fire on top of that.
As of right now, I am self teaching all of the basic algebra skills that I failed on the test so that when I re-take it I will pass and not have to spend money on a lecture class where I will not learn a darn thing.
I still hate math.
Example the second:
Tonight. Tonight I have the ultimate power on the farms, I'm the closing manager as it were. I have been at this rental all day so far, or at least it seems like that. The guys that speak broken English keep asking if I've eaten, if I want a drink, if I want to take a shot...at least that's what I think they're asking. Anyway. I've been yelling at the hooligan children all day to not run around in the back of the building as it is adjacent to the town, and there's a lot of space in which to get lost, hurt, or die. I realize that I'm using the wrong psychology with these first graders, but still...a little respect for elders would be nice. Finally I broke down grabbed a kid by the feet hung him upside down in front of my face and said to his friends, "If you don't want him dropped on his head and you take the blame for it, run around in the parking lot, not back here". They seemed to pick up on what I was saying pretty quickly after that.
Their parents on the other hand are a completely different story. They're smoking on the patio which, I don't have a big problem with but leaving beers, unfinished plates of food, a shoe, and I also found a Radio Flyer Wagon. I was about to yell at them, but they scurried off quicker than roaches when you flip on a light. Maybe because I was already upset with the kids, and playing Molly Maid to drunken idiots, or maybe because I'm 6 inches taller than the tallest person here. I don't know which is the reason but they ran off. All but one. He calmly walked up to the board walk and I heard, "zip". I thought to myself, "You've gotta be kidding, you're freakin' 50 feet away from the head." I gave a shout of "Hey! You want me to pee on your front door?"
He looked up and acted like all he was doing was stretching, like a kid in a classroom who forgot what they were going to say and quickly recovers with, "I was just stretching". Now, I'm not a teacher, at least not at a school, and I don't like blatant lies to my face, so I kind of ripped into him a bit. He pee-dance-walked to the bathroom while I was following him the entire way carrying a garbage bag ready to burst. Right over the dance floor. It was great, and oddly cathartic.
Those are my examples.
Courtesy: doesn't take much. Politeness: Even less. When you doubt if you're doing the right thing just think, "Do I want them peeing on my front door?"
Buck
Monday, April 19, 2010
Farms
Things are starting to really pick up. Gone are the days of waking up at 5 to enjoy a day packed full with...nothing. In are the days of working 14 hours and still not being completely tired. Just fatigued.
I've been jumping around not only LHF, but helping Kyle get his family farm ready to go this year, bouncing up to Ankeny for this school registration thing, driving out to Dallas Center to help Greg clear out his acreage, going out to Johnston to finalize volleyball stuff....It has been busy. Oh! And let us not forget fishing.
We have meetings and training starting tomorrow for the farm. I don't really know what more they're going to tell us, maybe some new procedure or something. Either way, I have a schedule for May, and I don't like it. Not one bit. I'm getting my 40 hours, but I don't get consecutive days off of work. Will make for an interesting time juggling jobs and social life.
Buck
I've been jumping around not only LHF, but helping Kyle get his family farm ready to go this year, bouncing up to Ankeny for this school registration thing, driving out to Dallas Center to help Greg clear out his acreage, going out to Johnston to finalize volleyball stuff....It has been busy. Oh! And let us not forget fishing.
We have meetings and training starting tomorrow for the farm. I don't really know what more they're going to tell us, maybe some new procedure or something. Either way, I have a schedule for May, and I don't like it. Not one bit. I'm getting my 40 hours, but I don't get consecutive days off of work. Will make for an interesting time juggling jobs and social life.
Buck
Friday, April 16, 2010
Play Ball
This past week has been awesome.
Let me explain...no, there is to much, let me sum up. Sam is out of the Farms. Bailey is in at ISU, Jessie is coming back to the Iowa region, coaching gear has to be turned in on Sunday, and best of all; Paul starts working his contract at 8 AM Saturday!
Three of my remaining bastions of sanity at the farms and I had a celebration of paychecks starting to come into my fairly well depleted bank account.
DG bought me a bottle of Port and a cigar (same kind that U.G. got me for Christmas), and CK bought me a 12 pack of beer, and a pouch of hand rolled cigars. JO gave me a hand forged damascus style knife that he and SC made in the blacksmith shop last year. ... Needless to say: It has been a great night.
The last three days I have spent all day fishing the ponds at the Farms. Over these days I have got 13 keepers and an additional 8 throw backs. Also a snapping turtle.
I sent a picture message on my phone to a couple of people of the first two keepers I caught with the message, "Got Dinner" Dad responded with good job, my coaching boss replied with, "Assh-le, I'm stuck inside all day." A girl that I've been dating replied with how jealous she was that I was fishing without her.
In any event, I start my 40 hours per week in a few hours and I'm very excited. Oats are already coming up, no winter wheat, and the soil is too cold to put corn in. '50 doesn't have any lambs, but hundred has 8, or 9.
That's all I've got.
Buck
Let me explain...no, there is to much, let me sum up. Sam is out of the Farms. Bailey is in at ISU, Jessie is coming back to the Iowa region, coaching gear has to be turned in on Sunday, and best of all; Paul starts working his contract at 8 AM Saturday!
Three of my remaining bastions of sanity at the farms and I had a celebration of paychecks starting to come into my fairly well depleted bank account.
DG bought me a bottle of Port and a cigar (same kind that U.G. got me for Christmas), and CK bought me a 12 pack of beer, and a pouch of hand rolled cigars. JO gave me a hand forged damascus style knife that he and SC made in the blacksmith shop last year. ... Needless to say: It has been a great night.
The last three days I have spent all day fishing the ponds at the Farms. Over these days I have got 13 keepers and an additional 8 throw backs. Also a snapping turtle.
I sent a picture message on my phone to a couple of people of the first two keepers I caught with the message, "Got Dinner" Dad responded with good job, my coaching boss replied with, "Assh-le, I'm stuck inside all day." A girl that I've been dating replied with how jealous she was that I was fishing without her.
In any event, I start my 40 hours per week in a few hours and I'm very excited. Oats are already coming up, no winter wheat, and the soil is too cold to put corn in. '50 doesn't have any lambs, but hundred has 8, or 9.
That's all I've got.
Buck
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