Category Archives: Frank

Roundball Oracles Year 8

It is the time of the year known as March Madness. That, of course means it is also time for me to run my annual NCAA Tournament Pool.

It is open to all interested parties (I’ll take a few uninterested parties as well) regardless of their basketball knowledge. After all, this pool was won by a woman last year* and the 3 years before that is was won by a dude living in Taiwan. You couple that with the fact that somebody with my immense knowledge of the greatest sport ever invented has yet to bring the title home to Union Street means that there is a certain degree of luck involved, so you shouldn’t be too intimidated by my intimate knowledge of the pick and roll.

As always there is no entrance fee. The winner does get a trophy. The only thing one has to risk is pride.

Pride, it would be pointed out by C.S. Lewis is the greatest sin, so you are out of excuses for not getting in to the fray with the combatants from last year.

2011 Final Standings

1. Carrie Baier
2. Jesse Howard
3. Linda Toot
4. Dawn Krause
5. Jason Baier
6. Corey Faust
7. Your Humble Narrator
8. Robert Henning
9. Russell Kennerly
10. Andree Jauhari
11. Nate Buckingham
11. Tim Peterson
13. Lowell Davis
14. Nader Parsaei
15. Mark Wolfram
16. Shaun Kirsch
17. Frank Meiners

The pool of entrants atrophied last year slightly, so I hope to garner more participants this year so all you have to do to get in is email me at:

bennett@photography139.com

And I’ll email you instructions and in no time you’ll be on the road to having your name on the Plaque of Immortals:

Previous Champions

2011 – Carrie Baier
2010 – Mark Wolfram
2009 – Mark Wolfram
2008 – Mark Wolfram
2007 – Tim Peterson
2006 – William McAlpine
2005 – William McAlpine

*I hope that sounded at least half as sexist as I hoped it would, but already two members of the fairer sex have thrown their hat into the arena.

Roundball Oracles Year 7

“In the end, everything is a gag.”

– Charlie Chaplin

 

When it comes to college basketball prognostication, 2011 will be remembered as the Year of the Woman.

Not only did the Roundball Oracles crown our first ever champion from the fairer of the two sexes, three out of the top four finishers were also members of the female persuasion.

It was certainly a chaotic NCAA Tournament this year.  Consider these facts:

 

  • Before the Final Four was even played, our championship was already secured.
  • Only two people (Jesse and I) even got a single Final Four team right. We both got Connecticut right.
  • Our eventual champion’s national champion lost in the 1st Round.
  • 6 people picked Kansas as their champ, 4 picked Duke, 2 people picked Ohio State, 1 person picked Syracuse, 1 person picked UCLA, 1 person picked Michigan State, and 1 person picked BYU. None of those teams even made it to the Final Four.
  • Our eventual champion finished in last place last year.
  • Our 3 time defending champ finished in 2nd to last place this year.
  • Only Jesse got 1 of the teams in the championship game (Connecticut) right.

So who is the new Queen of College Basketball Divination?

 


Baier Family Photo Shoot - 2009


It is Carrie Baier!

 

The Final Standings

Name – Bracket Name – Points – Correct Games – Last Year

  1. Carrie Baier – Izzo – 100 points -41/63 – 21st
  2. Jesse Howard – MeatThermometer – 94 points  – 39/63 – 13th
  3. Linda Toot – LittleSister – 74 points – 38/63 – 9th
  4. Dawn Krause – Duh Winning – 73 points – 34/63 – 3rd
  5. Jason Baier – Duke the Fifth – 72 points – 35/63 – 7th
  6. Corey Faust – Always Go Top Shelf – 69 points – 34/63 – 4th
  7. Christopher D. Bennett – They Call Me Mr. Bennett – 63 points – 31/63 – 18th
  8. Robert Henning – Losing Bracket – 59 points – 32/63 – 8th
  9. Russell Kennerly – StackinWinsLikeJustinBeiber – 59 points – 31/63 – 17th
  10. Andree Jauhari – Floccinaucinihilipilification- 58 points – 31/63 – DNP
  11. Nate Buckingham – White Magic – 57 points – 33/63 – 9th
  12. Tim Peterson – Dominate Monkey – 57 points – 32/63 – 9th
  13. Lowell Davis – Golden voiced hobo lover – 53 points – 34/63 – DNP
  14. Nader Parsaei – Oscar – 51 points – 29/63 – 2nd
  15. Mark Wolfram – Taiwan Hawkeye – 26/63 – 1st
  16. Shaun Kirsch – Lil_Dog – 45 points – 29/63 – DNP
  17. Frank Meiners – Master Picks – 0 points – 0/63 -4th

 

If I were giving an award for the best bracket name, it would clearly go to Andree, but I am not. Perhaps next year.

 

Carrie’s name now sits in the Hall of Champions with the past greats:

Past Champions

2011 – Carrie Baier

2010 – Mark Wolfram

2009 – Mark Wolfram

2008 – Mark Wolfram

2007 – Tim Peterson

2006 – William McAlpine

2005 – William McAlpine

I already can’t wait for the next college basketball season to start and not only because I expect the Cyclones to return to greatness next year. At least I have the Spring Game to look forward to in a couple of weeks. It is football, but it is something.

Proust No. Seven

Becky Perkovich correctly gave 1 of the 4 possible correct answers to the Christopher D. Bennett Trivia Question:

Q: What is Christopher D. Bennett’s favorite movie?

A: Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.

Proust Quote

“Happiness serves hardly any other purpose than to make unhappiness possible.”

Confessions Question

Your idea of happiness:

2009 Answer

Proust Questionnaire Number Ten

When Becky chose her question she said that she hoped to get a “real answer”. It is the kind of disrespect that would normally cause me to cancel her email subscription to this journal.  However, since it is the Christmas season, I will allow it to slide.  All of my answers are real and real is a stupid word.

Actually, it has nothing to do with the Christmas season.  I just sat through an Advent Study where there was frequent discussion about how we become “better people” and have more “peace” during the Christmas season.  I couldn’t really relate to the conversations and hardly ever contributed because I don’t feel that I have more peace or become a better person during Christmas.

I can’t figure out if that makes me an absolutely terrible person or a person of unsurpassed greatness. These are the only two options.

As this question relates to 2010, this question will need to be thought of as “what made you happiest in 2010?”

That is an easy question to answer: Evie.

To extend the answer to this question just a little bit, let me tell you a few tales.

I’ve known for quite some time that Jen and Derrick were trying to have a baby, but the thoughts of me seeing them as parents didn’t really start to materialize until early January.

I was at Derrick and Jill’s parent’s house for Marla’s birthday party.  Sort of.  I was kind of a late addition to the invite list.

Nothing earth-shattering happened while I was there. I would find out later that before my arrival Derrick and Jen had told his parents and Jill that they were pregnant on that night, but my arrival had extinguished all the conversation about the baby. They must have hated me for showing up, but this story is about me and my happiness.  It was the first time that I noticed that Jen was not smoking. I noted it, but didn’t jump to a conclusion.

Later in January Derrick, Jen, Sara, and I attended a Brandi Carlile concert. It was the time of year where we were starting to make plans for the big Iowa State-Kansas State game in Kansas City. We had attended the game the previous year.  Despite some awkwardness to the previous year’s trip (staying at the Bates Hotel, my cousin offering us drugs), I was looking forward to making the trip this year. Possibly with the addition of a couple of new people.

I was talking about how we would make this year’s trip better while we were parked in Sara’s driveway when Derrick utter the following cryptic line:

“I’m not sure if we will be able to make the trip to Kansas City this year.”

He would offer no explanation.

Before the Brandi Carlile concert we dined at the Gateway Market. I noted that Jen drank water.  Jen still was not smoking. In fact, Derrick had yet to have a cigarette.

During the Brandi Carlile concert, Jen went to the bathroom about 14 times.

I was certain now that Jen was pregnant. I waited for the rest of the night for the announcement. I was certain that this was the perfect night to make the announcement. I was certain that they wanted to tell Sara and I together.

The night ended without an announcement. I went to bed confused.

That week I met noted filmmaker H. Richard Stauffer.  He is Frank’s friend. He was working on a musical number in the area.  He invited Jesse and I to come watch him in action on his set. We agreed.

The next day, Sara announced that she would be in Ames for clinicals on the exact same day that Jesse and I were going to be watching the great H. Richard Stauffer in action.  I have had a goal of photographing him since I first met him, but that is a story for another day.

We set up a lunch meeting with Jen and Derrick. I resolved to shaft H. Richard Stauffer because I was pretty sure that at this meeting Jen and Derrick would announce a pregnancy.

I was right, as I sat down at the table, Derrick said: “Hey Chris, we won’t be able to go to the Kansas State game this year. Jen is pregnant.”

There was merriment.

We made an appointment to photograph the happy couple before they became a couple “plus one”.


1 of 6

The next happy moment came a few months later. I’m not sure of the exact month, but I know that it happened before Jen, Derrick, Sara, Cousin Amy and I ate at The Open Flame.

I plopped down on the chair in the Gorshe living room and for the first time I saw a blob on the television that would turn out to be Evie.

While we waited for Sara and Cousin Amy to arrive, we watched the video 3 times. Then we watched it twice with Sara in the room and Cousin Amy waiting for us in the car due to her cat allergies.

I would watch the video a few more times a few weeks later when Jill was back in town. It never really got old. Nor did the gnawing feeling that the video could use background music ever go away.

The next joyous moment came in late August. I have never been to a baby shower, but I got talked into co-hosting a shower with Sara.

My part of the shower was to make sure it was cool enough for guys to attend plus make whatever Sara wanted to happen magically happen. I believe I came through on both fronts.


Gorshe Baby Shower

Gorshe Baby Shower

Gorshe Baby Shower

Gorshe Baby Shower

We found time to cram in one last photo shoot of the Gorshes before the blessed day occurred.


5 of 6 Alternate

Then there was nothing but waiting.

The Iowa State-Kansas State football game came. This was very close to the due date. I was worried that the baby would come while I went down to Kansas City to watch the game. Not really sure why I was worried. It is not like I had a job in this process, but I was antsy nonetheless.

Then my fears seemed to be coming true.

Derrick texted me: “Are you in Kansas City?”

I texted Jill that I was in Kansas City and never heard back.

These two incidents are seemingly innocuous, but in the mind of a…. well in my mind, they spelled “baby on the way”. Let me explain.

Derrick never texts. Derrick is the Chris Bennett of 2007. He hates texting. He can’t stand it when other people text him. It costs him money because he doesn’t have a text messaging plan.

Only once before this day had he text messaged me. That text consisted of scatological humor. In fairness, it was a parody of scatological humor. I believe Jen had to help him send this text.

It seemed very strange to me that out of the blue he would send me a text message. I responded back in the affirmative. He never wrote me back.

Why had he texted me?

I also make a habit of sending text updates about Iowa State games to Jill. She always texts back with appropriate responses: “Yay!!!” or “That’s terrible.”

Why had she not texted me back?

The answer seemed obvious to me. Somewhere in the Mary Greeley birthing center, Jen was bringing the newest Gorshe into the world. Somewhere on I-35, Jill was speeding down to Ames to see her niece or nephew for the first time.

I watched the entire game with this feeling in the back of my head that as soon as the game was over I needed to get back to Ames.

After the conclusion of the game I called Derrick. To my great surprise he answered his phone. He didn’t have any news. He was just genuinely interested in whether or not I had went to Kansas City.

The great rush back to Ames was called off. Jason and I went to Oklahoma Joe’s for supper and the best barbecue I’ve had in my entire life.

I had made plans with Jen and Derrick and Sara for the following Tuesday night. We were going to give them the baby advice book that Sara and I had put together with pictures from the Baby Shower.

Then Tuesday came along. I spent the morning at work texting Jill about the new Maroon 5 album.

Then Derrick called.

“We aren’t going to be able to do dinner tonight.”

“Why is that?”

“We’re at the hospital. Jen’s having the baby.”

I spent the rest of the day texting Jill, all the while dancing around the only topic that could possibly be on either of our minds.

A little after 4 Derrick called with the joyous news. Evie was born healthy (like a lot babies) and adorable (like very few babies).

I just kind of stared at the clock at work for the next couple of hours waiting for Sara to arrive.

Finally 6 o’clock came. Sara showed up. I sent 1 last text to Jill that I was leaving work and going to the hospital. I figured that was safe ground.

She texted back how excited she was to be an aunt and it was a relief to finally be able to talk about it.

Sara and I got to the hospital and got to see and hold Evie. This was my happiest moment of 2010.


Evie!

Evie!

Evie!

Evie!

Evie!

Of course we also got to take this picture too:


6 of 6 Alternate

This concludes the wordy portion of the Proust Questionnaire for 2010. Congratulations to Jen. She just became the 5th person to reach the 100 journal entries about her plateau.

3Peat

“This is the end,

Beautiful friend,

This is the end,

Of our elaborate plans, the end,

Of everything that stands, the end,

No safety or surprise, the end.”

– The Doors (The End)

Another college basketball season has come to an end. It is a sad, sad day. At least it is only 11 days to Iowa State’s Spring Football Game. 11 long days!

The end of another college basketball season means it is time to crown the champion of year 6 of the Roundball Oracles tournament pool.

This is beginning to sound like a broken record, but a few years back Pat Riley was man enough to patent the word 3peat.  What he wasn’t man enough to do is actually 3peat. He came up woefully short in his attempt to win a 3rd straight championship.

Mark Wolfram is not Pat Riley. Mark Wolfram was man enough to be crowned the Roundball Oracles Champion for the 3rd straight year.  It was a little embarrassing when a guy living in Taiwan won the first time.  Even more embarrassing when he repeated last year. I’m not sure if there are words to express how embarrassing it is that he won for a third straight year.

Hopefully next year somebody will step up and snatch that crown off of his head.  Could be you! Could be me! Although I’ll have to rebound from an extremely pathetic performance this year. At least I finished third and won ten bucks in the pool at work.

The Final Standings

1. Mark Wolfram (Taiwan Hoops) – 81 points

2. Nader Parsaei (Charlie Chaplin) – 79 points

3. Dawn Krause (Dawn’s Dunkin’ Dribblers) – 75 points

4. Frank Meiners (Frank’s Picks) – 73 points

4. Corey Faust (Always Go Top Shelf) – 73 points

6. Dan Dill (dan) – 71 points

7. Jason Baier (JLB) – 70 points

8. Robert Henning (Shot In The Dark) – 67 points

9. Nate Buckingham (Wade Lookingbill Allstars) – 65 points

9. Tim Peterson (Dominate Monkey) – 65 points

9. Linda Toot (JWB) – 65 points

12 – Derrick Gorshe (Derrick) – 63 points

13 – Jesse Howard (ISU Yes McDermott No) – 62 points

14 – Becky Perkovich (A169032477) – 61 points

15 – Corey Schmidt (TakeIt2ThaHole) – 58 points

15. Toby Sebring (Lickliter Is Out!) – 58 points

17. Russell Kennerly (i’m also transferring greg) 57 points

18. Christopher D. Bennett (I See Things) – 56 points

19. Jon DeWaard (Lono’s bracket) – 54 points

20. Bill Wentworth (Bill’s Bracket) – 53 points

21. Carrie Baier (Couragers) – 52 points

21 competitors was a new Roundball Oracles record for participants.  4 female competitors was a record for female competitors!

I am hopeful that next year, both of those records will be broken.

You Probably Think this Song is About You

In anticipation of a weekend filled with numerous social engagements, I went to see Monica on Thursday for my quarterly shearing.

I brought along a camera and her intern (she really has an intern) snapped a couple of pictures.


IMAGES LOST

I wanted there to be documented evidence that when Monica trims my facial hair, she does not wear safety glasses. There was a terrible internet rumor circulating that this was the case and I wanted to squash it.

On an unrelated, but semi-related note, I was challenged to a beard growing contest last week.

I have yet to accept the challenge because I don’t know if I can emotionally handle shaving off my facial hair and becoming a dirty nakedface. I know that I will only be a dirty nakedface for a day, but it will still be fairly traumatic.

If I decide to take on the nakedface demon, the contest will start on January 1, 2010 and last 1 month. Frank, the guy that challenged me, wanted to start on December 1, but there was no way that I was going to sport an untamed full beard for Christmas.

I think all of you know how I feel about people under the age of 40 sporting beards. I want to be a nice guy during the Christmas season.

Why Would He Post This?

I don’t really believe in the Greatest Hits album concept. So it will seem somewhat hypocritical for me to reach back into the archives and re-post what I consider to be a classic of my past. But there is a reason for it, other than that I love the sound of my own words… 

Chapter 3: Tenderloining It!

Tenderloining it! I’m sure if you were to rush to your dictionary you would fail to find the term “tenderloining” anywhere within its pages. One of the great things about language is the fact that it is constantly evolving. What was not a word, a correct usage, or a correct spelling will over time be absorbed and become a part of the language. Language evolves. New words are added. Old words are left behind like a vestigial tail. 

“Tenderloining” might not be an accepted English word yet, but if I have my way, it will be a common term in the near future. It will be common to hear people answer questions about their weekend plans with the simple two word retort: “Tenderloining it!” or the variation, “The wife and I are going to tenderloin it up!” The variation will sometimes be accompanied by the optional international “raise the roof” gesture. Two high shrilled “whoos!” will also be optional. 

I personally had been aching to go tenderloining for almost half a year now. I have been passionate about the tenderloin ever since I knew such a sandwich existed. I have been interested in the concept of perfection since I learned that it wasn’t attainable. I have been fascinated by the concept of rankings since I received my first issue of Sports Illustrated as a child. I had been aching to go to a restaurant known as Darrell’s Place in Hamlin, Iowa ever since I knew that they served what was considered to be the best tenderloin in the state. 

Now if you lived in a sissy state like Nebraska, Massachusetts, or Arizona; having the best tenderloin in the state might not mean much. On the other hand, in a state like Iowa (where we know our meat) having the best tenderloin is quite an accomplishment. 

I had to make my own estimations though. A tenderloin aficionado such as myself can’t just merely take the word of somebody else. I had to see, smell, and taste for myself. Not by myself though, but with somebody. 

I am not a solitary creature. If I were to ever send a secret to Post Secret, that wasn’t something meaningful or actually deep, it would be that I don’t like to eat alone. But it just isn’t my fear of dining alone that made me seek out a compatriot for my tenderloin roadtrip. 

It is my belief that a roadtrip, although it can be made alone, is much better when shared. Although this wasn’t going to be a long roadtrip, it was still going to be over 4 hours roundtrip, plus dining time. I needed to find somebody to share the adventure. 

I took a look at the list of my normal roadtrip chums. It didn’t look promising. Most of my friends that would be interested in such a venture had the type of job where you have to work on weekends. My friends that don’t work on the weekend wouldn’t want to drive 2 hours just to eat a tenderloin. There was the possibility of Willy. He only works 4 days a week and does enjoy hitting the open road on occasion. Plus despite his vigorous workout routine, his dietary habits are far from exemplary. The only problem with Willy is that his planner is imaginary and he is notoriously flaky. Particularly when it comes to committing and then backing out of roadtrips. 

Then there was the possibility of Jay. He was definitely a fan of the roadtrip. He is as reliable as Willy is flaky. There were just two problems with Jay. The first one being that in order for him to get a Saturday off, he has to ask for it one lunar cycle in advance, do a rain dance, wish on a falling star, and pray for a miracle. Then if everything breaks just right, he gets a Saturday off. The second problem is that Jay on occasion likes to eat “healthy”. I was worried that we would make the 2 hour drive to Hamlin and when we got there he would embarrass us in front of the locals by ordering a salad. 

When it seemed that all was lost, I was given a surprise. I was discussing my desire to try the state’s best tenderloin with Baier one day. He announced to me that not only had he been to Darrell’s Place, but he was willing to proclaim it the best tenderloin that he had ever taken down. 

Eureka! I had my compatriot! Baier is from Audubon, which is a mere stone’s throw from Hamlin. Not only did I have a compatriot. I had a guide. I had access to a wealth of local knowledge. This might have been divine intervention. 

The only problem now was scheduling a time to make our pilgrimage. It didn’t turn out to be as easy as I had suspected. Despite us both not having most weekends free from work (me from the computer mine and he from his cushy financial planner job) it turns out we sure had a lot of other commitments. It seemed like our schedules were never going to line up. It seemed that the sun and moon crossed paths more than us. 

Yet when all hope seemed to be lost Baier came to me with an offer. He was going to Audubon with his family to witness a dance recital. I could ride along with them, but that would mean spending the night in Audubon. Or I could drive myself and then drive myself back. That would mean losing the communal spiritual experience that is the roadtrip. 

Then I got an e-mail from Shannon about the possibility of getting a little scratch for taking pictures of beans. After I met with her I knew that the shooting schedule was going to be tight. They wanted a pretty quick turnaround. I sent an e-mail to Baier telling him that I needed to back out of the trip. I would have to “work” on Saturday. It turns out that in this relationship I was the one that was flaky. 

Although I badly longed for the taste of the state’s best tenderloin, it did not hurt me too much to send the cancellation notice to Baier. I’ve been called a “true believer” in the past. This roadtrip that we were going to make wasn’t pure. This roadtrip wasn’t all about the tenderloin. This roadtrip was all about a dance recital with a little bit of tenderloin on the side. A little diversion. Nothing more. 

“Tenderloining it” isn’t a diversion. It isn’t eating lunch because we are hungry. “Tenderloining it” is the activity. It is the alpha and the omega. It isn’t the delta, the gamma or the epsilon. I wanted this experience to be about the tenderloin, not something we can do because we are in the area. 

Baier sent an e-mail back that consisted of his booing me. It is not the first time that I have been booed by him. I do not know if it is something that it is in the water in Audubon or if it is merely a Baier family trait, but it is the manner that he shows his lack of approval for the actions of his friends. Although I have been booed numerous times in the past, I had not been booed by him since I told him I was going to watch Barack Obama speak and I asked if he might be interested in attending as well. He booed me. 

I am not a fan of booing. When I attend sporting events I go to cheer for my team. I do not go to deride the other team. I only crack out the “boo” when I am facing evil in its purest form: the Nebraska Cornhusker football team. 

Like all the times in the past, I told Baier that he was a big kid now and he needed to use his “words”. 

He booed me again. Then there was silence. 

Late on Thursday I got an e-mail from Baier. The e-mail was entitled “My Final Offer”. This sounded an awful lot like an ultimatum. Although it has never been diagnosed (nor do I even fathom that something like this exists) I have a firm belief that I suffer from a Psychological Reactance Disorder. I considered for a second not even opening up this ultimatum. 

Then a vision of the best tenderloin in the state of Iowa danced across my head. I decided to take the risk of opening the arrogantly title e-mail. I gave Baier his “final chance”. 

Turned out that his final offer was actually a pretty good offer. He proposed that I take off work an hour early on Tuesday. He would pick me up and then we would be on the road to tenderloin greatness. Furthermore, he proposed an extra stop to help settle a family dispute. 

Baier’s old man used to run a Ford dealership in Exira, which is about another stone’s throw from Hamlin. The Old Man always claimed that Darrell’s Place did not deserve its place in the Tenderloin Pantheon. A place in Exira called the Red Barn served the superior tenderloin. Baier proposed that we call ahead and order 1 tenderloin to go from the Red Barn and then split it between us on the way to Hamlin. He was proposing nothing less than Tenderloin Judgment Day. 

The prospect of sitting in judgment on not 1, but 2 tenderloins excited me. I wrote him back immediately that his proposal was accepted and I looked forward to the 2 Tenderloin Roadtrip, as it will become known to future generations. 

The Tuesday came. It was New Taste Tuesday and it was Steve’s turn in the rotation. There was some debate about whether or not it should in fact be Steve’s choice since on the previous Tuesday he had vetoed Frank’s choice of The Café and then took us to Dublin Bay. 

Frank chose to take the higher road and allowed Steve to have the choice and Steve chose Indigo Joe’s. I was hoping that this would be a quick restaurant since I was hoping that we would have enough time left over for us to make a stop at Best Buy so I could pick up the 2 Disc Special Edition of “Pan’s Labyrinth” and Steve would still have time to have his smoky treat. 

As we were cruising down Duff I hatched a rather brilliant plan. Indigo Joe’s is a sports bar. I could have a tenderloin for lunch and have perhaps the first 3 tenderloin day in recorded history. (Although some killjoys would no doubt want an asterisk placed next to my record and it stated that in fact I really only had 2.5 tenderloins.) 

However, it would be a moot point. Indigo Joe’s does not have a tenderloin on their menu. A mistake they would compound by having extremely slow service. Which slightly surprises me since we sat in the bar area and I almost always get fantastic service when I sit in the bar area. That surprise aside, my dream of buying “Pan’s Labyrinth” was squashed. 

I returned to the mine content to just finish out my workday. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A little after 5 pm Baier showed up. I was done with my work for the day and I only had to hand off the kid that was job shadowing me to the Company President. It had been about 20 minutes since Angie handed the kid off to me and I had yet to show him anything that even slightly interested him. I offered to show him the insides of a computer and he said he didn’t want to see them. He was equally unimpressed by our server rack The South Parker Server was also a bust. It was after 5 so I handed him off to his next keeper. 

By the time I handed him off we were already behind schedule. So my brief hope of making a stop at Best Buy was once again extinguished. Instead I grabbed the Maxxum 5D and we loaded up his car and hit US30 heading west. 

On the way to Exira we made polite conversation. It ranged from the buffoonery of many NFL players to the times we shared at Dasher Mismanagement to religion to capitol punishment. They were the type of every day conversation that two intellectual giants have when they are sharing one another’s company. I wonder if it was the kind of conversation that Van Gogh and Gauguin might have shared when they lived together in that yellow house in Arles. Perhaps Baier and I could open up a colony in southern Iowa for fellow tenderloin lovers. That might just be a pipe dream though. 

About 10 minutes from Exira Baier called The Red Barn and placed our order for one tenderloin. Perhaps two dudes with less security in their sexuality might not have been able to split a tenderloin. Fortunately we didn’t have this problem. 

When we arrived at Exira he pointed out The Red Barn to me. At first I thought he was joking. From the outside it looked like a little shack. It was maybe ¼ the size of the Whistle Stop Café in Boone. It wasn’t even a barn. It was a tragic misnomer. The Red Tool Shed would have been or accurate name. I tried to remind myself that looks could be deceiving. Some of the best barbecue in the world is in a little dump called Big Daddy’s in Des Moines. This could be the Big Daddy’s of Exira and the tenderloin world. 

We didn’t stop though. Baier just cruised right on by. I peered at the window longing for the tenderloin that waited for us inside. 

“Where you going?” I demanded. 

“I’m going to give you the tour of Exira. Plus I need to stop at Casey’s and do some damage to their restroom.” He answered. 

Truth be known, Baier is not the type of guy that would use that type of description of the human body’s biological function of waste disposal. I just feel like if I didn’t make the description more colorful, it might be less believable. Women need to think that when men are together without female supervision that it is utter chaos. A steady stream of profanity, crotch grabbing, scatological humor, and rubber necking. 

It is safer to think that he said something along the lines of “drain the lizard, take the kids to the river, see a guy about a horse, or drain the main vein.” Truth is that he probably said something to the effect that he need use Casey’s facilities. 

Whatever he said, I got the nickel tour of Exira. It consisted of driving up one road and stopping at Casey’s. While we were at Casey’s I also decided to take a leak. When I got out of the bathroom Baier was standing in front of an ATM machine. He seemed to be staring it down. But he wasn’t attempting to use it. He was just staring at it. 

I broke his concentration by offering, “It must have impressed the natives when this type of technology became available to them two weeks ago.” 

“I’m just trying to decide if I want to get any money.” 

We stood there in silence for a few moments and then he indicated that it wouldn’t be necessary. Moments later we were back in the car driving the six blocks back to The Red Barn. 

We parked on the east side of the restaurant. The Red Barn is a rectangular shaped building. We entered through a door that was square in the middle of one of the long sides of the rectangle. 

Once inside I checked out both halves of the restaurant. On the left it looked like we had walked into somebody’s kitchen. It was not the industrial kitchen that I was used to seeing. It looked like my Grandma’s kitchen. The difference being that my Grandma has a pizza oven in her kitchen. I didn’t see a piece of equipment that looked that professional grade in this kitchen. 

The other half of the restaurant contained four tables. Three of those tables were filled with townies. I have often heard the term small town hospitality. I have often been the recipient of small town hospitality. Don’t think that I dislike small towns. To the contrary, I hate cities. I love small towns. That being said, we were not the recipient of any small town hospitality. 

The townies were staring bullets at us. For whatever reason, they did not want us there. I hoped silently that our sandwich was ready and we wouldn’t have to occupy the 4th table and wait. I didn’t want to answer any question like: 

“Where you boys from?” 

“You from the city? I can smell city on you!” 

“You boys ain’t from around here, are ya?” 

“Those are pretty clothes ya wearin’. You get those at a JC Penny’s” 

“You want to squeal like a pig?” 

My hopes were answered though. A teenage girl was working the counter. Baier stepped up to the counter. I subconsciously stepped with him. I didn’t want to separate too far from him. Just in case one of these townies wanted to back up the smack their glares were talking. 

“I have a to go order for Baier.” He said. 

The girl turned around and grabbed a brown paper bag that had his name written upon it. She came back and said, “$3.65” 

Baier pulled out his credit card and said, “Do you take credit?” 

The teenage girl began to speak, but before she could I cut her off, “Dude, we are in the sticks! You really think they are going to take credit cards.” 

As I uttered the words I realized that I had just exponentially increased our odds of having somebody make one of us squeal like a pig. The bad news was that we didn’t have a young Burt Reynolds waiting in the car for us. 

Baier was nonplused and repeated the question. 

Now that I had insulted the area, she seemed a little embarrassed to say, “No, we don’t.” I think she was wishing that they did take credit cards so she could have shut me up. 

Baier moved on to form of payment number two. 

“Do you take checks?” 

“Yes, we do.” She said. 

“From out of town?” 

“No we don’t.” 

“But my parents live in Audubon.” Baier tried to negotiate. 

At this point I could feel the eyes of 6 or 7 townies burrowing into me. I had my wallet out and was reaching for the cash that I had brought with me because I didn’t even think we would see an ATM machine where we were going. But before I got my twenty out, the teenage girl had turned and walked back to a wall. I presume that behind the wall was the fryer. 

“Can we take a check from out of town if their parents live in Audubon?” 

The voice that answered was not kind or friendly. In fact it could only be described as snotty. That voice answered, “I’d prefer not to.” 

The teenage girl came back up to the counter and gave us the bad news that we had already heard. 

“That is really okay,” I said pushing the twenty into her hand. “I have cash.” 

She took the money and brought me back my change. Baier grabbed the sandwich and I made haste to get out of the line of sight of the townies. 

Once I was back outside the fresh air emboldened me. Although I felt very claustrophobic inside the restaurant, I wasn’t quite ready to leave the fair town of Exira. I reached into the backseat and grabbed the Maxxum 5D. I felt like taking some pictures of the area. 

I had only brought my 50mm lens. It has pretty much become my standard lens and I hardly ever switch to a different lens. A fixed focal length lens is a good lens for a photographer to use when they are first starting out. It teaches you discipline. So I was not able to get any wide angle shots of anything, but I took some pictures of The Red Barn, the Exira town sign, and of some grain bins. 

I got back into the car and Baier asked if I wanted to go see the “Plow in the Oak”. It was nearby. I most certainly did. 

I had read about the “Plow in the Oak” on a few occasions. It is exactly what it sounds like. A plow that over time is slowly being devoured by an Oak tree. Legend has it that a farmer left the plow next to the oak to go off to fight in the Civil War. As the years piled up and the owner never returned the oak grew around the plow. Eventually it gobbled up the plow. 

I had even seen pictures of the “Plow in the Oak”. Jay and Willy had once stopped and taken pictures of the oddity on a rare roadtrip where Willy hadn’t flaked out. 

We headed out of Exira and stopped at the “Plow in the Oak” Park. It was decided that we should have dinner before desert. We split up the tenderloin and took it down. It was indeed a very tasty tenderloin. One of the best tenderloins I have ever had. However, could it compete with the tenderloin that legend claims is the best in the Cyclone State? That was yet to be determined. 

We exited the car and followed the signs that pointed us in the direction of what we had come to see. At the far south end of the park there is indeed an oak tree with a plow sticking out of two sides of it. Not much though. There was maybe two inches of the plow sticking out on both sides. If I was the type that did any reckoning, I’d reckon that the plow would be completely devoured within the next 5 years. 

As we walked back to the car Baier became excited. I think he was invigorated by smelling his native air. He stated that he wished we had more time so we could go see the “Tree in the Road”. 

Knowing full well what the answer was going to be I asked, “What is the ‘Tree in the Road’?” 

“It is a tree in the middle of a road.”
Honestly I am interested in seeing this oddity, but I’m more interested in a people that would just let a tree grow in the middle of a road. These aren’t my people though. I’m a Boonie. I don’t think I will ever quite understand the mentality that just watches a tree grow in the middle of a road and doesn’t think: 

“We might want to do something about that.” 

I merely indicated that we will have to do that sometime. Then I handed over the Maxxum 5D. 

“Hold this, please.” I said than I began digging in the backseat for a tripod. 

At the beginning of every great roadtrip I think about taking a roadtrip group picture. I always envision a picture of the group of hardy travelers pictured next to their noble steed. I never end up taking this picture because Willy flakes out and puts me in a foul mood. This time I wasn’t to be denied. 

“It is time for the roadtrip group picture.” 

“What is that?” 

“A picture of us with our noble steed.” 

I began to setup the tripod and the camera and I turned around and saw that Jason was sitting on the hood of his car. 

“Think you will have time to get up on the hood of the car?” he asked. 

“The timer will be set for 10 seconds, which will be plenty of time, but are you sure that your hood can handle this much weight?” 

This was the question I thought, but what I really thought was that this picture is going to look kind of gay. I wondered if it was things like this that had made some scholars postulate that Gauguin and Van Gogh had “got it on! Whooo!” 

“It can handle it.” 

“This might look a little gay.” 

He answered, “For two people less secure in their sexuality that would be a problem.” 

It was an airtight argument. Neither of us was the type to answer a question about a perceived feminine activity with the answer, “because I’m not gay” or “let me check, nope I don’t have a vagina.” 

So I started the timer and jumped softly onto the hood of the car next to Baier. Quite frankly though, I was never really very comfortable. It seemed to me that any moment the hood was going to collapse and the roadtrip would be over. That would have been a tragedy for Baier’s car and a tragedy for future generations would only know this roadtrip as the “Failed Tenderloin Roadtrip”.
 

Once I was back outside the fresh air emboldened me. Although I felt very claustrophobic inside the restaurant, I wasn’t quite ready to leave the fair town of Exira. I reached into the backseat and grabbed the Maxxum 5D. I felt like taking some pictures of the area.

I had only brought my 50mm lens. It has pretty much become my standard lens and I hardly ever switch to a different lens. A fixed focal length lens is a good lens for a photographer to use when they are first starting out. It teaches you discipline. So I was not able to get any wide angle shots of anything, but I took some pictures of The Red Barn, the Exira town sign, and of some grain bins. 

I got back into the car and Baier asked if I wanted to go see the “Plow in the Oak”. It was nearby. I most certainly did. 

I had read about the “Plow in the Oak” on a few occasions. It is exactly what it sounds like. A plow that over time is slowly being devoured by an Oak tree. Legend has it that a farmer left the plow next to the oak to go off to fight in the Civil War. As the years piled up and the owner never returned the oak grew around the plow. Eventually it gobbled up the plow. 

I had even seen pictures of the “Plow in the Oak”. Jay and Willy had once stopped and taken pictures of the oddity on a rare roadtrip where Willy hadn’t flaked out. 

We headed out of Exira and stopped at the “Plow in the Oak” Park. It was decided that we should have dinner before desert. We split up the tenderloin and took it down. It was indeed a very tasty tenderloin. One of the best tenderloins I have ever had. However, could it compete with the tenderloin that legend claims is the best in the Cyclone State? That was yet to be determined. 

We exited the car and followed the signs that pointed us in the direction of what we had come to see. At the far south end of the park there is indeed an oak tree with a plow sticking out of two sides of it. Not much though. There was maybe two inches of the plow sticking out on both sides. If I was the type that did any reckoning, I’d reckon that the plow would be completely devoured within the next 5 years. 

As we walked back to the car Baier became excited. I think he was invigorated by smelling his native air. He stated that he wished we had more time so we could go see the “Tree in the Road”. 

Knowing full well what the answer was going to be I asked, “What is the ‘Tree in the Road’?” 

“It is a tree in the middle of a road.”
Honestly I am interested in seeing this oddity, but I’m more interested in a people that would just let a tree grow in the middle of a road. These aren’t my people though. I’m a Boonie. I don’t think I will ever quite understand the mentality that just watches a tree grow in the middle of a road and doesn’t think: 

“We might want to do something about that.” 

I merely indicated that we will have to do that sometime. Then I handed over the Maxxum 5D. 

“Hold this, please.” I said than I began digging in the backseat for a tripod. 

At the beginning of every great roadtrip I think about taking a roadtrip group picture. I always envision a picture of the group of hardy travelers pictured next to their noble steed. I never end up taking this picture because Willy flakes out and puts me in a foul mood. This time I wasn’t to be denied. 

“It is time for the roadtrip group picture.” 

“What is that?” 

“A picture of us with our noble steed.” 

I began to setup the tripod and the camera and I turned around and saw that Jason was sitting on the hood of his car. 

“Think you will have time to get up on the hood of the car?” he asked. 

“The timer will be set for 10 seconds, which will be plenty of time, but are you sure that your hood can handle this much weight?” 

This was the question I thought, but what I really thought was that this picture is going to look kind of gay. I wondered if it was things like this that had made some scholars postulate that Gauguin and Van Gogh had “got it on! Whooo!” 

“It can handle it.” 

“This might look a little gay.” 

He answered, “For two people less secure in their sexuality that would be a problem.” 

It was an airtight argument. Neither of us was the type to answer a question about a perceived feminine activity with the answer, “because I’m not gay” or “let me check, nope I don’t have a vagina.” 

So I started the timer and jumped softly onto the hood of the car next to Baier. Quite frankly though, I was never really very comfortable. It seemed to me that any moment the hood was going to collapse and the roadtrip would be over. That would have been a tragedy for Baier’s car and a tragedy for future generations would only know this roadtrip as the “Failed Tenderloin Roadtrip”. 

Fortunately the ten seconds flew by and the shutter clicked. Potential disaster was averted. The hood and car were still in one piece as we hopped off the hood. We hopped back in the car and got back on the highway. Destination: “Best Tenderloin in Iowa.”
 

We pulled into Hamlin five minutes later. There isn’t much to the town. I’d say a few houses, Darrell’s Place, and a junkyard. Darrell’s place and the junkyard are right next to one another. Literally the east wall of Darrell’s place is facing a junkyard. There is a fence in the parking lot that separates Darrell’s place from the junkyard. 

I had only seen something like this on one other occasion. Not surprisingly, that other occasion is south of the Mason-Dixon Line. When we were in Louisiana and we were searching for a place to eat we drove past a Church’s Chicken that sat on a corner lot. On two sides of the lot were streets. The other two sides of the lot were fences that separated the restaurant from a junkyard. On that day we chose to keep looking. On this day, I accepted the junkyard as just a small town quirk. A story that could be told later: 

“The tenderloin was fantastic, but you won’t believe this little factoid. It actually shared a wall with a junkyard. I’m serious.” 

We pulled onto the lot. I was relieved to see that this was an actual full sized restaurant. Although it looked like it was a steel building and a little more like a year round State Fair food stand than a restaurant, I was glad for its size. At least if we were crowded in with townies, at least we could keep some distance. 

We walked in the door and sat ourselves. We choose a table that was near a stack of Darrell’s Place merchandise. I also noted that we were directly in front of a lottery machine. This restaurant had bathrooms. Two bathrooms, one for men and one for women. It had a salad bar. I had a full bar. Although it wasn’t enormous, this was a real restaurant. Not a food stand masquerading as a restaurant. It isn’t that I mind food stands. On the contrary, there is pork place that sets up shop in downtown Boone that is incredible. I just prefer that things be true to themselves. Don’t pretend to be a restaurant when you are a glorified food stand. 

I looked over the merchandise and although I had full intended to purchase some memento to remember the trip, I only came home with a belly full of pork and a brain full of memories. It turned out that the merchandise was horribly ugly. Not in the splash the American flag and an eagle on a t-shirt Harley Davidson style ugly. (Also known as Art in the Park ugly – I mean really who looks at a saw blade with a picture of John Wayne painted on it and hopes they have enough wall space left for that.) It was more like they had taken no effort to design anything at all. The shirts and hat only said the name and address of the place in a nondescript font. I decided to pass and I sat down across from Baier. 

I was facing the west wall. The west wall was filled with booths. Those booths were filled with people. Note that I write people and not townies. These people seemed to be interested in their own conversations and their own compatriots. When they did look at us, it seemed like they were happy to see us. We weren’t invaders from the big city horde. We were fellow travelers in the night, only seeking the best tenderloin we could find. This was the kind of small town hospitality you read about it. 

Darrell’s Place is the kind of place that keeps the menus on the table. We were looking at the menus when the waitress came to take our order. 

Baier had the unmitigated gall to ask me if I was going to get a tenderloin. Did he think that we had traveled over 2 hours for me to see what kind of burger this joint made? Did he think that I was going to embarrass him like Jay had once embarrassed Jesse and I buy ordering boneless wings at Wings to Go? Did he think when I was offered a heaven, I would say, “No thanks. I’m going to check out purgatory and Hell first and see what they have to offer. If I don’t anything I like I’ll probably settle on heaven if the property taxes aren’t too high.” This was the sole purpose of our trip. Why would I drop the ball? Would I look at the menu and be think “Ooh they serve catfish! I wonder if that is any good?” 

It was with no small amount of incredulous that I said, “We drove halfway across the state to try this tenderloin, why would I get something else?” 

The waitress then said, “You didn’t drive halfway across the state for this.” Then she shot me a look that said, “Keep your BS to a minimum mister. This is Hamlin, Iowa. We only want straight shooters in our midst.” 

I was going to be called out on the carpet for speaking the near truth. So I reiterated. “Actually we did. We got off work and drove from Ames for this. Although perhaps not literally half the state, I think it is in the general ballpark.” 

The rest of the ordering process went fairly confrontational free. The only hiccup being that they served two different types of fried cheese. Now here is another little secret for you. I love me some fried cheese. When the day comes that I have a massive coronary from eating all this fried food and the doctor tells me no more “fried cheese products”, I’ll have to look him straight in the eye and ask him, “How many more heart attacks do you think I can survive?” or perhaps I will just tell him that I read somewhere that fried cheese was an antioxidant and was good for your heart and I believe things I “read” more than what some doctor is going to tell me. 

We reached the compromise that Baier ordered one type of fried cheese and I order the other. I have no doubt that history will record this event as the “Great Fried Cheese Compromise of 2007” and it will be placed next to the other great compromises of history like “The 3/5 Compromise” and the “She Sure Married Beneath Her Compromise” that is seen the world over. 

As we sat waiting for our fried food to come our way I noticed that the people of Hamlin sure enjoy playing the lottery. Somebody must have come by our table to visit the lottery machine every few minutes. 

After the third person came by to self tax themselves and move the tax burden from the wealthy to the poor, our food arrived. At first I was a little bit worried. The tenderloin looked identical to the tenderloin we had just eaten in Exira. The conspiracy theorist in me was worried. What if The Red Barn had secretly infiltrated Darrell’s Place in a bit of corporate sabotage and stolen the recipe of the greatest tenderloin in Iowa? 

One bite into this sandwich assuaged my fears though. Although the breading was identical, the sandwich did in fact taste different. This was indeed the superior sandwich. The only thing that the Exira tenderloin had going for it in comparison is that you have to ask the good folks at Darrell’s Place to toast your bun. Yet having to ask for your bun toasted is a small price to pay for the superior hunk of meat. 

The fundamental question remains: “Is it the best tenderloin in the state of Iowa?” It was a great tenderloin. Perhaps the greatest I have ever had, but I am not ready to proclaim it the greatest in the state. I still need to do some research on this subject. 

As for the fried cheese? One type of fried cheese was basically the same fried cheese that you can find in about every restaurant in the world. I’m not knocking it. It is some pretty good stuff. 

The second fried cheese product was a bit different. It wasn’t quite as good, despite being unique. This fried cheese still had the consistency of a curd. It was good, but not quite as good. 

We finished up our meal and paid the bill. As we exited the building I noticed that we had lost most of the light. I grabbed the Maxxum 5D and took some low light shots of the parking lot and the junkyard. After I was satisfied with what I had I got back in the car and headed towards home. 

The ride home included more polite conversation about religion and the NBA and old times at Dasher Mismanagement and making fun of Guthrie Center. When we were about 20 miles outside of Ogden on 169 Baier said that he was disappointed in Russell. He had told Russell that Greg and Amanda were getting married and Russell hadn’t told Andree.
“What?” 

“Yeah, he never told Andree.” 

“I didn’t know Greg and Amanda were getting married.” 

Fortunately the ten seconds flew by and the shutter clicked. Potential disaster was averted. The hood and car were still in one piece as we hopped off the hood. We hopped back in the car and got back on the highway. Destination: “Best Tenderloin in Iowa.” 

Big Empty

Too much walkin’, shoes worn thin
Too much trippin’ and my soul’s worn thin
Time to catch a ride it leaves today
Her name is what it means

I’d say that there is a fair chance that when the Stone Temple Pilots recorded the song Big Empty, they were not thinking about how I feel the day after college basketball season ends. But it will pass as a close approximation.

The end of the season means the coronation of a new King of the Brackets in my pool of friends. This year the person that displayed the most prescience was again Mark Wolfram.

Roundball Oracles 2009 Final Standings
1. Mark Wolfram – Taiwan Hoops – 135 Points
2. Jason Baier – Mcdermite – 133 Points
3. Frank Meiners – Frank Meiners – 131 Points
4. Russell Kennerly – thefightingmattfortes – 128 Points
5. Dan Dill – dandydanl – 126 Points
6. Christopher D. Bennett – The Future – 124 Points
7. Nate Buckingham – Wade Lookingbill Allstar picks – 91 Points
8. Corey Faust – Tubbyville – 82 Points
9. Toby Sebring – Car Ramrod – 79 Points
10. Jesse Howard – Goldies Dance Card – 73 Points
11. Robert Henning – Fill It Up – 69 Points
12. Nader Parsaei – Charlie Chaplin – 45 Points
13. Lowell Davis – Waiting For Baseball Season – 0 Points

Past Champions
2005 – William McAlpine
2006 – William McAlpine
2007 – Tim Peterson
2008 – Mark Wolfram

It is admittedly slightly embarrassing that a dude living in Taiwan has won our NCAA tourney pool back to back years.

A Sign I Want

I went to the ISU Surplus Sale on Wednesday with Vest, Frank and Jesse. When we walked in the door I saw a song that I badly wanted.

PHOTO LOST

Unfortunately the sign was not for sale and the machine it was attached to was $3000. A bit more than I’m willing to spend for a cool sign.