Sherry Ellis's Blog, page 128

Bubba's Milk Shake

"Mama, I'm going to make a milk shake," my seven-year-old son said.

"Okay," I said.  I couldn't wait to see how he'd make one.  I sat back and watched. 

First he got out a can of Reddiwip.  He sprayed a generous amount into a tall glass.  Then he put in a little ice water followed by some ice cubes.

"Ta-da!  Here'e the milk shake!"

"Are you seriously going to drink that?"

"Yeah.  Can you get me a straw?"

I pulled out a nice one with blue stripes.  He stuck it in the concoction and slurped it up. 

"Mmmm.  Yummy."

Nothing like a glass of Reddiwip and ice! 

Hillbilly Light Job

I'm the one who does all the decorating for the holidays - inside and out. 

Today my husband saw me up on the ladder stringing up lights on our house.  "Woman, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"A hillybilly light job."  He pointed to the yarn I used to secure the spiraling lights around the porch columns.  Then he pointed to the blue painter's tape that secured the lights around the door.  "What's all this string and tape here?  Don't you know you can go to Lowes and pick up some hooks?"

"Do you really want me putting hooks in all the pillars?"

"I don't care."

Yeah, right.

Then he looked at the string of lights that I had used as garland across the top of our porch.  "Aren't those supposed to be icicles?"

"Yeah.  But I'm thinking outside of the box.  It's going to be pretty blue garland."

He shook his head.  "Hillybilly woman."

Fast forward to this evening.  Every student who walked into my house commented on how pretty the lights looked.  I even noticed extra cars driving down the street to our cul-de-sac just to see them. 

So there.  I don't care what anybody says.  This hillybilly does a gosh darn good job of stringin' lights!   

Counting Snowflakes

We had our first snowfall of the year this evening.  It was rather pretty.  Of course, my son was very excited about it.  Because... well, I guess because snow is just exciting to a kid.

"Mama!  Come count snowflakes with me!"

"Okay," I said.

We parked ourselves on the floor of his bedroom and looked out the window. 

"Mama, turn off the light so we can see them better."

I obliged.  The sky was dark.  The spotlights on the back of our house were on.  They made the snow look like tiny crystals shining against the night sky.

We sat in silence for a while, admiring their beauty. 

"Mama, I think there's a billion of them."

"You may be right.  And no two are the same."

"But what if they melted, and evaporated, and came back down again?  Would they be the same as the first ones that came down?"

"No.  They'd be different."

"Wow!"

Aren't the simplest things in life the most amazing?
 

Rolling in the Mud

It's been raining in Cincinnati quite a bit these last few days.  As a result, the ground has become rather muddy.  This is not good, especially when one has a dog who likes to romp around outside.

This evening I was trying to teach violin lessons.  The dog decided to start barking.  And he wouldn't shut up.  This was unacceptable, so I sent him outside.  Well, that was a mistake, because then he decided to roll in the mud.  I kid you not.  The hundred pound German Shepherd found the muddiest patch of dirt and rolled in it.

Needless to say, we were not pleased.

"Schultz!" my husband yelled at the dirty varmint.  "Crate!"

The dog complied, but as soon as he got in his crate, he gave himself a good shake.  Mud went flying everywhere.  So picture our kitchen walls splattered with mud.  Picture our floor covered in muddy paw prints.

"That dog needs a bath,"  my husband announced.

"Could you wait for him to dry off a bit?"

"No."

My husband opened the latch.  "Bathtub!"

Schultz knew just what that meant.  He galloped up the stairs leaving a trail of muddy paw prints on the carpet and splashes of mud all over the walls.

"Woman.  You get to clean that up."

Grrrr.

Now here's the kicker.  After that disgusting creature got bathed (the water, by the way, was completely black and dirty dog hair was plastered to the bathroom walls), he had the nerve to pee on the dining room floor.  Can you believe it? That dog for sure is getting a stocking full of coal.  Bad dog!

Thirsty Dog

My German Shepherd is a barbarian.

Today, I heard a strange sound coming from the bathroom.  Puzzled, I went over to investigate.  What do you think I saw?  A hairy creature with a big bushy tail .  I didn't see his head, because his head was in the toilet. The strange sound was the sound of water being slurped. 

"Schultz!  Get your head out of the toilet right now!" I bellowed.

He turned around.  Toilet water was dripping from his jowels.

"You disgusting varmint!  You should be ashamed of yourself!"

He licked his chops and looked at me.  He wasn't ashamed of himself at all. He just trotted off to find more trouble. 

What am I ever going to do with him? 

Eating the Christmas Tree

The Christmas tree has been up less than 24 hours, and already the dog is trying to eat it.

We usually don't let our big old German Shepherd (who's only 14 months old) run around the house.  He's either in his crate or tied up to the back door.  My husband thought it would be a good idea to start letting him have a little freedom.  I have to tell you, I'm really questioning the timing on this one.  All of the Christmas stuff is up.  You know, as well as I, that for a dog, it's all just too much of a temptation.

Anyway, I just happened to glance in the family room, and there he was, mouthing an ornament.

"Schultz!"

He looked at me with his big brown eyes.

"Don't even think about it."

He looked back at the tree.  He looked at me.  Then he grabbed an ornament and ran.

"Schultz!"

Bad dog!  I guarantee Santa will be giving that varmint a big lump of coal!

Silly Students

I usually don't write about the antics of my students, but today, I just felt I had too. 

I was teaching piano lessons, and the sisters I was teaching must've drank some silly juice. They couldn't stop laughing.  One was sitting on the sofa giggling while the other attempted to play.

"Hey, what is up with you today?" I asked the sister on the sofa.

"I don't know," she said.

"Well, try to settle down.  You're distracting your sister."

No sooner had I finished saying that, then the other sister who was at the piano started cracking her knuckles during the rests in her music - right on the beat.

"What's going on, here?" I asked.

Both girls started laughing out of control.  I think they must've eaten too much turkey yesterday, or something.  What a couple of nuts!

Smokin' Turkey

What's a holiday without a little excitement?  Pretty boring, I'd say.  Thanksgiving at my house this year was definitely exciting.  We smoked everybody out.  Yep.  We were roasting the big bird in the oven at about 500 degrees.  There must've been some grime in the oven, because suddenly, there was an awful lot of smoke pouring out of that thing.

All of the fire alarms in the house went off.  It was mass pandemonium. The house filled with smoke. The dog was freaking out.  Everyone was covering their ears.  I was trying to open the windows and stop the alarms.  Do you know what it's like trying to disconnect smoke alarms when they're shrieking in that high-pitched beep?  Oy!

My ears are still ringing from that. (I let the dog out, but I think his ears are ringing, too.)

The good news is that the house didn't burn down, and the turkey tasted pretty good.

Bacon and Pickles

I took my kids to Subway for lunch today.  I like that place because we can usually create something healthy.  Usually.  Today was the exception.

"Mama, I want to tell them what I want," my seven-year-old son said.

"Okay."  I didn't think he'd come up with anything too outrageous.

"I'll take a six-inch Italian with bacon and American cheese, toasted," my big guy said to the worker behind the counter.

I made a face.  "Bacon and American cheese?"

"Yeah.  It'll be good!"

"What would you like on that?" the worker asked.

"Cucumbers, lettuce, and pickles."

"Pickles?"  I asked.  "Are you sure?  That doesn't sound very appetizing."

"Pickles."

I sighed. 

The lady sitting at the table next to us laughed.  "Yeah, my son ordered a ketchup, mustard, and salami sandwich.  He thought it was great!"

I shook my head as I watched my son gobble his concoction.  And the funny thing is, if I would have made that at home, he would have spit it out and thrown it in the garbage.  Maybe.

 

Snow White and the Wicked Witch

"Mama, come help us make a movie," my ten-year-old daughter said.

"Huh?" I said.  "What are you talking about?"

"Come on, and we'll show you."

I went downstairs into the kitchen and saw my son with some kind of white scarf tied around his head.  I also saw a bike helmet loaded with fruit, topped by an apple that had a bite taken out of it.

"We're filming Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.  Only we don't have seven dwarfs so we're just doing the part where Snow White eats the poison apple."

I looked at my son.

I looked at my daughter.

"Okay.  Which one of you is Snow White?"

"I am," said my daughter.  "Can't you tell?"

So they attempted to enact the play, but inevitably my son would bust out laughing.

"Mama, you be the witch," my daughter said exasperated.

Just then my husband walked in the room.  He overheard the conversation.  "Yeah," he said.  "Mama would be a good witch, and she wouldn't even have to act!"

So I played the part of the witch, and I did it perfectly.  He's right - I am a good witch!