Lesson 91: September Song

Eloise likes her music to match the season.  I'm a nerd that way--or maybe it's just the autism in me (I believe there is some in all of us).  Here is a good September song for you from one of my favorite short lived bands, Plain White T's.  They sing that song Delilah that topped the charts several years ago.  I haven't followed them closely much since, but relative Kayla P turned me on to this song.  Thanks for your timeliness, Kayla.  I was in the mood for a midweek blog post.

One year ago I learned how to post my first youtube video onto this blog.  It was an exciting day---oh the possibilities I was thinking of at that time!  Cool!  I can share my words AND music. How awesome!  If you want to look back through the archives, you'll find it--a September 14, 2010 post of Daughtry's song September.  I was writing about the nostalgia of my high school days.  The smell of grapes was in the air again, the marching band was practicing, and the same coaches were blowing their whistles on the football practice field as I left work today (happy coaches this year--my Huskies are 2-0!).  A year has gone by.  Some things have changed, yet others still stay the same.

Enjoy the September song.
Forever,
Eloise

Lesson 90: What We Learned

I'll keep it short today because it is a quiet day of remembrance here in the United States.  We all remember because we will never forget.  So today, when you reflect on September 11th, watch this video clip Pastor showed our church this morning.  The words in the black boxes are all meaningful, but it is the last three on the video that mean the most to me.  Watch for them.  When you ask me what I learned from the greatest tragedy of my lifetime, this is how I will respond:

• Faith is our refuge
• Hope sustains us
• Love endures all

Amen.

Eloise

Lesson 89: A Star is Born

Yesterday, which was Labor Day here in the US, is the unofficial end of summer. The real fall comes in on September 23rd this year.  Ellen is thrilled that she will be celebrating her birthday on the last day of summer this year.  I am working on a nice collection of my summer pictures from 2011 for you, coming on the next blog post, so stay tuned.

But alas, the end of summer as we know it is Labor Day.  Theme parks close down.  Kids head back to school.  There is a sadness for many when we say goodbye to summer, but for Eloise I am sad for but a minute because I always look forward to something else---my boys of fall---my football players.  And man, do I love them all!  From my NFL quarterbacks, the speedy college running backs, right down to the beefy lineman on the local high school football team.   Going to a football game and feeling that energy is about the only time I ever wish I had been a boy.

My true love is high school football and I've been a fan of my orange and black since my first game I attended in 1971 when I was six months old.  My hubby loves the Big Ten and looks like a smurf until December because all he wears is navy blue and white clothing.  My parents are life long Steelers fans, so I am kept up to date on the NFL as well.  Weekends are about game day soup and chili and hard rolls and beer.  It is a fun time of year and the perfect remedy to the Summers End Blues.

Eloise is a fan, and I never got my chance to play, but God did give me one thing---he gave me a son.  And it just so happens that I have a Little Gridders field in my backyard with a nice goal post I can see out of my kitchen window.  I like to take Sam down there and see if he can kick the ball through the uprights.  He's almost there.  He's a strong lefty and always wants to kick the ball with his bare foot.  I never told him to do that and I often think how bad that must hurt his little foot, but he never complains.

One of the last nice weekends of the summer a few weeks back, I took my family down to the high school stadium for a little exercise.  The girls were running the track and I hoofed it up and down the 677 steps of Paul J Weitz Stadium---twice!  I made Hubby bring a football and toss Sam some passes.  By luck we had the stadium completely to ourselves.  Shhhhh.  The girls think that I got it as a reward for an outstanding work record, since I work for the school district.  Children learn best from modeling, so what they don't know won't hurt them.

This is Sam out on the field.  I laugh at how tiny he looks out there.  The funny part is that Hubby would do that one-two-three-hike thing and want Sam to go out for a pass.  Every time my husband dropped back to throw a pass (he was once the Glory Boy for the neighboring Fighting Grape Pickers-----and yes, Slovenians, that is really their school mascot), instead of going deep into the end zone, Sam ran up and tackled my husband.  YES!!  I got me a workhorse Lineman!  A nice feisty one who likes to hit just for the fun of it.  The gritty ones are always my favorite.

So I posted the above video for all my boys of fall, from my little one all the way up to you big ones who love the game.  Watch this one the whole way through if you can.  You'll see some greats, from Joe Paterno to Peyton Manning (love that guy).  Tim McGraw is my man, but I have to give to Kenny for this song and this video.  Enjoy.

Hopefully, I'll have a football star someday, even if he only plays for the orange and black and nothing beyond.  Sam will forever be my hero.  But another star was born today.  I gave birth to my labor of love on Labor Day weekend---my book, my novel, my heart and soul project I've thrown myself into for the last six months.  I made the last adjustments after midnight, so her official birth is today, September 6th, and for a special reason, of course.

I have honestly and openly admitted I am terrible at math and don't understand numbers.  Some of you readers struggle to write a sentence, with the pencil hovering over the blank page for an eternity before you can get a word down.  I'm like that with math.  I can't see it and it doesn't make sense.  I'm a good student, so I memorized it and practiced it and I'd be fine if all the problems were exactly the same, but throw a negative number in the equation and all hell breaks loose in my brain.  Despite of my lack of ability in the mathematical realm, I do enjoy numbers and they fascinate me.  Sometimes they even haunt me and in those instances I call myself Hurley--you LOST fans will understand.

Unlike my children, I got to pick my book's birthday, and I couldn't think of a better day than 9-6.  No matter how you work it, the numbers match with my own birthday of 3-3.  You can multiply them, add them, or put all four of them together and get all kinds of cool combinations.  My book's birthday is important to me, so I couldn't have it on just some random day.  September 6th it is, and I'm making a cake tonight.  A pink one with sprinkles and I am even having some.

So what's it about, Eloise, you ask?  The book is titled The Key, has some nice numbers worked into the story line.  It is an easy to read novel about my daughter Ellen and some discoveries she makes during the fall of the year.  There is good learning, humor, and Christian themes, all of which are important to me.  Ellen has been my first proof reader and she's hung with me chapter by chapter.  I judge how the writing process is going by watching her reaction.  So far, it's been a hit.

I wrote the end this weekend and she has not heard it yet.  Ellen asks me every day if it is done.  I just can't give it to her to read on some random day, of course.  She has to wait, because waiting and patience bring about good things.  Last weekend I was in a teasing mood and I left her with a cliff hanger chapter for her bedtime story.  Ellen, my usual late sleeper was up at the crack of dawn the next morning, asking me if I wrote further through the night (she knows me well, of course I did).  "Read it to me!" she demanded, "I can't stand it any more!  I have to know what happens!"  I told her at that point that I quit the book.  I got tired of writing it and I was going to stop.  Ellen paused, and squinted her eyes up at me and said, "Mom, you never quit anything.  I'll wait forever for it if I have to."  She's a chip off the old block.  I had my fun for another minute or two and then read her some more.

So what day will Eloise choose to give the first copy of an unrevised, unedited draft?  Why the last day of summer, of course, September 22nd, Ellen's 11th birthday.  I think that would be a nice way to officially to bid farewell to our favorite season, don't you.

And if you LOST fans want to see an even cooler way my numbers work together, consider this:  Oceanic flight 815 crashed on the island on September 22nd, 2004, birthing my favorite TV show of all time.  I remember watching the pilot episode while cleaning up the clutter of birthday wrappings and ice cream cake from Ellen's fourth birthday.  How about this one, too---look at the time length of the Kenny Chesney video posted above--8:15 in length.  You just can't make stuff up this good.  I think it is written in the stars that this novel is going to be a big hit.   Eloise knows, a star was born today.

Happy birthday to The Key,
Forever,
Eloise

Lesson 88: God is With Us

This is a post that needs not many of my words, just an urging to please pass this one along.  A news agency reported that this clip on youtube was receiving 10,000 views per hour.  I loved it so much that I posted it on my facebook page.  Given that Eloise keeps her identity mum, I have a whopping total of 94 facebook friends.  This blog, however has far greater readership--over 11,000 hits to date.  Therefore I am using both avenues of social media to spread this very important message.  I am hoping that my Slovenian friends will pass this along in their country as well.

After the third time I watched it and set down the Kleenex, I looked up the meaning of Emmanuel's name.  I knew it was something Biblical as I am a Christian and have recited it in prayers and sung it in songs (well tried to, anyway).  When I went to my name search site, I typed in "Emmanuel" in the search box.  A millisecond later, "God is with us" popped up.  My response was two little words: No doubt.

Imagine,
Eloise

Lesson 87: Wake Me Up When September Ends

Ahhh, September.  That joyous month for teachers.  That wonderful month when the kids return to school rested and ready to learn.................OK,  wake me up.  I'm dreaming.  I just put in four days and they are all not ready to return.  Trust me.  At Open House tonight I head the word "boring" thirty times in the first half hour.  Hang tight, kids.  We have books to pass out and rules to go over.  Stick with us for a few days and things will pick up.  Shortly you'll be whining because we are giving you too much work to do.  School is fun.  If you disagree, then you are not trying hard enough to make it fun.  It's all about attitude (read my last blog post).  Change your thinking and you can do anything--even memorizing your dreaded math facts.  There's no two ways around it--you need to know them, so stop making excuses and just get on with it.

I was looking for a September song.  I like it when my songs match the time of year.  I remembered this one from years ago from one of my favorite bands, Green Day.  Time of My Life is my #4 favorite song of all time and I wrote about it a month back.   I never watched the video before, and I have to admit, it sucked me in like a cheap reality TV show.  Originally I was thinking about my tiredness during the month of September and how the song would match my fatigue.  However when I watched the above video, it is a little movie about young love and a choice the boy makes.  I thought it was a predictable song, but it surprised me.  If you watch it the whole way through, it may surprise you, too.

It is a song about the innocence of young love.  It reminded me of the teenagers I've been working with at the high school for the last week.  I observe them in the hallways and they are a funny bunch.  May God bestow extra blessings upon you tonight if you are a parent of one.  Was I ever like that?  Did I ever sit alone in the bleachers wondering about someone?  Was I that naive?

It also got me thinking about how I don't like guys who wear eyeliner and I just had to wonder why the lead singer didn't fix his chipped front tooth.  He has to earn a good income from his record deals, doesn't he?  Surely the guy could afford dental work.  Nevertheless, the song I stumbled on by accident ended up making me think.  And that dear readers is what schools are trying to teach kids to do, to think.  Thinking is good, otherwise you are just existing and just existing is bad.


Here's to the stimulation of the mind.  Think.
Professor Eloise

Lesson 86: On the Road to My Favorite Song

While we are taking our backwards trip to my favorite song of all time, we will take a rest stop at Favorite Song #2--Broken Road by Rascal Flatts.  I love this song and I don't think I'll ever tire of listening to it.  I've listened to many artists sing their versions but my very favorite is a duet preformed by Gary Levox of Rascal Flatts and Carrie Underwood.  That is one big wow if you can find it on the Internet somewhere.
Here is a photo of the pair singing it.  Beautiful.

This seems like a sad song, but it really isn't.  It is a song about heartbreak, but the pain of it all leads you on a path to something greater, that it's all part of a grander plan, as the song suggests. Therefore the pain is purposeful.  Lesson learned.  I'm a girl who prefers a good laugh over a good cry any day.  I don't want to list my heartbreaks in life and make you sad at the end of the summer.  Instead I'll tell you about this summer's true "broken road" experience.  A jogging story, and a humorous one at that:

If you've been following this blog for the last year (10,000 hits in 12 months), you are aware that I have taken up outdoor running as my newest form of exercise.  I've been a treadmill addict for years and quite preferred the sanctity of my basement for my daily exercise.  But that got old after awhile so I decided to change it up a bit.  In May, I tried my luck on the road a time or two and limped for a couple days afterwards.  My shins were mad at me.   But in time, they grew used to the new pounding and my daily trots were something I looked forward to.

I always take along a fanny pack when I go jogging.  When you are outside in the countryside, you never know what you may run into.  I have water, Kleenex, Benedryl, bug spray, a whistle, dog biscuits for those flesh eating farm dogs (I'm trying to make friends with them), my cell phone, and Ellen's little camera.  The snapshots from the above photo movie are from my morning jogs around my area and where we go camping.

I kept at it all summer long--I never missed a single day---6 days a week, allowing for one day of rest on Sundays just as the Good Lord ordered.  One morning a few weeks ago, I encountered my first rainstorm.  The lightning delayed my run for about an hour, and it seemed to be letting up.  I didn't want to break my streak, and was determined I'd get out there, even for a short one, just to say I did it.  It was this day that I will always refer to as my Broken Road Run.  Read on.

I sneaked into the bedroom as not to wake my snoring mate, and thought I'd just throw on my jogging undergarments beneath my pajamas which the pj bottoms read GAP GIVE BACK, across the arse.  They weren't something I'd ordinarily be caught running in, but hey,  I was just going for a short run, and no other lunatic would be dodging lightning bolts down in the park, so I took my chances.

Note:  whenever you try to sneak, you always seem to get caught----because that is just what happened to me--I awoke the sleeping beast and he very encouragingly said, "I hope you plan on getting wet."  My husband is nearly blind without his glasses, so he didn't see me stick my tongue out at him.  I grumbled and moved on.

That comment kind of put me in a grumpy state, so no songs from my God's Songs playlist.  I needed to run fast because I knew it could very well rain again, so I opted for the heavy metal folder on my iPod--mean, shouty music with lots of guitars and drums---yeah, that would be perfect.  I put my iPod in a protective baggie, clipped it to my fanny pack, and got my fanny moving.

I no sooner rounded the corner to the park and a cloud let go--like one of those cloud bursts out of nowhere--a total down pour.  Rather than go home and face the I Told You So of an unsupportive husband, I decided to change my attitude.  I switched my iPod to Luke Bryan's Rain is a Good Thing, and thought of the thirsty vegetables growing in my garden that needed it.  Change your attitude Eloise and you can do anything, God reminded me.

Maybe today I would try something different.  Maybe I'd try to run fast like Kenyan Karen, my super speedy sister.  Yeah--that's it.  I'll try a short, fast, heart pumping run today--even if it was just a mile or so, it would be good for the old ticker.  I decided to sprint through the rain as fast as I could to the pond about half a mile from my house and seek shelter under its lone tree.  I was doing pretty well until that little thing called a MUSCLE CRAMP got me in the right calf.  Crippling pain.  I made it to the Pond Sign, which is full of bullet holes, and grabbed it to steady myself while I stretched out my calf.  I kept thinking, If I am holding onto this metal sign and God sends a lightning bolt from the sky in close proximity to where I am standing, would I be electrocuted?  

So now I am paranoid, in pain, and soaking wet.  Not a good combination for a crabby Eloise.  I suddenly wished I would have turned back because my cramp won't go away and I have the urge to kick something, so I kick the sign post.  Hard.  At least the pain in my toe trumped the pain in my calf for about 3 seconds until I landed on my butt.  I was so full of grouchy, I kicked the sign a little too hard and lost my footing and fell......right into a pile of goose poop!

GAP GIVE BACK got something back alright.  Crap. Literally and figuratively.  I had to regroup and needed the tree as an umbrella.  I limped over to the tree to lean against it, forgetting the tree is a locust.  The trunk was smooth, but the immature branches of a locust tree have big, sharp thorns protruding from them.  I wasn't looking closely when I leaned back onto one of those thorns and now I had to pluck one of those out of my wet, muddy, goose pooped, GAP GIVE BACK pajamas.

Then and there I almost quit.  ALMOST.  Seconds away.  But Eloise is not a quitter. I never give up.  Then I looked to the woods and noticed the opening.  It is the first picture on the movie.  I started to think that it was probably drier in there, and heck, I was wet anyway.  Change your attitude Eloise, and you can do anything the Lord reminded me again.  I blew kisses to God and thanked him for the revelation, and started out on the next leg of the journey in a better mood, albeit a bit slimy.

I was quite surprised that the woods was really no drier than the open fields, and after stepping in my second puddle, I realized I put my newer sneakers on--not my old beater ones for when the earth is muddy. I think a bad word again, then apologize to God because I know he heard it.  Tsk, Tsk, Change your attitude Eloise....God said.  OK, OK--I heard 'ya---I guess I now have two pair of beaters.  Yeah!

I looked at the woods on that stretch with different eyes as I ran through the rain, paying no mind to any puddles.  It was beautiful.   The bark of the trees were dark with moisture.  There was so much humidity in the depths of those woods that it made this beautiful fog throughout the forest.  There were places so pretty that I decided to stop and snap some pictures.  I had Ellen's little camera but unfortunately it wasn't powerful enough to grab those images in the darkness, so I'll just have to remember those places in my mind.

While I stopped to get one of those photos, I kicked out two deer.  They almost ran right over me and one I swear was an elk.  He was H-U-G-E.  He must have been eating my apples from the tree in my yard.  I still had the camera in my hand, so I tried to snap his picture.  Tried and FAILED I should say.  Killed the battery on the dumb shot I took before that one.  Great.  I almost died from a head on collision from some sort of freakishly huge mule deer and I can't even get a picture of it.  Here comes the nasty again.  It's creeping back.

Just get home, my precious, muddy child, the Lord says to me.  Okey dokey, was my response.  I took off flying through the rest of those woods.  I was wet, muddy, crabby, pooped on, and out of breath by the time I popped out of the woods and hit the road to home.  Just a couple of football fields and I'd be back in the safety of my garage.  I turned my nice, even, controlled pace into this ugly sort of "run like the devil's chasin' ya' sort of thing.  I wasn't really paying attention, because it took every ounce of my gumption to keep my legs moving at that rate when I looked up to see a truck beside me.  I didn't hear it because I was blasting Metallica in my ears.  It was Fitzgerald my neighbor--the bane of my existence in junior high because he constantly teased me--then bought a house three down from mine as an adult.  We've since become friends, but he's not the sort of chap that you want to see you in that condition.  He honked, waved, and I could see him toss his head back in a chuckle.  Man did I hate the whole world right then.

Upon return to my house, I tried to sneak in without being heard.  Do you remember the special reader's note I put on here earlier:  when you try to sneak, you get caught...well I got caught.  Hubby was up and looking smug.  He greeted me with an "I told you so" which I pretended not to hear as I unpacked my very wet fanny pack.  Bug spray--no damage; dog biscuits---disintegrated; Kleenex--resembled wet toilet paper; camera--dried off the lens but still OK; cell phone----cell phone-----cell phone----OH MY GOD WHERE IS MY CELL PHONE!!!!!!!!  I realized it must have fallen out when I opened my pack way deep in the woods to photograph Dasher. ...................................................I put all those dots there because I can't really write what I said on this public blog, so you can fill in what you think there.  Pretend it's a guessing game.  Have fun with it.

I jumped on my mountain bike and headed back down.  It had stopped raining for the moment, so that was a good thing.  Just had to concentrate on finding that cell phone before it got soaked.  I was riding downhill pretty fast and when I hit the woods trails I noticed something happened between the run and the bike ride.  The temperature must have climbed 5 degrees and there were these big black clouds hanging low in the woods.  What the heck?????  I said.  I really wished I would have thought that one instead of said that one because I found out soon enough.  9 million mosquitoes or maybe gnats came out to play in those warm, moist woods.  Whatever they were there were swarms of them.  I drove right through them on my bike.  They went up my nostrils, down my throat, and I inhaled a couple.  I coughed and spit and gagged up bugs for the next quarter mile now in a pissier mood then ever.  I was just about to scream a very bad word at the top of my lungs to no one in particular, when I saw it.  MY PHONE!  There she was, lying on the side of the path with but a few raindrops on her.  She was alive!  I had to get her out of the rain and I realized I left my fanny pack on the kitchen counter.  There was no place else dry to put her, so I had to shove her down the back of my GAP GIVE BACK pajama bottoms.  They got something back alright.

Change your attitude, Eloise the Lord reminded me again.  Sigh---okay, okay, can't get much worse.  I thought I'd liven things up a bit and pretended in my mind that I was Lance Armstrong on the Tour de France.  I was going to pedal as hard and fast as I could no matter how much my quads burned.  Heck, I had a twitchy calf, a stubbed toe, and a locust thorn in my arse, so what's the matter with a couple of lactic acid filled quadriceps?  Plus all those bugs were chasing me because they were pissed off that I just ate some of their friends.  I was a wanted woman.  What I failed to factor in is that mud gets very slippery when its wet.  I probably shouldn't have taken that last hill by the creek at top speed because my bike slid out from underneath me and I wrecked.  And it was an ugly one.  I was bent, tangled, muddy, and this time I did scream.  I picked up a rock and threw it just because it felt good to throw something.  I called to my elk to come help me up and do you know that apple eating jerk didn't even come to my rescue.  Forget him.  The hunters can have him come November.

I prayed that I would have at least one broken bone, just so I could muster up some sympathy from my hubby, but I was able to stand on my own two legs without needing assistance.  Shoot.  I looked down to see my chain had fallen off, so now add GREASE to the list of things that covered my body.

Defeated, I rode slowly home, hoping to get hit by a bolt of lightning--you know, that sympathy thing again, but no luck.  I walked into the kitchen and hubby was sitting at the counter eating pancakes, of which he saved none for me.  "What in the hell happened to you?" he said.  I couldn't even respond.  I needed a shower, some floss to remove the gnats from my teeth, and a surgeon to remove the hooked tip of the locust thorn from my bruised backside.  The bruises there were nothing when compared to the bruises on my ego.

I sighed and took five steps through the kitchen, only to hear a clatter on the floor.  It was the cell phone and it had just fallen from the leg of my GAP GIVE BACK pajamas.  Guess they gave me my phone back.  My back was to hubby, so I can only imagine his expression of (surprise, bewilderment, disgust--you choose).

And that my friends, is my broken road story.  I bet you'll never think of this song the same way again.

God bless you,
Eloise
  

Lesson 85: Back to School

Here is a short little post for all parents.  It is one of my favorite commercials of all time.  I bet this is how some of you are feeling right now.

If I could find a way to cut and paste a sundress and cowgirl boots on this guy, he could pass for my sister, because I am sure that is about how she's feeling at the moment.  Yes, tonight Karen's a bit sad that summer has ended--even though it is her son's birthday.  The warmth of twelve candles on a birthday cake couldn't take away the coolness of the fall nights that are creeping toward us.  But come Monday, when both of her fellas head off to school, she'll be (and I quote this) "doing cartwheels in her front yard."  That may be mighty tricky on a hilly lot wearing cowgirl boots.  Be careful, Sis.  You can't be a good mom with a broken leg.

Welcome back to school, kids.  Mrs. Eloise can't wait to see you, and I mean that!  Forget January--tomorrow is really the first day of the new year.  Let's all resolve to make this the best one yet.

Work hard and learn lots,
Mrs. Eloise