I am so excited about that '69 Mustang that I almost forgot about my blog. I will admit I'm just winging it because all my paperwork is packed and out of the way for the car show. Have no work to do (can't since it's packed) except collect more soccer forms as today is the deadline. I bet there still will be plenty coming in next week also.
I know there will be more. I do have a week grace period before I order t-shirts and with the car show, they probably won't come in over the weekend.
My daughter is coming up tomorrow and we'll come to the show. I plan on getting Henry Winkler's autograph. She'll crush any hopes of the car owners getting "Best of Show" with her judging abilities. She's pretty good at it. Impressive actually.
Her birthday is Monday. Seems like yesterday that she came into this world. Thinking the nurses weren't too crazy about her. The only time she was quiet at the hospital is when she was laying on my chest, they let me know it too. We're going to spend Monday together too so I won't be in to write anything.
Tom just left. I treat him and all the kids that work here like they are my own. I yell at them, worry about them, comfort them. discuss things with them, tell them how their parents may be feeling the way they do, or why we, as parents, do what we do, etc.
I couldn't tell you what we were talking about, Jeff, Hailee and myself but Hailee pipes up and says, "Gosh! You treat us like we're you're kids!" Jeff replied, "We are her kids!" He said it all. No need to elaborate.
I miss them when they're not around, especially Sarah. Sometimes they fight like siblings. I threaten to send them to different corners because I can't spank the ones that aren't mine. I have Clayton and Matt around to keep me occupied and in the "mom" mode. No one is safe whether they want it or not.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
The Car Show
I love the car show! My daughter and I plan on being here Saturday. We try to go together every year as part of her birthday (Feb. 28). You come in (pay), pick up a judging form and away you go! While I may like the color, style, presentation and how shiny they are, my daughter picks out the oversprays, dullness, dings, waves, bubbles, Bondo, the seams don't match. Harsh! I just think they're pretty.
A few years ago, a couple brought in a race car, they were the first ones here. They stopped in and asked where they could get something to eat, what I thought was good. We talked for quite some time. Come to find out they live in Liberty, maybe three miles from my folks. What a small world. They let me sit in their race car and she took my picture.
I was still sitting when another car pulled in. The two guys were asking me all sorts of questions about the car. It's a good thing I paid attention when the proud owners told me all about it. One of the guys wanted me to start it up. Darn! Blew my cover.
A friend of mine called once and said a fellow that he knew was bringing his motorcycle. He gave me all the information I needed. When he finally arrived, I made like I knew him, you could tell he was searching his file cabinet. I was giving him every chance in the book, places, events, but he still couldn't place me. I acted hurt, called him a s.o.b. He was very apologetic. Then I let him off the hook. It slowly dawned on him. It was a good thing too because I was going to tell him he owed me years of back child support. His dad thought it was funny.
That's some of the fun stuff.
The not so fun stuff is when the cars pull in, the exhaust almost kills me. I end up with a pounding headache. I have to clear the office. There are three desks and all have some level of works in progress on them. I put the papers in a box and hope I can remember where I put them. I have to replace more ceiling tiles and change more bulbs. Two fixtures had their bulbs and they weren't letting go. The car show people sent two guys down here, I helped them with the lift, he struggled getting one out and when he tried the other, it exploded. I knew I wasn't a weiner!
I vacuumed once but after I shove the desk over, I'll vacuum again. I still need to wash the office windows and take down the curtains. My high school slaves can help me remove all the tables, chairs, file cabinets, desks from senior dining since they moved to the church until next week. No lasagna but no brussel sprouts either.
The floor will have to be scrubbed...twice, afterwards. They make the floor slippery with their cleaners and polishes. The derby gals kept wiping out when they had practice. Okay, that's kind of funny.
Maybe one day my daughter will bring in my (now, hers later) '65 Mustang to show. It better have an outstanding paint job!
A few years ago, a couple brought in a race car, they were the first ones here. They stopped in and asked where they could get something to eat, what I thought was good. We talked for quite some time. Come to find out they live in Liberty, maybe three miles from my folks. What a small world. They let me sit in their race car and she took my picture.
I was still sitting when another car pulled in. The two guys were asking me all sorts of questions about the car. It's a good thing I paid attention when the proud owners told me all about it. One of the guys wanted me to start it up. Darn! Blew my cover.
A friend of mine called once and said a fellow that he knew was bringing his motorcycle. He gave me all the information I needed. When he finally arrived, I made like I knew him, you could tell he was searching his file cabinet. I was giving him every chance in the book, places, events, but he still couldn't place me. I acted hurt, called him a s.o.b. He was very apologetic. Then I let him off the hook. It slowly dawned on him. It was a good thing too because I was going to tell him he owed me years of back child support. His dad thought it was funny.
That's some of the fun stuff.
The not so fun stuff is when the cars pull in, the exhaust almost kills me. I end up with a pounding headache. I have to clear the office. There are three desks and all have some level of works in progress on them. I put the papers in a box and hope I can remember where I put them. I have to replace more ceiling tiles and change more bulbs. Two fixtures had their bulbs and they weren't letting go. The car show people sent two guys down here, I helped them with the lift, he struggled getting one out and when he tried the other, it exploded. I knew I wasn't a weiner!
I vacuumed once but after I shove the desk over, I'll vacuum again. I still need to wash the office windows and take down the curtains. My high school slaves can help me remove all the tables, chairs, file cabinets, desks from senior dining since they moved to the church until next week. No lasagna but no brussel sprouts either.
The floor will have to be scrubbed...twice, afterwards. They make the floor slippery with their cleaners and polishes. The derby gals kept wiping out when they had practice. Okay, that's kind of funny.
Maybe one day my daughter will bring in my (now, hers later) '65 Mustang to show. It better have an outstanding paint job!
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
The Call.
A park board member called. He was pulled aside the other night by a coach asking why we were redrafting the Little League teams. Let me make it clear we are redreafting ALL the teams in soccer, baseball/softball, flag football and basketball. The coaches will pick the kids on the baseball/softball teams. We will do the "pick a card, any card" form for the others. Though I ought to make them all come in and pick their own to avoid the "stacking of the teams" mentality. It's all about me not wanting to be here for another meeting, another two hour draft. Sometimes I like to go home at night.
Usually if your child was picked to play on the 2nd-3rd grade team in 2nd grade, he/she will stay on that team until they move into the next division where they would be picked to be on a different team and so on up the ladder. I think we redrafted our leagues three years ago before the Little League was given to the parks department.
Last year at the draft, this coach picked mostly 5th and 6th graders. You might be asking why he did that or why there were 5th and 6th graders in the draft. Some may be new kids, some maybe didn't want to play the year before or they might have missed the deadline. People miss the deadline all the time and as long as I haven't ordered the team's shirts, they can still get their form in and the team with the lowest count will have another player. When there is a kid who wants to sign up three weeks after the deadline when shirts are ordered, practices have started, no, I won't let him. I'm a meanie but maybe it'll teach them to either decide one way or the other or get their forms in on time. If it's a money issue ($20.00), sign them up but pay when you have it. Times are tough.
Why would he pick the older kids rather than going for the 4th graders? More power. I'm sure he thought if he had the older boys, they would clean everyones clock in the games. This also caused a no coach problem for the next year when he and his kid moved on to the next level. When 4th graders are picked, there's a parent that will assist and will stay coaching for the three years they are in Little League. One less thing I have to worry about.
Here's another trick they use. Mind you, not all but you sometimes forget about the good ones because the bad and ugly ones stick in your craw. Mr. Ugly Coach wants to coach. Fine. Well, Mr. Not-So-Bad wants to be his assistant so his son will also be on the same team, uh-huh. Sometimes another wants to help and pretty soon they're thinking they'll have a hand-picked team. I don't think so. Little League there is a coach. That's it. When you draft, maybe one of those kids parents will help you and we'll go from there.
The lower levels, you're the coach, you can have one assistant. Most parents have jobs and other kids that having an assistant is a good thing. I don't have a problem with that but that may change too.
Now, when the older kids leave a space on the roster by moving onto the next level, you have to fill it with mostly 4th graders coming in, unless I didn't let a 5th or 6th grader sign up. There's always that. Looking at the rosters from last year and using my handy-dandy highlighters, I mark the kids that are leaving. One team is practically wiped out. That means it'll be mostly 4th graders going against two teams with nine mostly 6th graders. Oh, wait! That team belonged to the Mr. Ugly Coach who picked all of the older kids! Thank you for messing that up. The other teams are pretty much even on the roster.
This is why we're redrafting. It's a safety issue. The teams are lopsided and 4th graders going against a live pitcher rather than a pitching machine can be dangerous. If it gets too scary for the parents, they won't let their kids play. We did have a broken nose last year when a ball tipped off a glove and hit the player square in the nose. But he came back and finished out the season. He was a tough 4th grader.
Mr. Ugly Coach thinks I'm doing this to make Mr. Good Coaches team better. Excuse me? Mr. Good Coach is the one who takes anybody and works with them. He doesn't care who he has. He treats all the kids the same. Mr.Good Coach will also have the last draft pick because his team won the championship. Mr. Good Coach is the one who stopped his son on base in a lower division, he didn't need to run up the score.
Another coach called and asked why and I told him, it's safety I'm concerned about. At least he called and asked ME. And yes, from now on we're redrafting every year. This was a park board member's idea and the rest agreed.
Mr. Ugly Coach and his kid aren't even in Little League. They moved up a notch and he's not even coaching. We'll just call him Mr. Ugly.
Usually if your child was picked to play on the 2nd-3rd grade team in 2nd grade, he/she will stay on that team until they move into the next division where they would be picked to be on a different team and so on up the ladder. I think we redrafted our leagues three years ago before the Little League was given to the parks department.
Last year at the draft, this coach picked mostly 5th and 6th graders. You might be asking why he did that or why there were 5th and 6th graders in the draft. Some may be new kids, some maybe didn't want to play the year before or they might have missed the deadline. People miss the deadline all the time and as long as I haven't ordered the team's shirts, they can still get their form in and the team with the lowest count will have another player. When there is a kid who wants to sign up three weeks after the deadline when shirts are ordered, practices have started, no, I won't let him. I'm a meanie but maybe it'll teach them to either decide one way or the other or get their forms in on time. If it's a money issue ($20.00), sign them up but pay when you have it. Times are tough.
Why would he pick the older kids rather than going for the 4th graders? More power. I'm sure he thought if he had the older boys, they would clean everyones clock in the games. This also caused a no coach problem for the next year when he and his kid moved on to the next level. When 4th graders are picked, there's a parent that will assist and will stay coaching for the three years they are in Little League. One less thing I have to worry about.
Here's another trick they use. Mind you, not all but you sometimes forget about the good ones because the bad and ugly ones stick in your craw. Mr. Ugly Coach wants to coach. Fine. Well, Mr. Not-So-Bad wants to be his assistant so his son will also be on the same team, uh-huh. Sometimes another wants to help and pretty soon they're thinking they'll have a hand-picked team. I don't think so. Little League there is a coach. That's it. When you draft, maybe one of those kids parents will help you and we'll go from there.
The lower levels, you're the coach, you can have one assistant. Most parents have jobs and other kids that having an assistant is a good thing. I don't have a problem with that but that may change too.
Now, when the older kids leave a space on the roster by moving onto the next level, you have to fill it with mostly 4th graders coming in, unless I didn't let a 5th or 6th grader sign up. There's always that. Looking at the rosters from last year and using my handy-dandy highlighters, I mark the kids that are leaving. One team is practically wiped out. That means it'll be mostly 4th graders going against two teams with nine mostly 6th graders. Oh, wait! That team belonged to the Mr. Ugly Coach who picked all of the older kids! Thank you for messing that up. The other teams are pretty much even on the roster.
This is why we're redrafting. It's a safety issue. The teams are lopsided and 4th graders going against a live pitcher rather than a pitching machine can be dangerous. If it gets too scary for the parents, they won't let their kids play. We did have a broken nose last year when a ball tipped off a glove and hit the player square in the nose. But he came back and finished out the season. He was a tough 4th grader.
Mr. Ugly Coach thinks I'm doing this to make Mr. Good Coaches team better. Excuse me? Mr. Good Coach is the one who takes anybody and works with them. He doesn't care who he has. He treats all the kids the same. Mr.Good Coach will also have the last draft pick because his team won the championship. Mr. Good Coach is the one who stopped his son on base in a lower division, he didn't need to run up the score.
Another coach called and asked why and I told him, it's safety I'm concerned about. At least he called and asked ME. And yes, from now on we're redrafting every year. This was a park board member's idea and the rest agreed.
Mr. Ugly Coach and his kid aren't even in Little League. They moved up a notch and he's not even coaching. We'll just call him Mr. Ugly.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
And the other idea.
Sometime Friday night a yearling doe became caught in the fence behind the house. Her hind leg went between two wires and when she went over, it twisted, trapping her. During her entrapment she struggled, digging a hole about a foot below snow level, her snout became stuck under the bottom wire of the woven wire.
There was no way to untwist the wire. It cut into her hock but didn't look too serious as it appeared just the hide was cut. Under her chin, she was slightly cut. There was little blood on both injuries. Leaving her snout caught, we cut the wire releasing her leg. It did not appear that her hip was dislocated, I'm not a vet but I have seen that before, then pushing her nose out from the wire, we drug her out of the hole. She had thrashed with her head enough to rub the hide hairless from around her left eye. It was swollen shut.
She was shivering, I'm sure in shock. I rubbed her leg that I'm sure had no circulation from being raised all night long. She just blinked at us with her other eye. I talked softy to her. Not sure about her outcome but I was thankful she didn't kick the crap out me. Since she was on solid ground, the sun was shining, it could be a good day if she just rested a bit.
I checked every now and again and she'd move but not far. Still not standing. Later in the day, before the sun went down, she died. I felt bad because there was nothing I could really do. I didn't think she was bad enough to put her down.
I enjoy hunting. Grew up with it. I don't think thinning the herd is a bad thing. I do think that maybe they should make deer hunters take a doe before that trophy buck they are always in search of. I read a while back that a second birthing year of a doe more than likely will end up with twins. If one of those twins is a little doe, and so on.
There are car/deer collisions all the time. It's certainly not their fault as we're the ones who have moved into their territory. It's not their fault that food is scarce during bad winters and my trees happen to be handy. Even with wrapping woven wire around them, they'll stick their noses through. The dog's barking certainly doesn't scare them. One used to visit Riley, I think they were friends. Hopefully it wasn't one of the four that were hit right in front of the house in less than two weeks time.
The road into town is littered with them.
I suppose I could have shot the little deer. Like I said, I like hunting. But they have a chance out in the wild. Having to shoot a hurt animal is not fun. I have done it too many times and it never feels good. I will admit I have shot two animals out of anger. One was a fox that took my 80+ chickens, ducks, geese and turkeys down to six in less than two weeks.
I walked out of the house, saw him hanging around the chicken house, went back in for the .22. The other happen to be a turkey that was the meanest thing. We had turkeys that were like pups following us around but this one was opposite of nice. We would take to carrying a broom handle for protection to the chicken house to gather eggs after he trapped my daughter in there. He had already beat her, leaving marks on her arms and face. She took refuge in the chicken house. She might have been five.
One day he charged me when I came through the gate, spurs up. Whack! He didn't care. We played this game for about 15 minutes until I walked back for the .22 again. He was too dangerous to keep.
When my daughter came home from school, I thought she would be upset that I was cleaning him. Not at all.
There was no way to untwist the wire. It cut into her hock but didn't look too serious as it appeared just the hide was cut. Under her chin, she was slightly cut. There was little blood on both injuries. Leaving her snout caught, we cut the wire releasing her leg. It did not appear that her hip was dislocated, I'm not a vet but I have seen that before, then pushing her nose out from the wire, we drug her out of the hole. She had thrashed with her head enough to rub the hide hairless from around her left eye. It was swollen shut.
She was shivering, I'm sure in shock. I rubbed her leg that I'm sure had no circulation from being raised all night long. She just blinked at us with her other eye. I talked softy to her. Not sure about her outcome but I was thankful she didn't kick the crap out me. Since she was on solid ground, the sun was shining, it could be a good day if she just rested a bit.
I checked every now and again and she'd move but not far. Still not standing. Later in the day, before the sun went down, she died. I felt bad because there was nothing I could really do. I didn't think she was bad enough to put her down.
I enjoy hunting. Grew up with it. I don't think thinning the herd is a bad thing. I do think that maybe they should make deer hunters take a doe before that trophy buck they are always in search of. I read a while back that a second birthing year of a doe more than likely will end up with twins. If one of those twins is a little doe, and so on.
There are car/deer collisions all the time. It's certainly not their fault as we're the ones who have moved into their territory. It's not their fault that food is scarce during bad winters and my trees happen to be handy. Even with wrapping woven wire around them, they'll stick their noses through. The dog's barking certainly doesn't scare them. One used to visit Riley, I think they were friends. Hopefully it wasn't one of the four that were hit right in front of the house in less than two weeks time.
The road into town is littered with them.
I suppose I could have shot the little deer. Like I said, I like hunting. But they have a chance out in the wild. Having to shoot a hurt animal is not fun. I have done it too many times and it never feels good. I will admit I have shot two animals out of anger. One was a fox that took my 80+ chickens, ducks, geese and turkeys down to six in less than two weeks.
I walked out of the house, saw him hanging around the chicken house, went back in for the .22. The other happen to be a turkey that was the meanest thing. We had turkeys that were like pups following us around but this one was opposite of nice. We would take to carrying a broom handle for protection to the chicken house to gather eggs after he trapped my daughter in there. He had already beat her, leaving marks on her arms and face. She took refuge in the chicken house. She might have been five.
One day he charged me when I came through the gate, spurs up. Whack! He didn't care. We played this game for about 15 minutes until I walked back for the .22 again. He was too dangerous to keep.
When my daughter came home from school, I thought she would be upset that I was cleaning him. Not at all.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Probably will make someone angry today.
Actually, both the ideas I have in my head and I only have two, either one might make someone angry.
I was asked to speak to a panel of business people at a radio station in Cedar Rapids about kids and what our community had to offer in the line of recreation. Wear casual clothing I was told. Pretty informal.
Their pretty informal didn't match my pretty informal. Shorts and a t-shirt for me. Business suits for them. Even the ladies on the panel.
I was one of six or eight going to speak to this group. We each did it alone. We each had 15 minutes. One at a time we were called back to the meeting room, we answered questions, told of our jobs, what activities we had available to the youth in our towns, or at least I'm assuming that's what they asked the others. I never saw them come back out and was wondering if they were burying them in the back lot. Glad I wore my tennis shoes. I can run pretty fast when I want to.
I still had about four minutes to spare. One fellow asked what I thought was wrong with today's youth? Can I have another 15 minutes please! Not that I was/am the perfect parent. Not that my folks are. I do believe you need to have a child's attention in order for some things to soak in. How do you get that attention? A smack across the rearend! I know some people don't believe in spanking their kids, my folk's did and I didn't turn into a serial killer. I'm pretty sure my brothers and sister didn't either. Nor did my daughter.
Sometimes my mom would yell, "You just wait until your father gets home! You're all going to get a beating!" And sometimes we would. Dad wasn't mad at us but by the time mom finished telling him what we did, he was in the mood. (Dad had a collection of belts. The wide ones weren't so bad but those thinner ones stung like nobody's business!)
One day dad came home from work and you could tell he was tired. Mom told him to beat us because we were driving her crazy or we were smartmouthed or the four of us fought all day with each other or more than likely, I'm sure, all of the above. Dad turned to her and said, "You beat them! They're your kids too!" You could see this light bulb turn on when mom realized she could. Oh, crap. The world was her arsenal. Whatever she could grab, a wooden spoon, a piece of Todd's Hot Wheels track or if nothing was within reach, a hand on the butt! Yep. We were doomed.
They got our attention. We knew how far we could push those buttons and we did. We aren't scarred for life. We were not locked in a dark closet for days with no food. It wasn't child abuse. Our bad behavior was met by punishment not pills from the doctor saying we had ADD or ADHD. I'm not saying there aren't cases of ADD, I'm saying some people might use that as an excuse. That's what one parent said to me when I let her know her darling fifth grade son told me to "f--- off!" "Well, he has ADD." In my book he's lucky I didn't knock his head off right then and there. There were too many witnesses.
After an 'attention getting', my dad would say, "If you want to run away, go pack your bags and I'll give you a lift to the corner." You couldn't help but smile even though you didn't want to. All was forgotten. All was forgiven.
I was asked to speak to a panel of business people at a radio station in Cedar Rapids about kids and what our community had to offer in the line of recreation. Wear casual clothing I was told. Pretty informal.
Their pretty informal didn't match my pretty informal. Shorts and a t-shirt for me. Business suits for them. Even the ladies on the panel.
I was one of six or eight going to speak to this group. We each did it alone. We each had 15 minutes. One at a time we were called back to the meeting room, we answered questions, told of our jobs, what activities we had available to the youth in our towns, or at least I'm assuming that's what they asked the others. I never saw them come back out and was wondering if they were burying them in the back lot. Glad I wore my tennis shoes. I can run pretty fast when I want to.
I still had about four minutes to spare. One fellow asked what I thought was wrong with today's youth? Can I have another 15 minutes please! Not that I was/am the perfect parent. Not that my folks are. I do believe you need to have a child's attention in order for some things to soak in. How do you get that attention? A smack across the rearend! I know some people don't believe in spanking their kids, my folk's did and I didn't turn into a serial killer. I'm pretty sure my brothers and sister didn't either. Nor did my daughter.
Sometimes my mom would yell, "You just wait until your father gets home! You're all going to get a beating!" And sometimes we would. Dad wasn't mad at us but by the time mom finished telling him what we did, he was in the mood. (Dad had a collection of belts. The wide ones weren't so bad but those thinner ones stung like nobody's business!)
One day dad came home from work and you could tell he was tired. Mom told him to beat us because we were driving her crazy or we were smartmouthed or the four of us fought all day with each other or more than likely, I'm sure, all of the above. Dad turned to her and said, "You beat them! They're your kids too!" You could see this light bulb turn on when mom realized she could. Oh, crap. The world was her arsenal. Whatever she could grab, a wooden spoon, a piece of Todd's Hot Wheels track or if nothing was within reach, a hand on the butt! Yep. We were doomed.
They got our attention. We knew how far we could push those buttons and we did. We aren't scarred for life. We were not locked in a dark closet for days with no food. It wasn't child abuse. Our bad behavior was met by punishment not pills from the doctor saying we had ADD or ADHD. I'm not saying there aren't cases of ADD, I'm saying some people might use that as an excuse. That's what one parent said to me when I let her know her darling fifth grade son told me to "f--- off!" "Well, he has ADD." In my book he's lucky I didn't knock his head off right then and there. There were too many witnesses.
After an 'attention getting', my dad would say, "If you want to run away, go pack your bags and I'll give you a lift to the corner." You couldn't help but smile even though you didn't want to. All was forgotten. All was forgiven.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Signs, signs, everywhere there's signs!
Matthew said this place was going to be one big sign by the time I'm finished.
The first night of girl's basketball he had to scrub the floor because of all the dirt, sand and snow brought into the gym by people who didn't wipe their feet. There are now neon orange signs on all three front doors that state: "Please stomp the crud off of your shoes outside and wipe your feet when you enter, it helps keep the gym floor from being damaged. Thank you."
Now that some of snow has melted off and away from the sidewalk the little treasures are uncovered to bask in the sun. There's basic trash; paper, cans, pop bottles, plastic stuck in the bushes but it's the gum and the cigarette butts that really annoy me. Some of them aren't that old either. When there's two, count'em, two cigarette butt receptacles out front before you enter, a dumpster around the corner and a trash can inside the lobby. Do you really have to spit your gum in the garden or on the sidewalk?
Another sign: "Please do not throw your cigarette butts on the ground or spit your gum on the sidewalk or gardens! Thank you!" I try to be polite with please and thank you but what I really want to say is; "Listen you dumbass, I don't come to your house and litter and spit my gum in your yard or walk through your house with muddy shoes so I would appreciate it if you wouldn't do it here! Who do you think has to clean that up?" I think it's such a disgusting job, even worse than sorting pop cans with their sticky mess, that I won't let the kids do it. I do wear gloves though because I don't want to touch their slobbers.
I laminated that sign since it will be in the weather and hung it on the butt holder. Neon green.
Do we really have to ask people to wipe their feet or not to litter? Wouldn't that be common sense? Or common knowledge? At least the polite thing to do. Maybe I should make a sign....
The first night of girl's basketball he had to scrub the floor because of all the dirt, sand and snow brought into the gym by people who didn't wipe their feet. There are now neon orange signs on all three front doors that state: "Please stomp the crud off of your shoes outside and wipe your feet when you enter, it helps keep the gym floor from being damaged. Thank you."
Now that some of snow has melted off and away from the sidewalk the little treasures are uncovered to bask in the sun. There's basic trash; paper, cans, pop bottles, plastic stuck in the bushes but it's the gum and the cigarette butts that really annoy me. Some of them aren't that old either. When there's two, count'em, two cigarette butt receptacles out front before you enter, a dumpster around the corner and a trash can inside the lobby. Do you really have to spit your gum in the garden or on the sidewalk?
Another sign: "Please do not throw your cigarette butts on the ground or spit your gum on the sidewalk or gardens! Thank you!" I try to be polite with please and thank you but what I really want to say is; "Listen you dumbass, I don't come to your house and litter and spit my gum in your yard or walk through your house with muddy shoes so I would appreciate it if you wouldn't do it here! Who do you think has to clean that up?" I think it's such a disgusting job, even worse than sorting pop cans with their sticky mess, that I won't let the kids do it. I do wear gloves though because I don't want to touch their slobbers.
I laminated that sign since it will be in the weather and hung it on the butt holder. Neon green.
Do we really have to ask people to wipe their feet or not to litter? Wouldn't that be common sense? Or common knowledge? At least the polite thing to do. Maybe I should make a sign....
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Darn kids!
How do kids walk out of the gym into the cold air without their coats? Or shirts, tear away pants, their extra tennis shoes? It's amazing. You'd think when that arctic air hit their sweating body and the ice crystals are forming they'd think, "Oh, geez! Where's my coat?"
The pool is another place I collect a lot of clothes, toys and shoes. I should just have a garage sale every spring. Let them buy back their own stuff. I figure if I have it for six months, it's mine. Towels, socks, shirts, shoes, toys, swim suits and my favorite, underpants. They are not always kid sized either.
Don't the parents get mad when their child shows up with no shoes? I actually had a brand new pair of Nikes left here. In a year's time, no one ever claimed them. I'm glad Goodwill could use them. No one ever leaves a bag of money though. I did find a nickle today and I'm not waiting for six months to go by. It's in my pocket.
I guess they forget notes from school, forget to tell the folks someone called, forgot to make their bed, comb their hair, brush their teeth and homework. I never forgot my homework. I just didn't do it, well, until the last minute.
Sometimes they forget to come to work. They forget to get a replacement. That is not my responsibility to find a replacement if they can't come in. They forget and call me. I tell them they must come in then. I don't really care that you decided to float the river or go shopping. You decided you wanted a job, I decided you could work and I can decide that you don't. Funny thing, you sometimes find a replacement but you never want to work for someone else. That gets old for everyone.
It's not my job to supply you with a whistle, swimsuit, or to sign you up for CPR or to be recertified. You are to bring your cards in so that I can have a copy for when the inspector visits. She will check too.
Please leave your nail polish at home, your bracelet making supplies, coloring books, crayons and markers. I've told you this before.
I guess they forgot.
The pool is another place I collect a lot of clothes, toys and shoes. I should just have a garage sale every spring. Let them buy back their own stuff. I figure if I have it for six months, it's mine. Towels, socks, shirts, shoes, toys, swim suits and my favorite, underpants. They are not always kid sized either.
Don't the parents get mad when their child shows up with no shoes? I actually had a brand new pair of Nikes left here. In a year's time, no one ever claimed them. I'm glad Goodwill could use them. No one ever leaves a bag of money though. I did find a nickle today and I'm not waiting for six months to go by. It's in my pocket.
I guess they forget notes from school, forget to tell the folks someone called, forgot to make their bed, comb their hair, brush their teeth and homework. I never forgot my homework. I just didn't do it, well, until the last minute.
Sometimes they forget to come to work. They forget to get a replacement. That is not my responsibility to find a replacement if they can't come in. They forget and call me. I tell them they must come in then. I don't really care that you decided to float the river or go shopping. You decided you wanted a job, I decided you could work and I can decide that you don't. Funny thing, you sometimes find a replacement but you never want to work for someone else. That gets old for everyone.
It's not my job to supply you with a whistle, swimsuit, or to sign you up for CPR or to be recertified. You are to bring your cards in so that I can have a copy for when the inspector visits. She will check too.
Please leave your nail polish at home, your bracelet making supplies, coloring books, crayons and markers. I've told you this before.
I guess they forgot.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Coaches: The Good, the Bad & the Ugly and others
It's not only coaches but parents and players as well.
I described an ugly parent in an earlier blog. There are ugly coaches as well. And ugly players. All seem to put a lot of emphasis on winning not how the game is played. "Losing is not an option!" taking a quote from The Breakfast Club and Emilo Estaves. I have lots of stories on those.
The Bad ones may bend the rules a bit for their own benefit. Ignore the rule in PeeWee baseball where there is only one base on a overthrow or if the ump says you're out, you're good, stay on base. Can we switch kids on the roster because this kid is too slow? Still too much emphasis on winning but not as bad. I'll just re-read the rules to them again this year. They'll listen. Maybe.
The Good. These are the ones I love. All the kids want to be on their team. All the parents want their kids to be on their team. I guess we wouldn't have too many teams if I let that happen. That's why we have a draft. That may sound silly but in some cases where we don't have a draft, like in soccer, there's always that one who says I stacked a team. We play "pick a card, any card" when I have Matthew and Clayton, possibly Curtis, each take a turn pulling a form out and going in order, making up the rosters. I have witnesses. (One dad would open his wallet up and ask how much would it take to have so-and-so on his team? Really! What an ass.) That would be a big no-no for baseball. I would probably be chased down and burned at the stake.
There was a player that was pitching and the batter was a smaller boy who would likely strike out. The pitcher knowing this eased up on the strength of his pitches. He didn't lob them over the plate but also he didn't put his all behind it. He gave the smaller boy a chance. Gotta love it. (Gotta love this kid. When he was in second grade, I was on my way to drag a field. He was playing on the next one to drag with some older boys, one being his brother. As I was driving by I heard the ball come off the bat. It sailed over the outfield fence. I heard this pitcher-to-be yell, " G****** it, Tyler! How many f*****g times do I have to tell you not to hit the ball so hard!" I yelled at him for talking that way but held back the giggles until I was out of earshot. The tears were streaming down my face. I was so shocked that a little kid would say those things but it was funny that a little kid DID say those things. He is a sweetheart. He hangs around here helping out. Gotta and do love him.)
Then there's that other kind. This pitcher sees a smaller boy and knowing he'll be swinging in the breeze so he'll throw it as hard as possible to make sure he strikes out. That's what the coach wants, that's what the coach gets. That rubs off to the players. Well, we're kicking the crud out of them, let's make sure they don't get up.
I was working the concession stand at the ball fields by the gardens. This was in 2009. I witnessed something that truly made me well up. This team was winning. The coaches' son came up to bat. The son cracked one out, it cleared the infield of a prep diamond and I was amazed at the strength of this little third grader. Coach gave a yell and a signal. I watched the son stop at second. Okay. The next time the son came up to bat, same thing, cracked it out to center, but he stopped on first. After the game we talked. I mentioned if he knew why his dad stopped him on second then first. Of course he did! Silly me. Just because they were winning didn't mean they had to kill them.
This coach has taken kids, worked with them using encouragement instead of yelling and calling them names. One hit a grand slam in the playoffs. He wasn't their best player, hitter or runner but with a little one-on-one, he was able to hold his own. The cheering was deafening. He received the game ball for that night. I do believe the kid is still smiling.
This coach wants to come back and coach the younger boys when his are in high school. He said they are the most fun to coach. He's a big kid himself and I will let him. He knows what he's doing and the kids love him.
I called this gal some years ago asking if she, and/or her husband, would be interested in coaching their sons' team in soccer. I was short coaches and even though they didn't know much about soccer or basketball or flag football or baseball but when I continually call them, they always say they'll do it. These are the other ones I love. Even though they might not know all there is to know about a sport, they will still coach. They will work with someone else's child, starting from scratch, making time for them, holding practices, teaching, correcting, having a water balloon fight/picnic after the last game. All the wins and losses are forgotten and giggling is in its' place.
There are others but these are the best. Winning is not the main thing we learn but how to play, sportsmanship and treating others with respect.
And everyone plays.
I described an ugly parent in an earlier blog. There are ugly coaches as well. And ugly players. All seem to put a lot of emphasis on winning not how the game is played. "Losing is not an option!" taking a quote from The Breakfast Club and Emilo Estaves. I have lots of stories on those.
The Bad ones may bend the rules a bit for their own benefit. Ignore the rule in PeeWee baseball where there is only one base on a overthrow or if the ump says you're out, you're good, stay on base. Can we switch kids on the roster because this kid is too slow? Still too much emphasis on winning but not as bad. I'll just re-read the rules to them again this year. They'll listen. Maybe.
The Good. These are the ones I love. All the kids want to be on their team. All the parents want their kids to be on their team. I guess we wouldn't have too many teams if I let that happen. That's why we have a draft. That may sound silly but in some cases where we don't have a draft, like in soccer, there's always that one who says I stacked a team. We play "pick a card, any card" when I have Matthew and Clayton, possibly Curtis, each take a turn pulling a form out and going in order, making up the rosters. I have witnesses. (One dad would open his wallet up and ask how much would it take to have so-and-so on his team? Really! What an ass.) That would be a big no-no for baseball. I would probably be chased down and burned at the stake.
There was a player that was pitching and the batter was a smaller boy who would likely strike out. The pitcher knowing this eased up on the strength of his pitches. He didn't lob them over the plate but also he didn't put his all behind it. He gave the smaller boy a chance. Gotta love it. (Gotta love this kid. When he was in second grade, I was on my way to drag a field. He was playing on the next one to drag with some older boys, one being his brother. As I was driving by I heard the ball come off the bat. It sailed over the outfield fence. I heard this pitcher-to-be yell, " G****** it, Tyler! How many f*****g times do I have to tell you not to hit the ball so hard!" I yelled at him for talking that way but held back the giggles until I was out of earshot. The tears were streaming down my face. I was so shocked that a little kid would say those things but it was funny that a little kid DID say those things. He is a sweetheart. He hangs around here helping out. Gotta and do love him.)
Then there's that other kind. This pitcher sees a smaller boy and knowing he'll be swinging in the breeze so he'll throw it as hard as possible to make sure he strikes out. That's what the coach wants, that's what the coach gets. That rubs off to the players. Well, we're kicking the crud out of them, let's make sure they don't get up.
I was working the concession stand at the ball fields by the gardens. This was in 2009. I witnessed something that truly made me well up. This team was winning. The coaches' son came up to bat. The son cracked one out, it cleared the infield of a prep diamond and I was amazed at the strength of this little third grader. Coach gave a yell and a signal. I watched the son stop at second. Okay. The next time the son came up to bat, same thing, cracked it out to center, but he stopped on first. After the game we talked. I mentioned if he knew why his dad stopped him on second then first. Of course he did! Silly me. Just because they were winning didn't mean they had to kill them.
This coach has taken kids, worked with them using encouragement instead of yelling and calling them names. One hit a grand slam in the playoffs. He wasn't their best player, hitter or runner but with a little one-on-one, he was able to hold his own. The cheering was deafening. He received the game ball for that night. I do believe the kid is still smiling.
This coach wants to come back and coach the younger boys when his are in high school. He said they are the most fun to coach. He's a big kid himself and I will let him. He knows what he's doing and the kids love him.
I called this gal some years ago asking if she, and/or her husband, would be interested in coaching their sons' team in soccer. I was short coaches and even though they didn't know much about soccer or basketball or flag football or baseball but when I continually call them, they always say they'll do it. These are the other ones I love. Even though they might not know all there is to know about a sport, they will still coach. They will work with someone else's child, starting from scratch, making time for them, holding practices, teaching, correcting, having a water balloon fight/picnic after the last game. All the wins and losses are forgotten and giggling is in its' place.
There are others but these are the best. Winning is not the main thing we learn but how to play, sportsmanship and treating others with respect.
And everyone plays.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Winning Isn't Everything
This little piece was written for the same brochure but for the 2010 issue. I usually have the brochure ready for print before the end of the year.
I can guarantee you I was angry when I typed it out as boy's basketball just ended for the season and I had a parent tell me, "If my kid gets hurt out there, I'll own this place." My first thought was, "Great! He'll be signing my paychecks." Second thought was, "Your kid was just as rough as the others, don't give me that." Notice I said thoughts. SOMETIMES I know when to keep my mouth shut.
This particular basketball game was already a cinch. One had first place, the other second. Even if the first place team had lost, they were still walking away with that place. There was a lot of pushing, mostly, I might add, by the second place team. The same team that had the son of the father that spoke to me.
Here is my editorial:
Years ago I was helping out at a Monticello PeeWee Panther Wrestling meet at the high school when it was new, that's how many "years ago" this took place. My job was to walk around and ask people to please stay on the spectator side of the barrier rope. While most people apologized, I was called a few names, not only by adults but children as well. This really floored me as the parents were right there when the names flew out of their child's little faces. My parents would've belted me for being disrespectful.
Not knowing much about wrestling, I stopped to watch a meet against two little boys, one from Monticello and the other from a neighboring town. The fellow from Monticello lost but it didn't seem to bother him. He was all smiles. He walked over to the boy who beat him; they shook hands and patted each other on the back. If I hadn't been watching, I wouldn't have known who had won or lost.
During baseball/softball, basketball and flag football I see exaggerated looks to the ref/ump when there is a call against a player like, "What! It wasn't me!" There is trash talking going on at the schools against members from different teams. There is name calling to members who may not be as athletic on the same team. Some of these kids have never played before and they are here to learn, not be ridiculed. There are parents yelling at coaches, coaches yelling at players and parents yelling at refs. Faces are rubbed in wins, the "whatever" look given to winners. Is winning all there is? There may not be an "I" in team bit it seems we're going on the fact there is an "M" and "E".
To that little boy who lost his wrestling match, I don't know your name but I still recognize your smile and for that I thank you.
I received a lot of calls on this one. I really didn't think too many people read what I wrote so it's a good thing I kept the language out of it. Sometimes what pops into my head ends up on paper. With each call I received, there was a story to go with it. It's amazing how people behave when they think they're going to win a trinket.
Tomorrow I might write about my favorite coaches. Cheer things up a bit. Not eveyone is a jerk.
I can guarantee you I was angry when I typed it out as boy's basketball just ended for the season and I had a parent tell me, "If my kid gets hurt out there, I'll own this place." My first thought was, "Great! He'll be signing my paychecks." Second thought was, "Your kid was just as rough as the others, don't give me that." Notice I said thoughts. SOMETIMES I know when to keep my mouth shut.
This particular basketball game was already a cinch. One had first place, the other second. Even if the first place team had lost, they were still walking away with that place. There was a lot of pushing, mostly, I might add, by the second place team. The same team that had the son of the father that spoke to me.
Here is my editorial:
Years ago I was helping out at a Monticello PeeWee Panther Wrestling meet at the high school when it was new, that's how many "years ago" this took place. My job was to walk around and ask people to please stay on the spectator side of the barrier rope. While most people apologized, I was called a few names, not only by adults but children as well. This really floored me as the parents were right there when the names flew out of their child's little faces. My parents would've belted me for being disrespectful.
Not knowing much about wrestling, I stopped to watch a meet against two little boys, one from Monticello and the other from a neighboring town. The fellow from Monticello lost but it didn't seem to bother him. He was all smiles. He walked over to the boy who beat him; they shook hands and patted each other on the back. If I hadn't been watching, I wouldn't have known who had won or lost.
During baseball/softball, basketball and flag football I see exaggerated looks to the ref/ump when there is a call against a player like, "What! It wasn't me!" There is trash talking going on at the schools against members from different teams. There is name calling to members who may not be as athletic on the same team. Some of these kids have never played before and they are here to learn, not be ridiculed. There are parents yelling at coaches, coaches yelling at players and parents yelling at refs. Faces are rubbed in wins, the "whatever" look given to winners. Is winning all there is? There may not be an "I" in team bit it seems we're going on the fact there is an "M" and "E".
To that little boy who lost his wrestling match, I don't know your name but I still recognize your smile and for that I thank you.
I received a lot of calls on this one. I really didn't think too many people read what I wrote so it's a good thing I kept the language out of it. Sometimes what pops into my head ends up on paper. With each call I received, there was a story to go with it. It's amazing how people behave when they think they're going to win a trinket.
Tomorrow I might write about my favorite coaches. Cheer things up a bit. Not eveyone is a jerk.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Angels in the outfield.....
And in the dugouts, the basketball courts, the pool, the roof, the soccer and flag football fields. They come in numerous sizes and ages, cleverly disguised as moms, dads, brothers, sisters, city crew, friends and students. While their halos may come in the form of a ball cap, their wings tucked under their t-shirts, I can't be the only one who sees them.
It takes time, muscle and many hands to have the preparations for the different seasons' activities ready on time. The angels come to pull weeds, hang batting cages, pick up trash, deliver lime, wax, fix the fixable, make snacks, mark lines, mow, scrub, blow leaves out of the gutters and stock shelves all because they know I need a hand.
Their work isn't finished yet. They come from work, school, the fields, their businesses, their homes and families to coach, encourage, praise, correct and teach kids the fundamentals of a game, fair play and how to be part of a team. There are angels who don't have a child participating and yet they are there helping.
I feel a great sense of relief and gratitude for their efforts when each season starts and yes, when they end. Without them things would not go as smoothly.
To all the angels, I cannot thank you enough. I want you to know you are appreciated.
I wrote this in 2009 as the opening in our yearly brochure we put out every year with all the activities we offer. I miss some of those angels as their kids are getting older and have moved up a division or two. One group of fellows would bring their skidloaders to move lime or lift someone up in the bucket to hang the batting cages. Now that I have a "crew", we can have most of these chores done.
Thank you to all that have helped. I can't do it without you!
It takes time, muscle and many hands to have the preparations for the different seasons' activities ready on time. The angels come to pull weeds, hang batting cages, pick up trash, deliver lime, wax, fix the fixable, make snacks, mark lines, mow, scrub, blow leaves out of the gutters and stock shelves all because they know I need a hand.
Their work isn't finished yet. They come from work, school, the fields, their businesses, their homes and families to coach, encourage, praise, correct and teach kids the fundamentals of a game, fair play and how to be part of a team. There are angels who don't have a child participating and yet they are there helping.
I feel a great sense of relief and gratitude for their efforts when each season starts and yes, when they end. Without them things would not go as smoothly.
To all the angels, I cannot thank you enough. I want you to know you are appreciated.
I wrote this in 2009 as the opening in our yearly brochure we put out every year with all the activities we offer. I miss some of those angels as their kids are getting older and have moved up a division or two. One group of fellows would bring their skidloaders to move lime or lift someone up in the bucket to hang the batting cages. Now that I have a "crew", we can have most of these chores done.
Thank you to all that have helped. I can't do it without you!
Friday, February 11, 2011
Butt Chewing and stuff
It was minor. Some people who play sports seem to think they are the best or their kid is the next Michael Jordan or Derek Jeter. It's funny that no one ever says, "Yep! My kid is the next Secretariate!" Maybe they mean he/she will be a horse's ass.
Little Johnny didn't get to play as much as Tommy. I don't want my kid on so-and-so's team. The refs' stink.
Let's see. Little Johnny didn't come to the practices but he comes to the games and they expect him to play every inning, every minute and I'm sure he is the best pitcher/catcher/first baseman/point guard/center/goalie/brain surgeon/forward/quarterback/lawyer/artist/rock star I've ever seen!
Tommy on the other hand has been to all the practices, came early and stayed late, practices in his backyard, actually acts like he wants to be there, listens to the coach, remembers his equipment and tries.
A parent doesn't want their kid on a team if they don't like the coach. It might not matter if his dog left a "gift" in their yard or he's a little gruff (being a total jackass doen't fly in my book and they won't be asked to coach anyway). We all have to work, play, or live around someone sometime that we just don't care for. Deal with it.
When you yell at the refs and call him names, you have to expect the fact he may take his whistle off and hand it to you because, apparently, you can do a better job. These fellas come here, not with the hopes of making $50 or more a game even though they are certified and can get that elsewhere. They came because I asked them. They came because I needed them. Some won't take the lousy $10.00 this department pays per game. They do it out of the kindness of their hearts and your insults do not make me happy.
True story: On Sundays we had a boy's basketball league for travel/tournament teams. We do have a city league also for any kid to play. One parent kept riding the ref on the far court. I saw the ref take his whistle off and try to hand it to the guy with the mouth. He shook his head. The ref turned around and the guy started in again. The ref was getting angry. The guy was getting angry. The games stopped on both courts and the refs on the court nearest me (I was in the concession stand goofing around) looked at me. It was so quiet in the gym. I walked to where the action was and with a smile on my face, I asked what the problem was. He proceeded to tell me my refs suck. I explained, still with a smile, that he was the ref, he is making the calls, and we go by what he says. I was told again that my refs suck. Again, he is the ref.
I will admit what happened next could have been avoided but the way this guy was talking to the ref and myself, when he said, "Go sit down (and I honestly thought he was going to say "and shut up."). I still was smiling but I could feel it rising. I asked him not to speak to me like that and he repeated it. The smile melted and I told him he could leave. Of course he refused. One of my friends was in the gym because his son was going to play the next game. He is a police officer. I motioned for him to come over. This guy wasn't going to listen to me and dared me to call the police. Mr. Officer walked over and the guy stood up. This guy was a tree! I followed him to the other side of the gym with Mr. Officer behind me. Mr. Officer told him to watch the game from the door. Mr. Tree's wife came up to me and said, "You know this is silly!" and the way she was looking at me was like I had overreacted. I looked at her, nodded and told her you're right, this is silly. Meaning, I might not be able to take your husband down but you would be no problem!
Everyone in the gym was looking our way. It took me a while to calm down, I know we were loud. In my head, I know I can't call people names or smack them, I could lose my job. Since I have insurance, I would hate for that to happen.
Did I mention these were 5th and 6th grade boys?
I don't know if I would do that for $10.00.
Little Johnny didn't get to play as much as Tommy. I don't want my kid on so-and-so's team. The refs' stink.
Let's see. Little Johnny didn't come to the practices but he comes to the games and they expect him to play every inning, every minute and I'm sure he is the best pitcher/catcher/first baseman/point guard/center/goalie/brain surgeon/forward/quarterback/lawyer/artist/rock star I've ever seen!
Tommy on the other hand has been to all the practices, came early and stayed late, practices in his backyard, actually acts like he wants to be there, listens to the coach, remembers his equipment and tries.
A parent doesn't want their kid on a team if they don't like the coach. It might not matter if his dog left a "gift" in their yard or he's a little gruff (being a total jackass doen't fly in my book and they won't be asked to coach anyway). We all have to work, play, or live around someone sometime that we just don't care for. Deal with it.
When you yell at the refs and call him names, you have to expect the fact he may take his whistle off and hand it to you because, apparently, you can do a better job. These fellas come here, not with the hopes of making $50 or more a game even though they are certified and can get that elsewhere. They came because I asked them. They came because I needed them. Some won't take the lousy $10.00 this department pays per game. They do it out of the kindness of their hearts and your insults do not make me happy.
True story: On Sundays we had a boy's basketball league for travel/tournament teams. We do have a city league also for any kid to play. One parent kept riding the ref on the far court. I saw the ref take his whistle off and try to hand it to the guy with the mouth. He shook his head. The ref turned around and the guy started in again. The ref was getting angry. The guy was getting angry. The games stopped on both courts and the refs on the court nearest me (I was in the concession stand goofing around) looked at me. It was so quiet in the gym. I walked to where the action was and with a smile on my face, I asked what the problem was. He proceeded to tell me my refs suck. I explained, still with a smile, that he was the ref, he is making the calls, and we go by what he says. I was told again that my refs suck. Again, he is the ref.
I will admit what happened next could have been avoided but the way this guy was talking to the ref and myself, when he said, "Go sit down (and I honestly thought he was going to say "and shut up."). I still was smiling but I could feel it rising. I asked him not to speak to me like that and he repeated it. The smile melted and I told him he could leave. Of course he refused. One of my friends was in the gym because his son was going to play the next game. He is a police officer. I motioned for him to come over. This guy wasn't going to listen to me and dared me to call the police. Mr. Officer walked over and the guy stood up. This guy was a tree! I followed him to the other side of the gym with Mr. Officer behind me. Mr. Officer told him to watch the game from the door. Mr. Tree's wife came up to me and said, "You know this is silly!" and the way she was looking at me was like I had overreacted. I looked at her, nodded and told her you're right, this is silly. Meaning, I might not be able to take your husband down but you would be no problem!
Everyone in the gym was looking our way. It took me a while to calm down, I know we were loud. In my head, I know I can't call people names or smack them, I could lose my job. Since I have insurance, I would hate for that to happen.
Did I mention these were 5th and 6th grade boys?
I don't know if I would do that for $10.00.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Job Description
Maybe I should fill you in on what it is I/we do.
Here at the Berndes Center, aka the youth center, I rent this building out. We have a gym that you can play tennis, volleyball, have one basketball game going North and South or two going East and West. This area is used for wedding receptions, banquets, car shows, rollerblading, reunions, prom, concerts, walking, practices (basketball, soccer, volleyball, football practices, district cross counrty meets for the school), practices for our leagues; basketball, volleyball, soccer, hitting, pitching, flag football. Pheasants Forever, Trout Unlimited, the school foundation, dairy and beef banquets, Iowa Firemens Convention, a fur trappers convention, we just about cover it.
There is a smaller room used for meetings, senior dining, driver's ed, league meetings, showers, smaller dinners, reunions, graduation parties, reunions, cards.
We also have a kitchen. We use it as a concession stand as do others. Receptions use it for, well, their receptions as do the banquets, anything that will serve food.
There is an upstairs that we have held meetings in when the other room is busy. Also there are two storerooms upsatirs and one behind the kitchen with a washer and dryer so I can wash the pinnies after basketball and senior dining uses it for their towels.
We print our league forms for our activities. We use different colors of paper for different age/grade groups that way we don't have to read each one when they come back in the mail. We offer basketball, soccer, swim team, baseball, softball, volleyball, flag football, and clinics and beg unsuspecting parents to coach their kids team. The basketball and volleyball are split into two different age/groups while soccer, baseball and softball into four. We don't want anyone to get hurt so we don't put K-1 with 5th-8th. Get real.
Also, we, do some upkeep. We meaning (as of right now) Clayton, Matthew and myself. We'll fix or repair, paint, clean, scrub, shovel snow, change a light bulb or fix the ceiling tiles.
Not including the administrating stuff, meetings, budgets, bids, etc.
That is here.
Across town, we also have to get the pool ready in the spring. That means powerwashing the winter crud out, clean the concession area and appliances, the office, the guard's breakroom, the showers, the bathrooms, put the umbrella skins on the skeletons (always fun), check the ropes, clean the pump and chemical rooms, mow, trim, rake the sand, pull weeds, check the fence, take out the lounge chairs and wash, order chemicals, hire the help and wax the slides.
Schedule swim lessons, parties, work schedules for guards and assistants. Make sure we have WSI's on staff to teach swim lessons, make sure the guards have the proper papers.
Keep daily records of the four chemical tests, the accident reports, the "brat book" and any other documentation up to date before the inspector comes for a three and a half hour visit.
Luckily Dave W. checks all the mechanical things. I'm lucky Dave sticks around.
Of course after the pool opens you have a crisis or two. Sometimes every day. Sometimes all day. Rotten kids (actually had a minor stabbing), creepers, drunks, fecal matter in the pool, on the bathroom walls and/or the floor, blood or vomit in the water or on the deck, someone didn't show up for work, someone fell off the high dive, you know, every day stuff, seven days a week.
Sorry, I forgot about the parks. There is a park with shelter houses (6) to rent out on the fairgrounds (around the BC), trash cans to empty, landscaping to keep clear of weeds. Another park that I will admit is slightly out of the way and neglected. It took me two years to find it but I wasn't in charge at the time. There is another shelter house by the pool to rent out.
There are nine ball diamonds to edge, weed, drag. put new lime on, pulverize, drag some more. There are two at the elementary school, one by the other elementary school, one by the bus barn, two by the gardens and three at the complex that we maintain. Most days at least seven have to be drug, raked and marked. It depends on if it's Little League, PeeWee, T-ball, softball or Prep. That is six days a week, all over town.
At the complex there is also a concession stand and one at the two fields by the gardens to clean along with the bathrooms. Have to order supplies for those also. Also have to make sure there is someone there working the concession stand because I will be at the other working it hoping there is no problems at the pool on the other end of town. Luckily Hailee and Jeff will be here by then.
When you think I'm disorganized, lost in thought, mean, grumpy or downright angry, I might be working on the 60th hour of the week, it's only Wednesday, and I'm filthy and hungry.
I do love my job though. I do love the kids I work with because I know I can send Jeff here, Hailee there while I'm doing this and Matt is doing that and poor Clay will be learning all of this fun stuff this summer. The park board is the best, the community wonderful, the children the greatest. I love it when they yell at me when I'm driving by on the Polaris....actually, I think they just want a ride. Hmmm.
Here at the Berndes Center, aka the youth center, I rent this building out. We have a gym that you can play tennis, volleyball, have one basketball game going North and South or two going East and West. This area is used for wedding receptions, banquets, car shows, rollerblading, reunions, prom, concerts, walking, practices (basketball, soccer, volleyball, football practices, district cross counrty meets for the school), practices for our leagues; basketball, volleyball, soccer, hitting, pitching, flag football. Pheasants Forever, Trout Unlimited, the school foundation, dairy and beef banquets, Iowa Firemens Convention, a fur trappers convention, we just about cover it.
There is a smaller room used for meetings, senior dining, driver's ed, league meetings, showers, smaller dinners, reunions, graduation parties, reunions, cards.
We also have a kitchen. We use it as a concession stand as do others. Receptions use it for, well, their receptions as do the banquets, anything that will serve food.
There is an upstairs that we have held meetings in when the other room is busy. Also there are two storerooms upsatirs and one behind the kitchen with a washer and dryer so I can wash the pinnies after basketball and senior dining uses it for their towels.
We print our league forms for our activities. We use different colors of paper for different age/grade groups that way we don't have to read each one when they come back in the mail. We offer basketball, soccer, swim team, baseball, softball, volleyball, flag football, and clinics and beg unsuspecting parents to coach their kids team. The basketball and volleyball are split into two different age/groups while soccer, baseball and softball into four. We don't want anyone to get hurt so we don't put K-1 with 5th-8th. Get real.
Also, we, do some upkeep. We meaning (as of right now) Clayton, Matthew and myself. We'll fix or repair, paint, clean, scrub, shovel snow, change a light bulb or fix the ceiling tiles.
Not including the administrating stuff, meetings, budgets, bids, etc.
That is here.
Across town, we also have to get the pool ready in the spring. That means powerwashing the winter crud out, clean the concession area and appliances, the office, the guard's breakroom, the showers, the bathrooms, put the umbrella skins on the skeletons (always fun), check the ropes, clean the pump and chemical rooms, mow, trim, rake the sand, pull weeds, check the fence, take out the lounge chairs and wash, order chemicals, hire the help and wax the slides.
Schedule swim lessons, parties, work schedules for guards and assistants. Make sure we have WSI's on staff to teach swim lessons, make sure the guards have the proper papers.
Keep daily records of the four chemical tests, the accident reports, the "brat book" and any other documentation up to date before the inspector comes for a three and a half hour visit.
Luckily Dave W. checks all the mechanical things. I'm lucky Dave sticks around.
Of course after the pool opens you have a crisis or two. Sometimes every day. Sometimes all day. Rotten kids (actually had a minor stabbing), creepers, drunks, fecal matter in the pool, on the bathroom walls and/or the floor, blood or vomit in the water or on the deck, someone didn't show up for work, someone fell off the high dive, you know, every day stuff, seven days a week.
Sorry, I forgot about the parks. There is a park with shelter houses (6) to rent out on the fairgrounds (around the BC), trash cans to empty, landscaping to keep clear of weeds. Another park that I will admit is slightly out of the way and neglected. It took me two years to find it but I wasn't in charge at the time. There is another shelter house by the pool to rent out.
There are nine ball diamonds to edge, weed, drag. put new lime on, pulverize, drag some more. There are two at the elementary school, one by the other elementary school, one by the bus barn, two by the gardens and three at the complex that we maintain. Most days at least seven have to be drug, raked and marked. It depends on if it's Little League, PeeWee, T-ball, softball or Prep. That is six days a week, all over town.
At the complex there is also a concession stand and one at the two fields by the gardens to clean along with the bathrooms. Have to order supplies for those also. Also have to make sure there is someone there working the concession stand because I will be at the other working it hoping there is no problems at the pool on the other end of town. Luckily Hailee and Jeff will be here by then.
When you think I'm disorganized, lost in thought, mean, grumpy or downright angry, I might be working on the 60th hour of the week, it's only Wednesday, and I'm filthy and hungry.
I do love my job though. I do love the kids I work with because I know I can send Jeff here, Hailee there while I'm doing this and Matt is doing that and poor Clay will be learning all of this fun stuff this summer. The park board is the best, the community wonderful, the children the greatest. I love it when they yell at me when I'm driving by on the Polaris....actually, I think they just want a ride. Hmmm.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Meetings, meetings, meetings
I have to attend the goal setting meeting tonight. I was told I didn't have to but I have a feeling I should. I think there will be pizza.
Each department head, the city council members and the city administrator filled out a survey asking what are your needs (a big, fat raise and a company truck!), what direction do you think the city is heading, your thoughts on other departments (that's dangerous) and how they're doing, etc. I can tell you no one has any idea what we have to do. They don't know what the parks needs are anymore than I know what their needs consist of for this year. I do think we need a new skid loader but that's not my department.
We, myself and the park board, and I am going to speak for them here, we seem to be pushed to the back burner. We worked with fundraising, rodeos, contests, dances, asking for donations, filling out grants for four years before we finally were able to buy new playground equipment. I made a statement at one meeting (my filter didn't work that day) that if the police department wanted a robotic dog that shot gernades out its' ass, they'd get one. Let me point out I have nothing against the other departments. At that moment the city administrator walked up behind me as the last of those words were leaving my lips. He started laughing. Dena, our city council member liasion at the time, was laughing, the park board was laughing. So I kept it up by saying that what we want doesn't matter. We suck hind tit. That's how we feel.
That little statement I made was repeated by Dena at the city council meeting. I had to repeat it at the department head meeting and the police chief would like to see a robotic dog that shot grenades out its' ass. That would be cool actually.
Our "want" this year, before the first baseball is cracked off of a bat, is new outfield fencing for one of the ball diamonds. The fencing that is there now, and why they did this is anyone's guess, is maybe two and a half feet tall. Any third grader can plant their butt on it, and they do, and the rail and chain link gets squashed. Not pleasing to look at. It needs to be 4-5 feet tall. We have new backstops now it's time for the outfield. Due to a ordering miscalculation for another field, red cap guards that go along the top of the fence were donated. Thank you Monti Sports!
New backstops, new paint on the bleachers and in the dugouts, painted foul line poles, handicap accessible ramps to the bathrooms, and signs that state there is no soft tossing into the fencing. We're trying to straighten things up, make them look better but it takes time. Please don't let your children climb the backstops. I didn't have that put on the signs. Didn't think I needed to add that.
I hope there's pizza.
Each department head, the city council members and the city administrator filled out a survey asking what are your needs (a big, fat raise and a company truck!), what direction do you think the city is heading, your thoughts on other departments (that's dangerous) and how they're doing, etc. I can tell you no one has any idea what we have to do. They don't know what the parks needs are anymore than I know what their needs consist of for this year. I do think we need a new skid loader but that's not my department.
We, myself and the park board, and I am going to speak for them here, we seem to be pushed to the back burner. We worked with fundraising, rodeos, contests, dances, asking for donations, filling out grants for four years before we finally were able to buy new playground equipment. I made a statement at one meeting (my filter didn't work that day) that if the police department wanted a robotic dog that shot gernades out its' ass, they'd get one. Let me point out I have nothing against the other departments. At that moment the city administrator walked up behind me as the last of those words were leaving my lips. He started laughing. Dena, our city council member liasion at the time, was laughing, the park board was laughing. So I kept it up by saying that what we want doesn't matter. We suck hind tit. That's how we feel.
That little statement I made was repeated by Dena at the city council meeting. I had to repeat it at the department head meeting and the police chief would like to see a robotic dog that shot grenades out its' ass. That would be cool actually.
Our "want" this year, before the first baseball is cracked off of a bat, is new outfield fencing for one of the ball diamonds. The fencing that is there now, and why they did this is anyone's guess, is maybe two and a half feet tall. Any third grader can plant their butt on it, and they do, and the rail and chain link gets squashed. Not pleasing to look at. It needs to be 4-5 feet tall. We have new backstops now it's time for the outfield. Due to a ordering miscalculation for another field, red cap guards that go along the top of the fence were donated. Thank you Monti Sports!
New backstops, new paint on the bleachers and in the dugouts, painted foul line poles, handicap accessible ramps to the bathrooms, and signs that state there is no soft tossing into the fencing. We're trying to straighten things up, make them look better but it takes time. Please don't let your children climb the backstops. I didn't have that put on the signs. Didn't think I needed to add that.
I hope there's pizza.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
SSDD
Things break around here. Mostly people induced. If you hang a poster board sized (no lie) on the door that says "Do not use this door", you would thnk people wouldn't use it. The sidewalk heaved and it is preventing the door from opening all the way. But let us push it until it scrapes the sidewalk and pulls the screws out of the door jamb.
If a cabinet door is locked AND you use a gun lock, compliments of the local police department, and yes, I was supposed to use them on my guns, then you would think people wouldn't want to see what is in the cabinet. Nope. Lets just bugger it up so the hinge breaks and the door hangs. Well, guess what? Matt and I took the hinge off to order more and put a screw in the door to keep you out. And the gun lock are back in place. Are people that moronic? Not even sure why I asked that question when I know the answer.
These are things that screw up a day. I have that mental schedule going and running to the lumber yard was not on that schedule. Messes me up and my day.
The volleyball bracket is done and the teams emailed on what time they play so now I can re-concentrate on the basketball tournament this weekend.
Main concern is where to get a grill. Can't get the parks because there's a snow drift four foot high blocking the drive to the complex besides the two foot of snow on the drive.
I am interrupted in thought by the high school setting up for the Dessert Concert. They're banging tables and stage pieces around. I can't wait to go home.
If a cabinet door is locked AND you use a gun lock, compliments of the local police department, and yes, I was supposed to use them on my guns, then you would think people wouldn't want to see what is in the cabinet. Nope. Lets just bugger it up so the hinge breaks and the door hangs. Well, guess what? Matt and I took the hinge off to order more and put a screw in the door to keep you out. And the gun lock are back in place. Are people that moronic? Not even sure why I asked that question when I know the answer.
These are things that screw up a day. I have that mental schedule going and running to the lumber yard was not on that schedule. Messes me up and my day.
The volleyball bracket is done and the teams emailed on what time they play so now I can re-concentrate on the basketball tournament this weekend.
Main concern is where to get a grill. Can't get the parks because there's a snow drift four foot high blocking the drive to the complex besides the two foot of snow on the drive.
I am interrupted in thought by the high school setting up for the Dessert Concert. They're banging tables and stage pieces around. I can't wait to go home.
Here we go!
I like coming in early in the morning. No offense to Matthew or Clayton, but I like the peace and quiet to think about the day ahead of me. The quiet usually lasts about five minutes when the tennis games are over and the walkers start coming in to make their rounds or the phone will ring. They say hello or goodbye depending on if they're walking or a tennis player. At least I thought a little.
There's so much going on. I have a ballfield that needs a lot of work, another that need new outfield fencing, and seven more that need the usual care before ball season starts. The concession stands will need cleaning and the bathrooms as well.
Then there's the pool. Three days of power washing fun at its' best. Hopefully I won't slip in the crud and make another shit angel like I did last spring. That hurt.
Applications are coming in for the pool. I am in need of lifeguards. I have a feeling I'll have a really good tan this summer. I have numerous pool assisstant apps which will make hiring a little difficult. I can only take so many.
I may add to this later. I have to make up a volleyball tournament schedule, go to city hall, pay a bill or two. I forgot about the tournament....again. Besides, I think Matt would like to use the computer since his is down for a bit. Shouldn't spill on the keyboard!!!
There's so much going on. I have a ballfield that needs a lot of work, another that need new outfield fencing, and seven more that need the usual care before ball season starts. The concession stands will need cleaning and the bathrooms as well.
Then there's the pool. Three days of power washing fun at its' best. Hopefully I won't slip in the crud and make another shit angel like I did last spring. That hurt.
Applications are coming in for the pool. I am in need of lifeguards. I have a feeling I'll have a really good tan this summer. I have numerous pool assisstant apps which will make hiring a little difficult. I can only take so many.
I may add to this later. I have to make up a volleyball tournament schedule, go to city hall, pay a bill or two. I forgot about the tournament....again. Besides, I think Matt would like to use the computer since his is down for a bit. Shouldn't spill on the keyboard!!!
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