A few more....

of my favorite criminal photos:

First off, this gentleman is in the Executive Advancement class at his local community college. Nothing wrong with that, but the neck tattoo might hold him back from reaching the top of his class.


Looks like someone was resistinggggggggg


SWEET HAIR


Holy crap, this guy is either huge or they need him to step back from the camera


And finally, it appears a nine year old was arrested.

It is what it is.

That is my new life's motto. Doesn't sound all that encouraging, but it's realistic, and that is what I am, a realist. I understand life isn't always what we want it to be. I know that wishes, dreams and prayers don't always turn out the way we think they should. I prayed alot that my mom wouldn't die from the terrible disease that had taken over her body, but she did, probably for HER best. I prayed that my dad wouldn't die from the same disease a year later, but he did, probably for HIS best. Neither of these were in MY best interest, I was loosing a link to my childhood, grandparents for my kids, advice from people who had been there and just the love that they had for me. Love isn't always enough. I spent the next 10 years watching people I loved die, not as up close and personal as being at my mom and dad's bedside when they passed, but still having the ache of loosing a beloved family member. There was nothing I could do about it, it was what it was. That is the way life is, there are so many things that are out of your control, and you just watch from the side lines, and pray. I'm spending a lot of time praying lately, but it is what it is. I'm doing a lot of kid things, alone, but it is what it is. I'm sleeping alone alot, but it is what it is. I'm running all over town trying to get kids dropped off, picked up, to practices, to games, trying to keep my Iowa grass from growing over my head and trying to feed the kids well enough so they don't all end up with scurvy, or worse, but it is what it is. I'm in charge of a lot, but in control of little. I'm concerned for my future, but all I can do is pray, love and then pray some more. To all of you who have provided food, support and childcare, thanks. I would be up that creek without a paddle if it weren't for you. If I haven't thanked you in person, it isn't for the lack of wanting to, just the lack of time. I'm looking forward to the day when life is back to "normal," whatever that is. I guess it will be what it will be.

Are you wearing THAT?

There is one thing I am most certainly not, and that is "fancy." I am uncomfortable in situations that a suit or nice clothes are required. I have one sport coat that I wear, but it doesn't see the exterior of my closet very often. It's one of those funeral/wedding coats. In fact, I'd prefer to be buried in my favorite outfit, jeans and a t-shirt, maybe a big Afro wig on my head, just to make people laugh. I say all of that, to set up my night last night. The guy I'm with suggested we go to a place he had been to before for dinner. He went to the front desk to get directions, but came back with a list of places, and 2 that were starred to choose from. I read the descriptions and knew I was in trouble. The first one said reservations suggested and the other said semi-formal. I'm wearing jeans and a pull over jacket, hardly reservation worthy and most certainly not semi-formal. In fact, you might say I was semi-semi-semi-formal, there wasn't a place on the sheet that suggested that they were more suited to serve me. I had suggested PF Changes, which is right across the street from the hotel, but apparently he wasn't interested. We picked out the reservation place and headed out, without a reservation. When we pulled up, I knew I was in trouble, valet parking. The parking lot was full of BMW's and the like, we have a nice Nissan, but we are self parking. I've never felt so awkward in my life. The attire was suits and at least collard shirts, with dress pants. Here I stroll in with jeans, high society. I looked into the dinning room and saw that it was pretty empty, so I figured we would at least be able to get a table. The guy at the desk was nice enough, but took us down to "the bar" where we were seated. I'm guessing if I was dressed better or if the guy I was with was a girl with nice cleavage, we would be sitting in the dinning room, but I can't say for sure. And Felix most definitely does not have nice cleavage. We were seated in stall two of the mens room. OK, maybe we weren't all the way into the mens room, but we could hold the door open for you. Second thing that made me realize I was out of my element, the wine list was longer than the food menu, by far. The wine list was about 10 pages, the food menu was 2 pages. Luckily, they had a New York Strip steak, which is my favorite cut, so I jumped on that for $32.50. We did get a roll included with that price, so that makes it better. The salad was good and they bring you a topping bar, which consisted of beets, black olives, blue cheese crumbles, croutons and sardines. This had to be the oddest combination I could ever think of. Perhaps this is what "jeans people" eat. Or perhaps they were cleaning out the fridge. Then they brought out a baked potato topping bar, which consisted of melted cheese, sour cream and bacon crumbles. There was all ready butter on the table, so these choices made a lot more sense. My steak was great, the service was fantastic, but we got out as soon as I could get Felix going and my comfort level returned to normal. I hope tonight that we can make a less dressy choice, perhaps I will suggest the White Castle I found, a mere 20 minutes away:)

Hello Ohio!

I’m traveling for work again, this time to Akron, Ohio. As I write this, I’m sitting in the Cleveland airport waiting for my co-worker from CT to arrive so we can head to the hotel. I’ve never met him, so hopefully we can figure out who is who so we can get going. I usually go with a guy named John, but his father passed away, so now I’m going with Felix. I’ll miss seeing John, we work well together and I haven’t seen him in awhile.
The thing I like about traveling is seeing new places that I have never seen before. I flew into Minneapolis, MN, which is a city I’ve been to numerous times, but this is the first time I have flown into the airport. I’d love to say it was the best airport I had ever been to, but I only saw B concourse and a small food court, hardly worth devoting an entire blog to. While at the food court, I saw a guy in full camo and knee high leather boots. I’m not sure if he was a gay hunter or a member of a Village People cover band. The one thing I noticed about the airport was that there were 20 seats in the gate waiting area. This wasn’t a huge plane, but trust me, it held more than 20 people. Most of us had to lean against a wall or sit on the floor while we waited, not fun. I’m always amazed at how fast people fall asleep and then start snoring once we get on board. Luckily, the girl sitting next to me didn’t snore, she even checked with me when she woke up. Another thing I noticed, most places look the same from the air. Des Moines looks like Minneapolis which looks like Cleveland, from the air. Only if there are large buildings or landmarks, can you tell you aren’t in Kansas anymore. There is a comfort in that. The houses in Cleveland look just like the cookie cutter houses in West Des Moines. Most people hate that, I find it comforting. The patchwork fields look so cool from the air, and they are the same as South Africa. Luckily, the flight from Des Moines to Minneapolis is short, so you don’t gain too much altitude. This allowed me to see the wind farms of northern Iowa from the air. If you drive that route, you can see so many of these huge towers, but from the air, you can see how many of them there are and how they are spaced and how they sit in comparison to the towns nearby. Really cool.
The things I like about hotel life. First, someone cleans my room every day. That’s a no brainer, everyone likes that. Second, full control of the heating cooling. Right now, my room is set at 68 degrees, something I could never do at home. Third, quiet. It can be so quiet. I can actually listen to the TV at a low volume instead of at home where I have to blast it to be heard over the kids. Fourth, and probably most important, food delivered to your door. The hotels I stay at have a card you can fill out at night for your morning menu. Then, hang it on the door and awake to a fine breakfast. I try to get up a little early and get dressed before they show up, but I’m sure they have delivered to someone who hadn’t quite got that far in their day. Maybe something interesting will happen at my warehouse and I’ll have something to write about, but probably not.

Hey Abbotttttttttt!

Today was an early morning, hitting the disc golf course that is near my house. It's a little 9 hole course with big elevation changes, but pretty open. One of the goals have for myself is to keep the disc's out of the woods. On this course, that is almost an impossibility. Today, I actually tossed one through the trees and into the creek. I'm not one to let that go, so I headed into the woods to claim it. I knew the general area it went, so I looked for a way to get from the ledge, down to the water, about a 2 foot drop. The creek isn't very wide, but I have no ability to jump, too old, too white. I finally found what appeared to be the only spot that had a landing area, but it looked like it might be a little muddy. I was out of options, so I jumped. I was not aware that there was quicksand in Iowa and I was not prepared for the depth of which my feet would sink. My entire foot and a majority of my ankle was buried. I quickly pulled my feet out and scrambled up the bank. Here is a shot of where I landed, I went back and took a picture later.

You can see the deep holes that my fat ass pushed into the mud when I hurled my body over the ledge. And here is my shoe:

I was able to pull my disc out of the water, dried it off and tossed it in the direction of the basket, which I couldn't see from my position, in the woods and several feet below the elevation of the basket. Next problem, how do I get back. I can't go the way I came, not a chance in hell that I can jump UP the drop I jumped down. Not in a million years. I can't scurry up the bank on the other side of the creek, it drops straight into the water. I start walking down the creek, looking for a place to cross. Nothing. I see a tree that had fallen, or was placed, over the creek and try it out, but change my mind due to the fact that the limb was pretty narrow. I walk further down and find a thicker tree and decide this is my only chance, unless I want to hike deeper into the woods. I start to cross and I'm happy to see a limb sticking up that I can use for balance. I grab a hold as I climb up on the tree and the damn thing breaks off in my hand, leaving me to balance without anything to hold on to. At that moment, I realized that I hadn't told anyone where I was. Marcy knew I was playing disc golf, but I was planning on going to another course, but changed my mind at the last minute because it was so cold. If I fall off this tree, even though it is only about 3 feet above the water, I would probably end up hurting myself and drowning in this little creek, very embarrassing way to go. I started across the tree, no turning back now. After making it across, I took this picture of my "bridge."

The whole thing made me feel like I was in an old Abbott and Costello movie, if it could go wrong, it would. Just when I thought my bad luck was over, I went to the next hole and slipped on some wet grass. Don't worry, my elbow broke my fall. Now, on top of my shoes being muddy, now my pants were to:

These 2 holes took me 20 minutes to play, a record slow pace for me. The rest of the morning was very relaxing and enjoyable. There were a couple of woodpeckers that I stopped and watched for awhile. I watched a little finch looking bird fly right next to me and hop around on some low branches. A very enjoyable morning. A few things that you might not know, disc golf can be a dangerous sport. What's that? You ask why I would say something like that, since there is no way this is a dangerous sport. Tell that to the poor sap that lost his life on hole 6.

Another thing that you always have to keep an eye out for, is snakes. Now I haven't seen one on any of the courses, but there are plenty of sticks that appear to be snakes, just enough to give me a scare.


OK, as I look at them now, they don't appear to resemble a snake, but at the time, they did. There were a few odd things on the course. The first was, somebody dug a hole in the middle of the fareway on hole one. This is a public park and I have no idea what someone would be digging for. I'm guessing there isn't any buried treasure, but maybe they were looking for Indian artifacts.

Speaking of that, I found that this park was the stomping ground of the Coors Indians.

Apparently the Coors Indians are unaware of how to hang their containers from the trees and instead just throw them on the ground. The second strange thing was a guy pulled into the parking lot at 8:30am and sat there with his windows rolled up and his music blasting. I thought he might be waiting for someone, but nobody ever showed and he eventually drove off. Seemed odd to me. I said I would do a public service and show lost items here, so if they are yours, you can claim them. First up, this fine, bright orange, glove, found on hole one.

Next up, I found this stylish flip-flop:

After an exhaustive search, I was unable to locate its match. It appears its owner was traveling down the trail located right behind it, but I can't be sure.

And finally, I realized that when I play alone, I tend to celebrate and complain out loud. This is fine for most of the holes, but several run right along a sidewalk and I was busted complaining about a bad shot. Seeing as how there are a lot of trees in the area, I just yelled for "Bob" to see how bad my shot was. I'm not sure if the woman bought my cover and believed me that there was another person in the area, but at least I learned to watch my mouth in that area.

Discovery

If you know me, you know that the only "sport" I play anymore is disc golf. I put the quotes there because I'm not 100% sure you can throw it in the sport category. I guess if golf is a sport, disc golf gets to be a sport as well. I use to play quite regularly, but life over the last few years has made that a bit harder. I have decided that I'm going to make an effort to play more often, including getting up for just that purpose on Saturdays. Baseball season is starting next week for Mason, so some Saturdays will be difficult, but I'll see what I can do. I don't do anything for me, so it's about time I start. This past Saturday, I got up at 7am and headed to a course north of town that I really enjoy. When I arrived, the gates to the park were shut and locked, not a good start. There is another course about 15 minutes away, so I decided to hit that one instead. This is my least favorite course in Des Moines because the fairways are so narrow, it doesn't bode well for my throwing style, which is wing-it and pray. I've found on several visits, that once you put it in the thick weeds on one side, your are pretty much guaranteed to be going back and forth across the fairway instead of down it, towards the basket. I have a knack of turning a par three hole into a 15 shot hole, which really screws up your score card. Once you've gone 12 throws over what you should have, on just one hole, the rest of your 18 holes just aren't going to be able to make that up. The course is at Big Creek State Park, and it is 18 holes that run through some really thick tree/bush areas, then opens up for the last 6 holes, right by the lake. As I approached the second hole, I noticed some thing in the tree's, so I decided to investigate. There, hanging from a branch, was what appeared to be a liquid caring device, I'm guessing left by some ancient Indian tribe. On further inspection, I noticed that the tribe had actually labeled the container with their tribe name, "Budweiser." I'm guessing this is some sort of German Indian tribe, but my searches on the Internet have since sent me on a whole different trail. I snapped a picture, here it is:

My original thought was that a local person who was so lazy, that he couldn't carry out of the park this said container, now void of it's contents and therefore lighter, so he stuck it on the end of a branch. No, that wouldn't be right, so I tossed that theory and stuck with this one, which I will now unfold to you.

I continued my trip onto other holes and realized, this wasn't an isolated incident. On nearly every hole, I saw evidence the the Bud's had been there. I knew this was the tribes nickname, because it was on several of the containers. Here are a few shots, I hope you can see them in the tree's.




You may have noticed that there was a second kind of container, this one made of a thin type of metal, I'm assuming they pounded on a stone to make flat and then shaped it into the useful caring device.


I found all of this fascinating, as you can tell by the number of pictures, so I continued on and realized something. The Budweiser's weren't alone. As I found out, there were several other tribes, which I can only guess left their own containers as a warning to the Bud's, "We are here, looking to take over." I couldn't say that for sure, I'm not up on my Iowa Indian tribe history, but here are a few of the tribes:

There is the Miller tribe


The Premium tribe


And the Smithwick's tribe

Since the Indians were no where to be found, I assume there was a battle, and from all that I can tell, the Budweiser's won, just on sheer numbers. It's funny that all of the tribes chose to display their containers in the same fashion, I'd love to know the reason behind it, but alas, that was from a time long ago and the Indians were not around for me to ask. I know what you are thinking. "This guy is an idiot, he thinks these were Indian tribes?" For those that mock, check out the Indian bracelet I found that must have been lost during the Big Earth Ending Rumble.

Ya, that is what I thought, apology accepted. Try to do some research before you judge my exploring and observations, it makes you look like a fool.

If only the Indians would have known that there is a $.05 return on all containers in Iowa, they could have turned in all of these and been $.45 richer.

The rest of my time spent there was quite enjoyable, but was a roller coaster of emotions. I'm glad I play, but when you toss a disc and it goes know where near where you had wanted it to go, you say a few things that might not be appropriate if the kids are around. Like a golfer, I know what to do, how to do it and the best and proper way to get the disc where I want it. It's the fricking execution that I can't seem to get right. Then I get so frustrated, and I play this game to RELAX! I actually do find a great sense of relaxation walking in the woods on an early morn, just me and the fox I saw, the deer I saw and the rabbit crap I put my hand in when I squatted down to take a shot from under a tree.

This might not look so bad, but you have to remember, I'm squatting down, so that bald spot at the bottom of the tree is about 3 feet high. The picture makes it appear that I am standing and the clear area is 7 to 8 feet, but I assure you, it isn't. Of the 27 holes I played, it took me 18 holes to get warmed up, then I threw 2 good holes and then the remaining 7 were a complete embarrassment to the sport. My best shot of the day? A disc flew what I walked off as 24 paces, so about a 48 foot distance, and went into the basket. I yelled to celebrate, but was alone, so you will just have to take my word for it. Here is a picture from where I threw it, I hope you can see the basket I actually landed in.

My heart breaker of the day? A 21 pace shot that landed here:

Oh well, I still par'd the whole. At the end of the round, I noticed that I was bleeding, an injury do to the fact that I haven't played in awhile, so my lady like fingers are a bit soft.


As a public service, I'll also identify and post pictures of lost items I find along the course and post them here so if the item is yours, you can go claim your lost treasure. First item, a sippy cup.

It looks like it's still in pretty good condition, but appears to have been chewed on by a beaver at some point during the winter. However, it could have just been your kid chewing on it, so don't give up on this quality item. It is located on the left side of the fareway on hole number one, about 30 paces south of the rabbit crap I put my hand in.

And finally, the cutest fire hydrant you'll ever see.