For you Baseball Fans...

I have some fond memories of baseball.  I'm not much of a sportster myself, but what good, red-blooded American doesn't look kindly on the sport?  In fact, my first daughter was born during the world series of 2005...that accounts for my OB being MIA for a large portion of the labor!

So anyway...my hubby recently purchased something interesting for us.  It's the Ken Burns documentary on the history of baseball.  It's called...you guessed it...Baseball.  Now, I know that not many people my age are into documentaries, but when you're married to someone with a History Education degree, you learn to embrace things like that.  The truth is, it is mighty interesting.  So, although we are only a scant four hours into the twenty-two, I already have some interesting facts to report.

Did you know that the famous Dodgers were originally from Brooklyn?  They were originally called the 'Trolley Dodgers' because of the intricate maze of trolleys their fans had to navigate to get to the games.  Apparently in those days, the trolleys meandered down the streets in all sorts of directions...they showed footage.  It would scare me!  Brave fans!  How their hearts must have sank when their team was sold to another city.

Here's an interesting character we've learned about so far.  His name was Rube Waddell.



photo courtesy of Wikipedia

This guy was an interesting player!  He wasn't mean like Detroit's famous Ty Cob (I'll cover him later...or maybe I'll have my hubby do it for me!), he was just a complete nut case!

He was a great pitcher, but he had problems concentrating.  Fans of the opposing team would hold up puppies or shiny objects to distract him, and it worked great!  Imagine a pitcher these days doing his wind-up and just before the release stopping because he was distracted at the sight of a puppy in the stands.  Nice!

Sometimes, he'd run out of the dugout mid-game to chase fire trucks for who knows how long.  He'd enter the field via the stands, then stand there and partially strip before running to the dugout to dress for the game.  Yikes!  The documentary said he couldn't remember how many wives he had...I'm not sure if that was for real or if it was a sports writer quote of sarcasm.  He was however, great at striking out batters with his fast ball.  Apparently his arm was quicker than his brain.

They say truth is stranger than fiction!  Next installment...Ty Cobb.

Ellen Bartelle, Woman of Mystery, Part 6

Ellen gulped loudly.  Here he was, intimidatingly handsome and foiling her best laid plan.  She shifted her weight and put her arm up nonchalantly against the brick wall.

"Why, Jonathan Miller," another gulp, "How in the world are you?"

He looked at her silently for a moment with his arms crossed.  "I've been doing all right.  How about you, Ellen?  Here to see your brother?" he asked.

She nodded a weak affirmation.

"Let's talk in my office, Ellen, I've got something to discuss with you," he said suddenly, steering her through the traffic of the junior high boys.  The sweaty scent of adolescence pervaded the air of the hallway.  He breezed past the secretary without hesitation, closing the office door with a quiet click.

"Have a seat" he invited.  She obeyed, shifting her fanny pack slightly to the front.  He sat up straight  behind his large, stark desk, then began again.  "I've heard that you're working for Fit for Life these days.  Do you think you can help me with a problem?"

She leaned forward in interest, embarrasment suddenly gone.  He continued, " We've been having some discrepencies in our paperwork.  As you probably know, the school has purchased some materials for our health classes, paid for by the state.  I personally never see the money, but I do like to look over the expenditures and make sure that things are right.  It seems that Fit for Life has been routinely getting more from the state than they should, yet our shipments of materials are still exactly what is ordered."  He paused, noticing the sparkle of excitement in her eyes.  Here was a clue she hadn't banked on!  "I'd sure appreciate any help you could give in directing me to the right person or department.  I want to get this figured out before we place our next order, if possible."

Ellen stood, "Absolutely.  If you could just send any documentation to my email, it'd be a big help in tracking down the problem. I'd be happy to take care of it for you".  She handed him a business card.  It was deceptively plain...containing only her name and email, next to a small logo of binoculars.  He glanced down at the card he now held in his hand.  "Ellen Muriel Bartelle; e-mail: iheartgodiva@gmail.com", it read.

A quizzical look came over his face.  "Is this your work email address?"

The question didn't intimidate her, for awkward as she could be, she really knew how to make an exit.  She slipped on a pair of knock-off black rhinestone sunglasses, then said to him, "It's the address I use for my work, yes," she evaded. "Thank you, Jonathan, you've been helpful...very helpful.  I'll get back to you as soon as I find something out for us...for you". 

He mutely handed her the packet she had forgotten to request, looking keenly into her chocolate-brown eyes.  She turned and slowly maneuvered out the office door, once again ignoring the secretary, shoes squeaking magnificently with every green-tiled stride.

Word of the Week

Want to know a word to make me chuckle?  It's the silly little word...

truckle: verb;to submit or yield obsequiously or tamely (usually followed by to )

I have many things I regularly truckle to, mostly chocolate related.  However, I prefer to dash into the world of make-believe for my vocabulary sentences...makes them a little more exciting.

The conceited Arnold was certain that his bronzed biceps would cause any woman to truckle to his every whim.

The old lady stood there stiffly, clutching her purse while telling herself not to truckle to her urge for vengeance.  Unable to squelch her emotions, Helga burst through the door, pulled out the pistol and burgled every burger from her enemy's meat case.

Hmmm...that sounds like an exciting story.  I'll have to think up some more installments for that one...couldn't even keep it to one sentence.

A Personal Health Reminder...

If I keep eating too much of this...

I will soon look like this...

Sigh...sometimes life really isn't fair.

A try at limericks...

Have you ever tried writing limericks?  I mean, since you left junior high?  It's easy and fun...try some about your own family!  Here are three...one for each of my kids. 

We named our first baby girl Cara.
She loves to decorate her haira
With ribbons and clips,
then gloss on her lips.
Of primping she'll never despaira.

My little old man's name is Scott.
Girlie he really is not.
He plays cars and baseball
In all rooms and the hall,
And eats ten times more than a lot.

The sweet little one goes by Allie.
She think everyone is her pallie.
She giggles and sighs,
Has two massive thighs,
What a cheerful, chubby little gallie.

Who'd have thought he'd be so cynical?

I just can't help myself.  I am trying not to be skeptical of government and overload my readers with sarcastic remarks, but every time I resolve again, I run across a quote like this... 

 

''In my many years I have come to a conclusion that one useless man is a shame, two is a law firm, and three or more is a congress.''

—President John Adams

I guess cynicism about government never goes out of style! 

For the Society Column...

Did you know that Cinderella and Spiderman are now married?  It's true...it happened right here in my living room last night.  She wore a white princess dress and veil and he wore...his spidey outfit, of course.  My daughter was the flower girl, and the happy couple went to talk to my husband after the ceremony...I guess he was the receiving line or something.  My son's cars were in attendance.

The real question is what to get them for the wedding.  Talk about a couple who already has everything!  Unlimited wealth from her previous marriage and intrigue and super powers on his side.  Hmmm...maybe they need a toaster.

image via Wikipedia