What Does It Mean, Man??
If there is one constant in the world of Turfheads, in some way, somehow, summer brings some kind of challenge. Like stuffing in the Thanksgiving Turkey here we Turfheads are, right in the middle of it. And there isn’t a soul on the big blue marble that can tell us that it is easy. It’s not and my hat goes off to each and every person in our crazy business that endures. We all deal with it in different way. Complain, ignore, panic, brash confidence, total paranoia
Now look…..some people freak over Football or World Cup or F1 or Dancing With The Stars. That’s fine. Not me. This is the story of a man who embraces his addiction like the trained monkey he is.
I happen to have an inner geek that makes me read tech blogs and get all nuts about geekery. Top of my geek habit leader board for some time has been Apple and the iPhone. I’ve drunk the Kool-Aid since waiting in line all day for the first version.
Today, I was up at the usual early, not to geek on gra
Prologue
This next series of Turfgrass Zealot posts is going to be a challenge for me. As much as I really didn’t want to become a “blogger” in the first place, I REALLY don’t want to tackle a series. Especially this series. But I polled some people who I call friends and they put me up to saying I would do this. Of course, they are probably the same “friends” who would let me drink SeviMol, just to see me do “The Worm”. Yet, though, I still listen.
Turfheads are a magical breed. They don’t
Prologue
This next series of Turfgrass Zealot posts is going to be a challenge for me. As much as I really didn't want to become a "blogger in the first place, I REALLY don't want to tackle a series. Especially this series. But I polled some people who I call friends and they put me up to saying I would do this. Of course, they are probably the same "friends who would let me drink SeviMol, just to see me do "The Worm. Yet, though, I still listen.
Turfheads are a magical breed. They don't
It’s time for you to share your mid-day eating habits. In some form or another, every turfhead has a method for feeding itself.
And of course Stories of Your Habits in the comment section are warmly welcomed. Because after all, this is one of those important topics that only True Turfheads would really understand.
Note: There is a poll embedded within this post, please visit the site to participate in this post's poll.
Ok gang….it’s time to initiate the first in a series of Polls designed for two things.
One….show off the amazing technology that Peter gives me to use.
Two…test your mettle and see if indeed you are a True Turfhead.
Of course Turfheadedness is Open_Source, so it may be that via your answer trends can change.
It’s just like American Idol. Vote!
Note: There is a poll embedded within this post, please visit the site to participate in this post's poll.
Here is Spring and that means Summer has the throttle twisted in a pre-run burnout and is headed our way. Summer means all kinds of things to turfgrass managers. Long days, different grass types and their needs, kids out of school and their needs, long days, golfers, irrigation issues, long days and of course, long days. For almost all of us, it is make or break time.
Why am I talking about this now? I have seen clearly that successful summer survivors are always months ahead of the game as it
Here is Spring and that means Summer has the throttle twisted in a pre-run burnout and is headed our way. Summer means all kinds of things to turfgrass managers. Long days, different grass types and their needs, kids out of school and their needs, long days, golfers, irrigation issues, long days and of course, long days. For almost all of us, it is make or break time.
Why am I talking about this now? I have seen clearly that successful summer survivors are always months ahead of the game as
(this was published in the Sierra Nevada GCSA Chapter Newsletter this February. In light of some of the current discussions on the TurfNET Forum, I thought it might be good to port over here. Many thanks to Jim Alwine, the Sierra Nevada’s superior newsletter editor for asking me to write something for the chapter—DW)
Go ahead. Wash up. Just make sure you use that 80 grit sandpaper to get all the dirt off. That’s how a lot of us feel, when we talk about finances as it comes to the business of gr
(this was published in the Sierra Nevada GCSA Chapter Newsletter this February. In light of some of the current discussions on the TurfNET Forum, I thought it might be good to port over here. Many thanks to Jim Alwine, the Sierra Nevadas superior newsletter editor for asking me to write something for the chapterDW)
Go ahead. Wash up. Just make sure you use that 80 grit sandpaper to get all the dirt off. That's how a lot of us feel, when we talk about finances as it comes to the business of g
I’m gonna keep this short. Don’t. That’s right. Don’t. Keep this word and all of its negative connotations in your head. When you are all excited, sitting at the central controller, ready to hit whatever form of on switch you have, remember my word—Don’t.
One of the biggest mistakes I see springtime turfgrass managers make is watering too much, too early. Here we are, spring springing all around us and it just seems like the thing to do, water a little bit. Just a little because it just feels b
I'm gonna keep this short. Don't. That's right. Don't. Keep this word and all of its negative connotations in your head. When you are all excited, sitting at the central controller, ready to hit whatever form of on switch you have, remember my wordDon't.
One of the biggest mistakes I see springtime turfgrass managers make is watering too much, too early. Here we are, spring springing all around us and it just seems like the thing to do, water a little bit. Just a little because it just feels
One hit on the inhaler. Nothing. Second hit. Nothing. I can’t catch my breath, can’t stop coughing. I feel my knees getting weak. Mouth open. Hit number three. Nothing. This is it. I’m gonna freaking be the only human monkey capable of being stupid enough to die at the medical clinic. Thinking. I really don’t want to do this in public.
I duck into the mens restroom. Stall is open. Grab a big hunk of wall. Hit number four on the Albuterol. And I finally sort of get a breath. One more. Then anoth
One hit on the inhaler. Nothing. Second hit. Nothing. I can't catch my breath, can't stop coughing. I feel my knees getting weak. Mouth open. Hit number three. Nothing. This is it. I'm gonna freaking be the only human monkey capable of being stupid enough to die at the medical clinic. Thinking. I really don't want to do this in public.
I duck into the mens restroom. Stall is open. Grab a big hunk of wall. Hit number four on the Albuterol. And I finally sort of get a breath. One more. Then an
Last week, Sierra Pacific had our Spring Symposium. Just over 100 people showed up for a couple days of education and perhaps a little golf. The weather controlled the golf down to about 4-5 holes. The education was the real show.
In planning this event, my friend, colleague, mentor and crime partner Dean Kinney and I made sure that we didn’t fill the schedule with so much that it would be too much. Why? Simple. Love. That’s right, Love. I can hear it now, the collective mass groan of the Turf
Last week, Sierra Pacific had our Spring Symposium. Just over 100 people showed up for a couple days of education and perhaps a little golf. The weather controlled the golf down to about 4-5 holes. The education was the real show.
I can hear it now, the collective mass groan of the TurfHeads as they brace themselves for more of my Californiacated Spench of Touch and Feel.
In planning this event, my friend, colleague, mentor and crime partner Dean Kinney and I made sure that we didn't fill t
Back in October, I was having a bit of a life crisis. No…Not a bit of one…A huge one. And Thomas Bastis was there for me. So, I wrote this post in a place where I was working out some angst. I think it should be shared.
_____________
You Should Have One Just Like Him (October 5, 2009)
by Dave Wilber
This is Thomas. Not Tom. Not Tommy…although I call him that because it’s like some kind of wannabe mobster thing, you know..Hey, Tommy! But as always, I digress.
I ported one of my deep perso
Back in October, I was having a bit of a life crisis. NoNot a bit of oneA huge one. And Thomas Bastis was there for me. So, I wrote this post in a place where I was working out some angst. I think it should be shared.
_____________
You Should Have One Just Like Him (October 5, 2009)
by Dave Wilber
This is Thomas. Not Tom. Not Tommyalthough I call him that because it's like some kind of wannabe mobster thing, you know..Hey, Tommy! But as always, I digress.
I ported one of my deep
I love communication. Love it. I love to talk. I love to write. I love to yell. I love to blather endlessly about not much of anything. I love communication. To me, there’s nothing not to love about being a good communicator. And even less to be upset about being a bad communicator and still trying. And I love failed efforts to communicate. Love them long time!
What?
That’s right. This is directed right at all of you who have tried and failed to get your point across. But in the trying is lear
I love communication. Love it. I love to talk. I love to write. I love to yell. I love to blather endlessly about not much of anything. I love communication. To me, theres nothing not to love about being a good communicator. And even less to be upset about being a bad communicator and still trying. And I love failed efforts to communicate. Love them long time!
What?
Thats right. This is directed right at all of you who have tried and failed to get your point across. But in the trying is lea
I hate blogging. And I don’t want to blog.
No… I want to blog and blogs are really hip and cool and so I want to be a hip and cool blogger.
No… I hate blogs and I hate bloggers even more.
Wait… I don’t hate them. I just hate it when people blog about what they had for lunch and all the other inane crap that they go through each day. Seriously? The internet for what you had for lunch or who you met at the dog park? I don’t think so. An entire culture of SAR (self-adsorbed-rubbish).
So when th
I hate blogging. And I dont want to blog.
No I want to blog and blogs are really hip and cool and so I want to be a hip and cool blogger.
No I hate blogs and I hate bloggers even more.
Wait I dont hate them. I just hate it when people blog about what they had for lunch and all the other inane crap that they go through each day. Seriously? The internet for what you had for lunch or who you met at the dog park? I dont think so. An entire culture of SAR (self-adsorbed-rubbish).
So when th
