I’d like to give a big thanks to my fence crew that over the course of 4 intense work days over the last couple of months built a fence for me.

Thanks to:

Jason Stensland
Jay Janson
Andree Jauhari
Joshua Kraushaar
Derrick Gorshe
Scottie D.

Here are a few pictures from the project:

Me and my friends put a lot of sweat equity in this project. The heat index was well over 110 on at least 1 of the days we worked on this project. But I’m sure it will be worth it when I finally complete Operation Puppy!

“DOWN GOES NATURE! DOWN GOES NATURE! DOWN GOES NATURE!”
-The voice of Howard Cosell inside my head

At exactly 10 PM on July 29. 2010, I popped the top on two bottles of Virgil’s Micro-brewed Root Beer and Dawn and I celebrated the end of Hedgegeddon. We had just dumped the final body of my fallen enemies into the burn pile at Scottie D.’s Mom’s place. It was over. Mankind was victorious!

It wasn’t easy though. Nature put up a good fight. I have complete and utter respect for nature, but on this front, I was the victor.

It took quite the effort though:

• 3 spades were broken
• 1 shovel met its demise
• 2 pairs of gloves were destroyed
• I was forced to bring a hat out of retirement
• 3 different trucks were used
• 2 sets of chains
• 7 different people helped in the process
• 2 different neighbors stopped by to say that it looked like “hard work”

Thanks to the following people for helping me win my ultimate battle with nature:

• Scottie D.
• Jason
• Derrick
• Dawn
• Willy
• Becky
• Jesse

We took a few pictures of the ceremonial removing of the final hedge. Scottie D. was there at the beginning and there at the end, so he gets a very special thanks. Plus he even cut down a bonus bush after we removed the final hedge.

The Last Hedge


The Path of Destruction


Dead Hedge Waiting to be Removed


The Last Hedge


Scottie D. and I with the Last Hedge


The Same


The Beginning of the End


The Battle is Almost Won


A Matter of Time…


Down Goes Nature! Down Goes Nature!


Mission Accomplished


Present Arms


Scott claimed that he would be able to cut down this bush in under 1 minute. I pulled out the old Gra Lab Enlarger Timer and timed him.


I haven’t seen a wife prouder of her husband since Jen and Derrick when he took down the Gunderburger.


He didn’t quite make his 1 minute goal, but Scott definitely took this bush down in under 3 minutes.


Doing a little cleanup.

Now that the destruction part of my backyard plan has been completed (for now… I’m looking at you currant bushes) I will be diving head first into my fence building plan.

I smell a fence building party on the horizon!

Small people talk about other people.
Average people talk about things.
Great people talk about ideas.

When I first began my sentence with the Boone Outpost of the Evil Clown Empire, there was a ludicrous sign posted in the crew room that had this observation written on it. I’m not sure who put the sign up or who they were trying to fool or how much they were trying to lie themselves, but the wage slaves of this joint were at least 60% high school students or middle aged women. Talking about other people is what high school students and middle aged women do.

If that sign is to be believed, I hang out with lots of “small people” because when my entourage and I are hanging around the Photography 139 water cooler, a popular topic of conversation is: “What is the dumbest thing Shannon Bardole has ever done?”

Recently Shannon took this topic of discussion off the table forever. Recently Shannon did something so foolish, so ill-conceived that there is no longer even the minutest amount of room for debate.

When I moved into my humble abode I found a few things that the previous occupants left behind. Amongst those things was two jars of pickles.

My first (and the only rational inclination) was to dispose of these potentially toxic inedibles in the nearest refuse bin and forget that they ever existed.

I did not do what logic and safety dictates because Shannon insisted that she would like to try these homemade pickles that she had no information on. I mostly thought she was blowing hot air as people are prone to do, but I maintained ownership of the pickles just in case.

The Highly Suspect Pickles

On the night of my Birthday Barbecue she did in fact remove a pickle from this jar and eat at least 50% of the pickle.

That was over a month ago and last I knew Shannon was still alive, but eating a pickle from this jar is still “The Dumbest Thing Shannon Bardole has Ever Done”.

On a completely unrelated note, she also recently jumped out of a plane. Here are some pictures:

Training


More Training


Even More Training


Her Noble Steed


Landing Practice, I Believe


More Noble Steed


The Pilot Explaining Aviation to Todd


Photographing Another Skydiver


Peggy Photographing Another Skydiver


It is surprising what passes for “Authorized Activities” in this day and age.


Shannon did not get to jump on the first day because it was too windy and she is too Lilliputian.


More Training


Strapped In


The Protective Helmet


Danger?


Fashionable Safety Goggles


Loading Up


Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;


Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds…and done a hundred things


You have not dreamed of…wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,


It is hard to figure out what happened in the previous picture, so hopefully this helps.


I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.


Up, up, the long, delirious burning blue
I’ve topped the windswept heights with easy grace


Where never lark, nor even eagle flew.
And while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod


The high untrespassed sanctity of space…
…put out my hand, and touched the face of God.


I should have found a longer poem.


The Cyclone Parachute


Almost to the Ground


Closer…


Terra Firma


Boring Terra Firma


Seems Like a Fist Bump Might Have Been in Order Here


Packing up and Going Home


This is kind of a random image. Todd wanted me to take a picture of the barbed wire, so here is that picture.

I am thinking of adding a weekly segment to this journal where lesser gardeners can ask me questions about how I became such a super badass gardener and I would sprinkle my nuggets of wisdom on them. If you have any questions, leave them in the Comments section of this journal entry and I may answer your question next week.

Monday night was Round 3 of the epic struggle between Man(kind) and Nature known as Hedgegeddon. Round 1 went to Nature in a very decisive manner. Very decisive. Round 2 was even more of a rout as 4 people backed out with severe cases of fear and trepidation.

Round 3 was the clearly won by Mankind though. It started out rough as the first two hedges eluded the grasp of the chain and remained in the ground. However, after a change in strategy, it was all Mankind.

We managed to completely remove the entire South Hedge without killing and/or maiming the hollyhocks.

Although I clearly intend to win this epic struggle before it goes to the judges’ scorecards, this is what the scorecard looks like at this moment:

Round 1 – Nature 10-8
Round 2 – Nature 10-8
Round 3 – Mankind 10-9
Total – Nature 29-26

Even though I(we) are clearly trailing in the battle at this moment, I can already hear Howard Cosell’s voice bellowing in my head as the last hedge comes free from terra firma:

“Down goes Nature! Down goes Nature! Down goes Nature!”

But in a good way, not in the BP way.

Here are a few pictures that show off some of my super badass gardening skills:

Although I like to use the hollyhocks to make lesser gardeners jealous, it is my moss rose that makes me the most proud. I am excited because I have some lilies that are just getting ready to bloom. Plus my coneflowers are almost ready to bloom. I’m guessing that it won’t be long before the moonflower buds and blooms. It is an exciting time for my yard.

A collection of unrelated photos and stories…

Bill’s Return

Bill returned to Boone briefly on Saturday. A few pictures from our time together.

At FNSC Willy agreed to attempt to eat ice cream on 100 straight days. At first he balked at attempting such a thing, but the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. He shook hands on the deal and “locked it in”. Saturday was Day 15 of this new challenge. He had a Dairy Queen banana split.

In February of 2005 Jay talked Bill into coming back from Nebraska so that Jay could film a sequel to our “hit” Games. It has been over 5 years since that cold day in Ledges and Jay has yet to complete and release Games 2. In the pictures above, Bill is asking Jay to give up “editing” of Games 2 and give the footage to somebody that would finish the movie. Jay is enjoying Bill’s frustration as much as Willy enjoys ice cream. Willy is enjoying Bill’s frustration and Jay’s enjoyment of Bill’s frustration.

A Group Photo

A couple of people from my Church came over and picked some cherries from the cherry tree.

I got a cherry pie out of the deal.

A Deer

A couple pictures of a deer relaxing behind the Computer Mine.

“The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones.”

-William Shakespeare (Julius Caesar)

With all due respect to Shakespeare, this line from Julius Caesar has always bothered me. It has always bothered me because I don’t think that it is true. In fact, I believe the exact opposite is true.

What I am about to write isn’t meant to be deep or meaningful. There isn’t anything profound in this writing. In the end I will just be satisfied if it makes sense. It is just a reflection of something that I have been thinking about over the last couple of days and I just want to get it out there. Wherever “there” ends up being is irrelevant.

This past weekend I started the long awaited project of putting things on my walls. Part of this project has been setting up a corner of my basement as a “permanent” makeshift studio. In order to get the muslin put up in a relatively safe manner, I needed to borrow a drill from Jason.  While I was leaving the Stensland house my phone rang. It was Nader.

He called me to tell me that a guy we used to work with had died on the previous weekend.  He had blocked arteries and passed away while he was at work.

The name of the guy was a name I haven’t thought about forever. To be honest, I didn’t really like the guy all that much.  I didn’t dislike him, but he wasn’t my cup of tea.

Nader told me that the City of Ames had to make arrangements for the body because nobody claimed it. He didn’t know what had become of it.

I spent a decent portion of time on Monday searching the internet for an obituary or a news story on This Man, but in all my searchings I only found 1 thing. An online Guest Book for his funeral by the Memorial Chapel that apparently took care of his funeral arrangements. He passed away on June 13th. Nobody has signed his Guest Book.

Rather than his picture on the page, there is a default picture of flowers.

When I knew This Man I would not have described him as “popular”.  I struggle with the right word to end the previous sentence because I’m not sure the term popular is really a word that has any meaning once a person leaves high school. What I’m trying to say is that people didn’t flock to him. He didn’t have a large pool of friends. However, he wasn’t devoid of friends either.

I only have two real memories of This Man.

When I first transferred from the Evil Clown Outpost in Boone to the Evil Clown Outpost in Campustown I got stuck closing on a Saturday night.

I spent that night with This Man and his friends.  This group of friends always closed together on Saturday nights because they spent Friday nights together playing Dungeons and Dragons. I didn’t know this at the time.

Saturday nights were particularly slow at Campus. Therefore there was lots of downtime for small conversation. I was up front with the female representative of this group of friends.

We started talking about this girl that she really hated. Eventually I inquired about the reasons for her hatred of this girl.

“She slept with my fiance.”

I have to admit that in my smallmindedness, I was more shocked that this woman had a fiance than I was that he had slept with somebody else. Looks aren’t everything… but come on…

“What does she look like?”

“She is 7 foot tall.”

I had my doubts, but perhaps this was an exaggeration.

“She has blue skin.”

Probably not. Perhaps this was a dig at how pasty skinned this tramp was, but nobody in this group of friends had any reason to be mocking anybody for being pasty. By looking at them, the sun was probably little more than a rumor to them.

“She is an elf.”

It was at this exact moment and not a moment before, that I realized that for the last 45 minutes we had been discussing her Dungeons and Dragons character and not her real life.

This Man was the Dungeon Master. I learned this fairly soon after my interaction with the female because the rest of the night was spent dissecting the previous night’s role playing “adventure”.

The rest of the group ganged up on This Man because they wanted him to draw a map of the land where they were adventuring. He refused. He flat out refused.

His reason was that he had a map in his head and the map on paper would never match the map in his head. It would never be good enough.

The other memory I have of This Man is from 9/11. He had spent a good portion of our time spent together telling me how much this country sucked. He hated it and how he wanted to move to Australia.

I’m not saying that 9/11 could not have fertilized a long dormant seed of patriotism, but I have my doubts that my experience with him on that day was the rebirth of a patriot.

As soon as we realized that what was happening in New York City was a terrorist attack he started complaining that we should close the store.

I happened to agree with him, but it was not my decision. It is my belief that no businesses should have been open on that day. Everybody should have spent that day/night with their families.

It wasn’t my decision. It was the decision of the Senile Old Man that employed me. He wanted to keep his stores open.

After incessant complaining, I sent him home.  I did so with some regret. I always felt that he was using this as an excuse to get out of work and not that he was having some profound emotional experience to the world changing forever.

This Man wasn’t employed by Campus when the Senile Old Man dropped the burnt pretzel axe on the store. I can’t remember if he quit. I can’t remember if he was fired. I can’t remember anything about his departure from my life. Only that I haven’t seen him since he did depart my life and I haven’t thought about him until I heard about his departing this world.

any death is a tragedy, but I am saddened by this for another reason than it is just sad when anybody dies. I am sad that when This Man did pass on, the only mention of it I can find anywhere is an unsigned Guest Book on a funeral home’s website.

This seems like such an incredible waste to me.

On Saturday of this weekend I experienced the exact opposite. I did not know the people that owned my house before I bought it. However, since I have lived there I have met some of their family and some of their friends.

On Friday I got a phone call from a member of my church and a fellow Methodist Man. He told me that he had just learned what house I had bought. He told me that he was friends with the previous occupant. He and his wife always came over to pick cherries and he wondered if they could come pick cherries this year.

I told him that I had plenty of cherries and that they could come pick some.

Saturday morning my doorbell rang. I got up and it was my fellow Methodist Man. He had come to check on the status of the cherries. After I had taken him to the backyard and we had looked at the cherries he told me the story of how he met my house’s previous occupant. As he finished telling the story his eyes began to well up.

He said a quick goodbye and left.

The previous occupant didn’t just leave behind a beautiful (if not excessively cute) backyard. He left behind some great memories and friends.

I guess it is my sincerest hope that the Man that I knew only briefly left behind some of those as well.

This past Sunday was Hedgegeddon (pronounced Yardegeddon in the Jansonian dialect) and it was a complete and utter disaster. It rained all weekend (or so it seemed) and the rain didn’t stop for Hedgegeddon.

In the end Hedgegeddon Round 1 – You Win this Time Mother Nature! was a complete failure. There were 2 No-Call-No-Shows. 1 person backed out at the last minute. The ground was one cohesive piece of mud and wouldn’t give anything up. The chains and straps became wet and mud covered and slipped off the hedges regardless of technique. In the end, the ultimate battle between Man and Nature wasn’t even close.

The crew of Jason, Scottie D., Derrick and I were completely and utterly demolished. Even though Nature laughingly ran up the score on us at the end (like Tom Osborne teams of the past) by having my spade break in half in Derrick’s hands, our spirits are not crushed.

There is a reason that the most common signature at the bottom of my emails reads:

Man can be destroyed, but not defeated.

Hedgegeddon 2 – Suck It Mother Nature! (that is a working title) has already been scheduled. Barring rain, this time Mother Nature will feel the bitter taste of defeat. After all, the words before “A man can be destroyed…” are “But man is not made for defeat.”

Despite the Georgia Tech vs. Cumberland U. size of this last setback, the day was not without some small modicum of success:

There was actually a good thing that came out of Hedgegeddon. I stopped mowing certain sections of my yard in preparation for this unblessed event. When I stopped mowing a certain patch of the yard I found out that I have hollyhocks. Sweet!

I’m particularly proud of these hollyhocks because apparently these are a difficult flower to grow in this part of the Cyclone State. However, I can grow them without even trying. I truly am becoming a master gardener!

Here are a few other flower pictures from the Bennett Flower Gardens:

I’m hoping that there will be some moonflower and lily action in my backyard in the next couple of weeks. It also seems like the cherries will be ready for picking in the next couple of weeks as well!

I had a pretty awesome Memorial Day Weekend and saw all of the right people. Plus, my grill got quite the workout.

The weekend started with FNSC at my humble abode. The group core was there, plus Jesse and Dawn. Jesse, Willy and I hung by the fire pit until about 2 in the morning.

On Saturday morning I got up early to go to the bank with Mom and Teresa to sign some legal documents involving a safety deposit box.

After that exercise I hit up Salon 908 where I put up a new 20×30 picture in the salon to replace the one that had been sold. While you are waiting for a haircut at Salon 908 now you can stare admiringly at this picture:

I also got a sheering. Now I look borderline presentable. Even though I declined the eyebrow waxing that was offered.

I went home to clean up the kitchen best that I could. I had a Chef coming over to use it that afternoon and while I know that he looks down on my pathetic assortment of kitchen utensils, I wanted the area to be clean while he made magic.

After the kitchen cleaning, I went to Reiman’s Music to take pictures of a white piano for that week’s RWPE.

Next was a trip down to Beaverdale to pick up Sara. Although the Sara pickup also involved taking out her old air conditioner and putting a new air conditioner in her house. This ended up being a more painful process than I wanted it to be, but despite having to remove a nest from her window sill, the air condition finally found its home in her window.

Then was Todd and Peggy’s wedding. They got married on a golf course in Pleasant Hill. It was an impressive affair that included a free round of miniature golf, a photo booth and fireworks.

After the wedding Sara and I went to a bridge overlooking 235 so that I could work on a Personal Photo Project that will be published on July 9. It was from this experience I learned that another criteria that I should look for in photo assistants is the ability to turn a blind eye if I want to do something that is slightly illegal or dangerous. Sara doesn’t like it when she perceives me to be in “danger”. Of course, I already knew this from Personal Photo Project No. 16.

After dropping Sara back off in Beaverdale and doing some final tweaks on her air conditioner installation I voyaged back to Boone. A trip that takes quite a bit longer now that the Highway 17 bridge over the Des Moines River is closed until August.

I was hoping to make it back to Boone to hit the tail end of Nate’s birthday bash at The South Side, marking my triumphant return to the Boone Bar scene for the first time since 2008. However, I pulled back into Boone at roughly 1:40 and decided that it wasn’t worth it to go for 5 minutes. So instead I returned home to the Clockwork Couch and watched the tele.

Shortly after I got home Nate and Bethany returned home. They were both staying with me for the weekend and we talked briefly before they both crashed.

I got up early on Sunday morning and went to church. After church I grilled out with Nate after he returned from a poor round of golf with his friend Ryan. Earlier in the morning I had inadvertently interrupted Ryan’s vomiting efforts. It must have been quite the party that I missed.

Tim had bought a Nate a birthday cake with Nate’s 3rd or 4th grade picture on it. Most of Nate’s picture remained, except Nate’s face. Apparently Ryan had eaten Nate’s face the night before. After we were done grilling, I had some of Nate’s cake.

Later Nate proclaimed that the chicken wings he had made in my kitchen on the previous day were the best that he had ever made. This was a bold proclamation. Just ask Corey Faust if you doubt the veracity of that statement. Nate is going to make these legendary wings next time I go to Minnesota. Looks like I might have to cash in on that when I go see The Swell Season at the end of July!!

After resting from the grill, Jill came over and picked me up. We hit Jen and Derrick’s for a barbecue. Derrick grilled up bratwurst with pineapple in them. It was decided that these brats tasted slightly breakfasty. Even though Webster doesn’t consider breakfasty to be a word. They were still tasty. Plus any chance to eat burgers made with Derrick’s super secret burger recipe is always a great time.

I got to watch the Gorshe Baby Ultrasound for the third time. I still have no clue about the sex of Baby Gorshe, but I enjoy watching the video nonetheless.

After a lengthy discussion about the greatness of Daniel Tosh, we left while Derrick napped on the loveseat.

The next morning I slept in until 9:30. That is a late morning for me, except on the occasional work day. Nate, Bethany and I grilled out for lunch. By this time, my grill was definitely entering the danger area that cause the fire during the 2009 Road Trip Planning Barbecue, but it made it through another meal without incident.

After the meal Nate and Bethany packed up and I burned Bethany a copy of Strict Joy for their car trip home.

I then grabbed my camera and took a few pictures.

After taking pictures I went to the cemetery. At the cemetery I ran into Carla. We walked around the cemetery for about an hour. Then I went home and prepared the house for an impromptu family barbecue.

I didn’t clean the grill, but it did manage to make it through yet one more meal without erupting into flames. I should clean that at some point.

After the family went home I rested on the Clockwork Couch and watched Wooden Shoes. A movie made my a fellow computer miner by the name of Scotland Thompson. If you want a review of the movie, too bad, but I will loan my copy out.

I would like to report to interested parties that do not know yet…

Willy did finish his 100 Mile Race this past weekend.

Willy knocked out 100 miles in La Grange, Wisconsin as part of the weekend of Kettle 100 Endurance Runs.

He ran 100 miles in an official time of 28 hours 24 minutes 29 seconds.

I know, pretty insane!

I have planted lots of flowers this year. Nothing has officially died yet. Where I come from, that is considered an accomplishment.

This isn’t really a flower, but rotting rhubarb is kind of colorful.

Another hopeful development is that my moonflower has started to ascend from the soil. On the downside, I thought for sure there would be more than one moonflower by now.

In the last couple of weeks I have been making huge organizational changes to my basement. However, other parts of the house have also seen wholesale changes. I recently changed out the white table my Aunt Linda gave me for a 10 foot long workbench to act as the entertainment center in my living room. I also purchased a new couch and loveseat. To further augment my living room experience, I have made my rear speakers wireless and now I no longer have to worry about hiding the wiring for the rear speakers under the rug.

Have a look:

Living Room Changes

As you can see from this picture, these new changes to the living room make my weekly ritualistic viewing of A Clockwork Orange much more enjoyable.

The new couch and loveseat are undeniably real horrorshow. I think that they will increase the comfort of my droogs when they come over to see how the colors of the real world only seem real when they viddy them on a screen. The couch is comfortable for sleeping, so I can take a nap when I have something of a pain in the gulliver. Comfortable enough that I might not awaken when I give orders for awakening. I shouldn’t think on that much though.  Thinking is for the gloopy ones and the oomny ones use like, inspiration and what Bog sends.

Now that the speakers are in the proper place, the surround sound sounds a million times better. I don’t have any problem approaching anybody and asking: “What you got back home, little sister, to play your fuzzy warbles on? I bet you got little save pitiful portable picnic players. Come with uncle and hear all proper! Hear angel trumpets and devil trombones. You are invited.” When I have a wonderful evening and I need to give it a perfect ending with a little Ludwig Van it will be bliss! Bliss and heaven! Gorgeousness and gorgeousity made flesh. A bird of rarest-spun metal or like silver wine flowing in a spaceship, gravity all nonsense. As I slooshie, I will know such lovely pictures!

If my droogs Jay and Jesse try to wrestle on the new furniture while waiting for me to get ready to hit the Korova milkbar and a night of the ultra-violence, I will have no problem smacking them with my cane. If they ask why I did that, I will tell them calmly “For being a bastard with no manners, and not a dook of an idea how to comport yourself public-wise, O my brother.”

If they tell me: “Yarbles! Great bolshy yarblockos to you. I’ll meet you with chain or nozh or britva anytime, not having you aim tolchocks at me reasonless. Well it stand to reason I won’t have it.”

I will tell them, “A nozh scrap any time you say. But not near my new couch and loveseat. They are real horrorshow.”

Of course they will back down and say they need to go home and get a bit of spatchka.

After all, I have to protect my new couch and loveseat. To not do so, I would suffer the tortures of the damned, sir – tortures of the damned.

Goodness is something to be chosen. When a man cannot choose he ceases to be a man.

Final NCAA Bracket Chance

Today is your final chance to sign up to be embarrassed by me and my extensive college basketball knowledge in The Roundball Oracles NCAA Tournament Pool. So far 14 people have signed up for the free lesson in humility. 2 of them women! This isn’t a “boys club”. If you have an interest in participating, email me at: bennett@photography139.com and I will see that you get all the necessary information.