An Ogden Nash Baseball Limerick! Talk about bringing a bunch of writing themes together for one post! This will be great review...

Letter	Player	Verse
A	Grover Cleveland Alexander	A is for Alex The great Alexander; More Goose eggs he pitched Than a popular gander.
B	Roger Bresnahan	B is for Bresnahan Back of the plate; The Cubs were his love, and McGraw his hate.
C	Ty Cobb	C is for Cobb Who grew spikes and not corn, And made all the basemen Wish they weren't born.
D	Jerome "Dizzy" Dean	D is for Dean, The grammatical Diz, When they asked, Who's the tops? Said correctly, I is.
E	Johnny Evers	E is for Evers, His jaw in advance; Never afraid To Tinker with Chance.
F	Frankie "Fordham" Frisch	F is for Fordham And Frankie and Frisch; I wish he were back With the Giants, I wish.
G	Lou Gehrig	G is for Gehrig, The Pride of the Stadium; His record pure gold, His courage, pure radium.
H	Rogers Hornsby	H is for Hornsby; When pitching to Rog, The pitcher would pitch, Then the pitcher would dodge.
I	Nash, the author	I is for Me, Not a hard-hitting man, But an outstanding all-time Incurable fan.
J	Walter Johnson	J is for Johnson The Big Train in his prime Was so fast he could throw Three strikes at a time.
K	Willie Keeler	K is for Keeler, As fresh as green paint, The fastest and mostest To hit where they ain't.
L	Nap Lajoie	L is for Lajoie Whom Clevelanders love, Napoleon himself, With glue in his glove.
M	Christy Mathewson	M is for Matty, Who carried a charm In the form of an extra brain in his arm.
N	Louis "Bobo" Newsom	N is for Newsom, Bobo's favorite kin. You ask how he's here, He talked himself in.
O	Mel Ott	O is for Ott Of the restless right foot. When he leaned on the pellet, The pellet stayed put.
P	Eddie Plank	P is for Plank, The arm of the A's; When he tangled with Matty Games lasted for days.
Q	Connie Mack	Q is for Don Quixote Cornelius Mack; Neither Yankees nor years Can halt his attack.
R	Babe Ruth	R is for Ruth. To tell you the truth, There's just no more to be said, Just R is for Ruth.
S	Tris Speaker	S is for Speaker, Swift center-field tender, When the ball saw him coming, It yelled, "I surrender."
T	Bill Terry	T is for Terry The Giant from Memphis Whose .400 average You can't overemphis.
U	Carl Hubbell	U would be 'Ubell if Carl were a cockney; We say Hubbell and Baseball Like Football and Rockne.
V	Charles "Dazzy" Vance	V is for Vance The Dodger's very own Dazzy; None of his rivals Could throw as fast as he.
W	Honus Wagner	W is for Wagner, The bowlegged beauty; Short was closed to all traffic With Honus on duty.
X	Jimmie Foxx	X is the first of two x's in Foxx Who was right behind Ruth with his powerful soxx.
Y	Cy Young	Y is for Young The magnificent Cy; People battled against him, But I never knew why.
Z	Zenith	Z is for Zenith The summit of fame. These men are up there. These men are the game.

THE Blackberry Syrup

Have I ever told you of my days as an amateur wine maker?  Yeah, well, it was just one of those things that have gone down in our family's Polack book of legendary bloopers.  Here's what happened...

When I was a teenager in high school, every July/August was the time I would wander around outside picking wild blackberries on our farm.  Some years, I got quite a bit of plunder and would look for creative ways to make use of them.  My Polish Grandma told me a story of what they would do in the old country.  Just make blackberry syrup!  I thought it was a great idea.  I got a large Mason jar and layered berries and sugar just the way Grandma instructed me.  She had told me to put a cheesecloth on top, but when my Dad saw me doing that, he said, "Awww...they only did that because they were too poor for a lid.  Just use a regular lid, it'll work just the same."

Hmmm...well, it sounded like a plausible reason, so I did what my Dad suggested and used a canning lid instead of the cloth.  Grandma said to put it in the window sill for two or three days.  The days got away from me...I left it for nearly two weeks.  The fateful day arrived when I opened the jar and loaded our vanilla ice cream with the 'syrup'.

Syrup it was not...wine it was.  My Dad manfully downed part of the ice cream, declaring it to be pretty good, but I noticed that he didn't go for the rest of the jar.  We kids were forbidden...we weren't of age to try the syrup!

Attention Pianists!

Okay, here's one for the piano player in me...actually it could be for any musician who knows what they're doing.  Do you ever get amazed when you read the things people write in their arrangements?  So many of them are completely useless, repetitive, or are just a given.  Here are a few examples of notes I've seen in actual published music (I have to say, sacred piano arrangements are the biggest offender, with SATB sacred choral arrangements as a close second.) 

****Editor's Note...please forgive my sarcasm, I'm a music teacher and some times you just have to let it boil over when the students aren't looking!

"big and sweeping"...Okay...how do you sing a song 'sweeping'?  I mean, other than Cinderella...

"moving forward"...as if you'd suddenly stop playing and start playing in reverse

"with determination"..."I will play this song!  I will play this song!  I WILL!!!"

"with emotion"...as opposed to regular songs which are to be sung/played without emotion; or you could just cry as you play...

"with expression"...as opposed to regular songs which are to be sung/played as lifelessly as possible

"with enthusiasm"...as in not rolling your eyes the whole time

"with purpose"...stop thinking how pointless this all is

"bring out melody"...aren't you always supposed to bring out the melody?  Why add that in?

"with anticipation"...I would prefer 'without anticipation'...try not to anticipate the errors that are about to occur!

"with feeling"...also, aren't you always supposed to play with feeling? I've never seen 'with stark, robot-like motions' written into a piece

"thoughtfully"...Caution:  This song not intended for airheads!

"decrease tempo"...there is another term for this...it's called a ritardando...

"relaxed"...as opposed to playing tensed up, trying to provoke carpal tunnel

"with confidence"...just to remind you not to let your hands shake or let your eyes shift from side to side in embarrasment

"not pounding"...yes, this is really written in a piano book...I guess I can stop telling my kids not to pound on the piano...they'll write it in when they really mean it.

Phew!  And I thought I was overly wordy!  Whatever happened to teaching students to interpret the finer points of the composition?  Music teachers of the world, stand up and teach your students to actually look for and display the tone, theme, and drama of the music themselves, so we can eliminate this needless redundancy.  Redundancy we don't need...except, of course, my continual blog posts about chocolate.  That just goes without saying...

Phonetic Punctuation

This week's installment of Word of the Week is rather a focus on punctuation.  I challenge you to add this in to your day to day speech!  The kids will love it!

By the way, my hubby and I performed this Borge classic together in a singing group for our college before we were married. How sweet!  It was the first and only time he accidentally called me 'big guy'.

Summer, summer days

This is what I think of summer...
...drippy sweat
...bright window lights
...glistening morning grass
...dirt-smeared kids
...grass clippings
...flapping, scented laundry line
...plastic kiddie pools
...discovering each new vegetable in the garden
...my daughter smelling flowers
...freckles and suntans
...wildly blown hair
...fireworks

Lovely as it is, it's time for me to say good-bye to wonderful summer.  I like summer, but I LOVE the fall.

A Personal Limerick

There once was a mother of three,

Corny, she often could be,

Post-cleaning, she'd write,

Of chocolate all night,

and the antics of her family.

No that's not REALLY me, but I often sit alone all dressed up like this to read in my serene way.

Ellen Bartelle, Woman of Mystery, Part 9

It was a dark and stormy morning and the sprinkles were leaving a web of wetness in Herman's hair.  Ellen spotted him on the park bench and weaved her way through the smiling families to sit discreetly next to him.  She opened her Agatha Christie novel and appeared to begin a chapter while he looked over at her faintly.  She said nothing until the other pedestrians passed.

"Did you get what I need, Herman?"  She surmised that he had received her payment by the bloated look of his belly.

He weakly retrieved a folded sheet of paper and slipped it into her outstretched orange fingernails.  "Oh, man Ellen.  You wouldn't believe how sick I feel.  I had so many containers of nachos during the third quarter last night.  Then Margarita got mad because the Packers won and she left and I was alone there with the burritos and..."

Ellen cut him off, "Herman," she said, "did you dispose of the trash where I told you?  We can't have the evidence of all those snacks back in the dumpster the secretaries use...you could really get into trouble."

"Yes, yes," he said while rubbing his stomach, "I put them in Mr. Frank's office like you said.  I don't know why he can eat whatever he wants."

"I told you, Herman, he is a mastermind of planning...he's the reason Fit for Life is able to be so successful.  He can do whatever he wants.  Us on the other hand...anyone could do our jobs."  She paused, expecting a reply, but Herman only let out a small, deep belch, then moaned.

She unfolded the paper and perused its information with surprise.  The implied culprit was who she suspected, but she was stunned by the meticulous manner in which Herman of all people was able to record the data.  He had entered an entry time, exit time, and activity for every person who had come near Accounting the previous day.  He had made his entries in neat rows, placing asterisks next to the most suspicious of the names.  He had done a great job...she'd have to remember him if she ever needed some help in the future.

Herman declined her offer of a Snickers bar, which she had meant as an extra thank you, and left abruptly after their business was concluded.  Ellen smiled...she was in possession of all she needed to make her final show down.  Too bad she had one more day at work first.  She groaned at the thought of editing that dull article on artichokes.  "Only one more day," she thought as she began the trek toward her work building, "I just have to survive working there for one more day."

She entered the building, this time passing security without the stress of contraband.  She began walking up the stairwell and she didn't even get winded.  She took a seat at her desk and bent over to change out of her tennis shoes.  When she sat up again, she was startled by the disapproving presence of a perspiring Latina.

Ellen didn't even have a chance to say hello.

Margarita started in on her, "I don't like what you're doing, I don't like it at all.  I said to Herman that you were not good for him.  He didn't even ask me what I thought of you..."

Ellen was amused.  Surely Margarita didn't think she was interested in the lazy teen!  "Margarita, please...it's not what you think.  Herman and I have a business proposition and that's all..."

"I know what girls like you are like.  You give him food and you talk to him real quiet..." 

This time Ellen interrupted her with more purpose.  "Margarita.  Stop it right now!"  She had been attracting some unwanted attention.  She motioned for Margarita to follow her to the ladies room where she was able to calm her nerves with the vague promise of never talking to Herman again.  Then she threw the motherly bloodhound onto another scent.

"Really it's not me you should be worried about.  Have you seen the way that lady security guard looks at him when he comes in every afternoon?"  Ellen didn't mention that she was watching him because she'd busted him for chicken nuggets on more than one occasion.  Margarita got a new glint to her eyes, then thanked Ellen profusely before leaving to scout out the new threat.  Ellen breathed a sigh of relief.  That was a little too conspicuous for comfort.

She returned to her cubicle and read through several dull manuscripts before breaking for her unappetizing lunch of leek soup.  While she quietly slurped, she dreamed of the fattening burgers she would be free to have soon...so soon.  She was mid-daydream when Editor Wilhelm marched in to give his afternoon motivational speech.  Carla, his secretary always sat up a little straighter after he uttered, "Let's go, team!".

She hydrated, then plunged in again, working steadily through the afternoon until the happy moment of her release.  She skipped out the door, down the stairs, into the streets, then hopped onto the bus toward home.  The comforting smell of fried chicken greeted her as she came in the door.

Her Mom smiled at her.  "Hi."  She was a woman of few words.

Ellen smiled back and leaned over the deep fryer in delight.  It would be a great night.  After a hearty dinner, she'd go down to her room and send out the necessary emails for her meeting tomorrow night.  She'd thought and planned, and finally the time had come.  It was the beginning of the end for the case of Fit for Life.