the original 'dirty jobs' host

7 kids, civil servant state paid salary, (mostly) stay at home mom. dad took any odd job promising a paycheck. umpire. rural route USPS mail carrier substitute. santa claus (oops... sorry, hunter, if you're reading my blog again, but it's time you knew). bowling alley lane measurer ...wonder where that old lane balance kit went. every odd year, measure odd lanes. every even year, measure even lanes (but i bet the AMF expected every lane measured every year). his made-up? 'every other year' lane rule sounded like a good, efficient way for an overworked working man to cut some corners w/out sacrificing the quality of the lanes. i (or tom) would always help out w/ that job. move the balance down each lane, stopping at 5 spots, and taking 5 readings at each spot. except for the very front of the lane that got the balls bouncing off the old, drying wood, the lanes would be pretty smooth. bowling tournament coordinator. wilson center security guard (a school for messed up youth... no idea if it's still around). the goofiest job was a 'movie theater patron counter'. the movie studios would send him to movies, to have him count the people who attended and/or record which trailers were shown. studios wanted to make sure they were getting their cut. i think dad sat thru the sound of music like 40 times during a stretch back in the day.

dad worked as a 'civil servant' at the mn job service. i assume he would see a huge amount of jobs that would pass thru his office to get filled. he could cherry pick odd jobs for himself that met 4 of these 6 conditions: 1) paid at least so-s0, 2) could be done after normal biz hours on flexible schedule, 3) didn't take advanced degrees or prior experience, 4) had an element of fun to them (see bowling, santa, umpire, movie theater checker, etc), 5) didn't ever report to a 'boss' per se / no direct supervision, and 6) preferably paid in cash. if you'd see hundreds of jobs a month go thru your office, some are bound to meet 4 or 5 of these conditions. his first 9-5 M-F job paid the mortgage and utility bills. and these other jobs put that powdered milk on the table and kept us in jc penney plain pockets.

i'm sure i'm forgetting several 'dirty jobs' that he did (or that i wasn't around yet to witness), but you get the idea. was in farmbo last weekend, and mom came across this old clipping... i had to borrow it to scan in.

and cropped closer for those too lazy to click on the orig. picture to zoom in...

so, where to do the hamburgers fall out?

went to farm-city day tour on WI dairy farm... very (surprisingly) organized... a few thousand city slickers asking the old sage farmers dumb questions...

last year, in the animal barns at a county or state fair, we were schooling hunter on the food we get from the animals... "now, hunter, cows like this are where we get milk and cheese". and we explained the anatomy of the udder, etc. and the "we also get hamburgers from cows". hunter walked around the cow, looking under her legs, at her back end, etc. and asked a clarifying question: "but where do the hamburgers fall out?"





what a great family portrait... but who is the genius photographer? (aside: i'm always paranoid when i type genius... pry one word nobody should ever missppelll)... behold... the long arm of the law(yer)

baseball - day 2

i think the team is really starting to gel. they have uniforms. they love to trace fingers in the dirt, making circles. hit each other w/ their gloves. chase each other. hold hands. run to mamas for water breaks (how many water breaks can they squeeze into one 60 minute practice???). roll around in the gravel. cry. pout. push. giggle. squirm. i mean, really, they're acting like a bunch of 4-5 year olds!


not my kid, but still a great picture of nathan (how is that possible?)

a real homerun!


hunter's #734 fan

defn of wholesome: chewin' tobacco, grabbin' crotches, takin' steroids

and so it begins... hunter's first organized sports practice tonite. baseball (no, i can't and won't call it t-ball). i told the coaches that there was no pressure on them, but if hunter's first practice goes poorly, he may not want to come back for next practice, he may fall way behind everyone else. and he may never play or do any organized sport. ever. but no pressure. he's turning into a shy guy, but luckily his friend nathan was there to distract him. and speaking of nathan, turns out at least *someone* reads this lil piece of the intraweb besides the family... welcome brad... i'll try to update content at least monthly... or not.

here he scoops up a rocket shot, barehanded, and turned a double play (a 6-4-3, natch), winning the game after pitching a no hitter (yes, in between pitches, he played short stop)



the helicopter parent set... ready to pounce at any provocation... wow, i'm not sure i'd want to coach peewee anything in woodbury...


i knew i was at the right field... minivans as far as the eye can see. here's a secret that only folks in woodbury know. none of us lock up any of our minivans or sport cutes. in fact, we all just leave the keys in them. then, when we all leave our suburban baseball fields, or malls, or ymca, we just jump in the closest minivan and drive away. the secret symbol is any sticker/magnet on the back of any sports ball (e.g. soccer ball). i'll pry be kicked out of woodbury for letting non-woodburians know this, but oh, well... my last minivan i drove home happened to be a lexus rx300, so i'm good. excommunicate away