Golfin'

The last time I went golfing.  Ghana, ca. 2004.

What's up, folks.

For years, the dads in our friend group have pestered me about playing golf with them.  They go every week to various courses throughout the mid-Michigan area, and whenever it comes up I politely decline.  Golf is not my thing, I think the entire sport and the culture surrounding it is lame - from dudes tucking in polo shirts into their shorts to the jargon players use, I think it's pretentious and stupid.

Anyway.

This week I finally caved, I went golfing.  As could be expected, I didn't enjoy it all, but had some fun riding around in golf karts and drinking beer, that's always a good time.  I don't think the guys will ever stop asking me about joining them, but maybe this was enough to keep them placated for the time being.

Enjoy. . .

We hit up some place that they frequent in Freeland.  I didn't feel like Google searching the name for you, but you could probably find it.

Setting up for the first hole (or whatever you call it.)

Ryan tees off. . .

Golf karts are so much fun.  All I want out of life is to end up in one of those retirement communities where I get to drive around in one all day long.  I guess if that doesn't pan out I can just retire up at the family lakehouse on Eight Point - we have one up there now.

Coach Big Balls takes a whack at it. . .

Putting is about the only part of this game I like.  Aside from riding around in a golf kart and drinking beer, obviously.

Lonnie, cleaning his Big Balls.

Kinda threading the needle a bit with these narrow bridges here. 

Omkar attempting to drive

Getting closer to sunset.  The guys usually only play nine holes on a weeknight, I guess.

Erik puts and misses.

Wrapping up.

At the end of the night, the guys all grabbed food back at the 'clubhouse' (or whatever you call it.)  We stayed for a few beers and then called it a night.  Honestly, this was the best part of the entire night, as much fun as golf karts are.

- Brian

Abigail at the Petting Zoo

Man, if it's one thing that will try a man's soul, it's an elementary school field trip.

I rarely jump for joy when I get 'volunteered' for one of these, but, being a parent and everything I'm sort of obligated to follow through.  Part of the whole 'Dad' thing, I guess.  Kris gets way more into than I ever do, but she's a mom, so maybe that's not all that hard to believe.  They're wired all screwy.

I've chaperoned a few of Alayna's school trips in the past (one most recently in April, if you'll recall), but this time around I'd be helping out Abby's kindergarten class on a half-day outing to a local petting zoo farm in Freeland.  I took the day off for this fiasco, which, all in all, wasn't too horrifying, but did - without a doubt - reinforce my previous belief that I had made the absolute right choice pursuing a career in middle school education instead of elementary education.

Those teachers have their hands full.

Check it out. . .

The class boards the field trip bus.  I didn't realize it, but Abby would later tell me that this would be her very first ride on a school bus, which I didn't get to experience first hand because the school had the adult chaperones drive separately to the petting zoo farm.  Why?  Who knows.

This was a PM field trip, so upon arrival the first thing the teachers did was feed the kids lunch. Abby's a big fan of lunch.

I was a little too slow to pull out my phone for this pic.  There were a few other kids with their heads in there prior to me finally taking a picture, but, by then, well. . . .

I don't care if this is where milk comes from, this is just gross.

(In case you were curious as to what the inside of a cow looks like, here you go.)

Mrs. Vandenboom's kindergarten class.

I'm assuming they usually look more like this.

On the farm, getting ready for the big tour. . .

Mustering of troops

The first stop on the tour was a barn where they had a bunch of unwilling animals standing around, waiting to be man-handled (child-handled?) by a bunch of five- and six-year-olds.

Time for a lecture on animal care and whatever else.

Abby's friend/beau, Jackson, was one of two students out of the entire kindergarten to get to feed a baby cow from some plastic bottle.

(Clearly, Abby was excited about this.)

After the feeding, they split the kindergarten in two, with half of the kids staying behind in the barn to take turns holding various barnyard animals while the other - us, as it were - got to board a giant trailer for a 'hayride.'

This kind of thing is always funny.  Whether you're five or thirty-five.

After our lackluster hay ride, we returned to the barn and the two kindergarten groups switched places, with our regiment of midgets now getting to grope and feel an assortment of unwilling barn animals.. .

Sweet Christ, I hate goats.

The only animal I hate more than goats is cats.  Also known as God's mistake.

(It's a baby bird.  I couldn't tell you what kind.)

That sheep looks pissed.

After some heavy petting, the kids were instructed to line up on the far side of large field, and were each given cups of animal feed (you know, the crap that looks like dog food but smells much, much worse.)  Across the way, behind a fence and locked gates, were several paddocks full of sheep and goats.  Across the empty field, the livestock and children stared at each other.  In my life I have never experienced such tension.

Chaos.

After awhile, Abby ran out of animal feed, so she decided to start feeding the animals grass instead.  I would have made fun of her for this, but, believe it or not, the animals kept eating it.  Whatever.

Some more involuntary petting.

Why was this here?  These are the questions I don't ask at petting zoos farms.

BFFs.  Or at least until she forgot all about it.

Get on da bus!

- Brian