Sherry Ellis's Blog, page 130
November 10, 2011
Psycho Dog
I'm beginning to think our 14 month old German Shepherd has some mental problems.
He spent over an hour staring at a reflection on the grass caused by a plastic bird feeder. And it wasn't like he was just lying on the ground looking at it. He was in full pounce mode. Whenever a breeze came, the reflection moved. He was right on it.
"Dog, what are you doing?" I didn't expect and answer, but I thought I might break his hypnotic train of thought.
He didn't even look at me.
My daughter tried. "Schultzey Wultzey...Come to sissy!"
His eyeballs stayed glued to the reflection.
What a goofball! Finally, after about an hour and twenty minutes, he let out a very long mournful howl. (I didn't know German Shepherds did that, either.) The reflection was just too much for his little brain to handle.
(Anybody know a good dog shrink? I may need to find him some professional help.)
He spent over an hour staring at a reflection on the grass caused by a plastic bird feeder. And it wasn't like he was just lying on the ground looking at it. He was in full pounce mode. Whenever a breeze came, the reflection moved. He was right on it.
"Dog, what are you doing?" I didn't expect and answer, but I thought I might break his hypnotic train of thought.
He didn't even look at me.
My daughter tried. "Schultzey Wultzey...Come to sissy!"
His eyeballs stayed glued to the reflection.
What a goofball! Finally, after about an hour and twenty minutes, he let out a very long mournful howl. (I didn't know German Shepherds did that, either.) The reflection was just too much for his little brain to handle.
(Anybody know a good dog shrink? I may need to find him some professional help.)
November 9, 2011
Carpet Cursive
Today I found my seven-year-old son writing with his finger on our carpet.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Carpet cursive."
I looked down and tried to follow his scribble.
"See...M...O...M." Then he wrote above it, "N...O."
"No, Mom?" I asked.
"Yep. No, Mom."
I shook my head and went about my business. A little while later my husband found the carpet cursive.
"Why were you writing on the carpet?" he asked me.
"I didn't..."
"First you mess up the walls with that Halloween stuff you put on them. Now you're messing up the carpet..."
"But...."
My son came out of his room with a big grin on his face. "No, Mom!"
Ugh.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Carpet cursive."
I looked down and tried to follow his scribble.
"See...M...O...M." Then he wrote above it, "N...O."
"No, Mom?" I asked.
"Yep. No, Mom."
I shook my head and went about my business. A little while later my husband found the carpet cursive.
"Why were you writing on the carpet?" he asked me.
"I didn't..."
"First you mess up the walls with that Halloween stuff you put on them. Now you're messing up the carpet..."
"But...."
My son came out of his room with a big grin on his face. "No, Mom!"
Ugh.
November 8, 2011
Magic Spell
I took my kids out for lunch today, since it was their day off.
My son seemed to have some trouble acting like a civilized human being. First, he poured salt on his head. Then he dabbed ketchup on his nose. Then he got up and did a little dance.
"What are you doing?" I asked, completely shocked that he would behave in such a manner.
"Having fun," he said.
"That is just barbaric. Sit down, wipe the ketchup off of your face, and behave like a gentleman."
"Okay, but first you have to say the magic spell."
"What magic spell?"
"The one that makes me sit down and behave."
"Okay. Hokus Pokus Dominokus. Please sit down. Don't be a Blokus."
Apparently I got the right one. He sat down and behaved for the rest of the meal.
My son seemed to have some trouble acting like a civilized human being. First, he poured salt on his head. Then he dabbed ketchup on his nose. Then he got up and did a little dance.
"What are you doing?" I asked, completely shocked that he would behave in such a manner.
"Having fun," he said.
"That is just barbaric. Sit down, wipe the ketchup off of your face, and behave like a gentleman."
"Okay, but first you have to say the magic spell."
"What magic spell?"
"The one that makes me sit down and behave."
"Okay. Hokus Pokus Dominokus. Please sit down. Don't be a Blokus."
Apparently I got the right one. He sat down and behaved for the rest of the meal.
November 7, 2011
Belly Buttons
My son has always had a fascination with belly buttons. I don't know why. He just seems to think they're cute.
"Mommy, does the dog have a belly button?"
"Yes. Somewhere under all that fur is a belly button."
"Can I look?"
"Have at it, kid. But don't blame me if he nips your fingers."
He searched and searched, but could not find the belly button on our German Shepherd. Maybe he's a mutant. That would explain a lot of things.
"Mommy, what are belly buttons for?"
"What do you think they're for?"
He thought about that. "Well, I know what mine is for."
"What?"
"It's for pressing. And when I press it, I go 'beep.'"
"Mommy, does the dog have a belly button?"
"Yes. Somewhere under all that fur is a belly button."
"Can I look?"
"Have at it, kid. But don't blame me if he nips your fingers."
He searched and searched, but could not find the belly button on our German Shepherd. Maybe he's a mutant. That would explain a lot of things.
"Mommy, what are belly buttons for?"
"What do you think they're for?"
He thought about that. "Well, I know what mine is for."
"What?"
"It's for pressing. And when I press it, I go 'beep.'"
Blog Tour De Troops
This Veteran's Day weekend, Indie Book Collective's Blog Tour de Troops is giving back to the men and women who safeguard our freedom.
50 Indie Authors will be giving away their book to every person who comments and a book to the soldier of their choice. And...as many troops as possible will also be receiving free Kindles!
Remember to visit this blog on Monday, November 14th and leave a comment to receive a free ebook of That Mama is a Grouch for you and a soldier.
50 Indie Authors will be giving away their book to every person who comments and a book to the soldier of their choice. And...as many troops as possible will also be receiving free Kindles!
Remember to visit this blog on Monday, November 14th and leave a comment to receive a free ebook of That Mama is a Grouch for you and a soldier.
November 5, 2011
Osage Orange Ball
My son had a cub scout hike today at a local park. When we arrived at the location, we found some mighty strange round things on the ground.
My son picked up one of the yellowish-greenish brain ball-looking things and asked what it was.
"An osage orange," said the troop leader. "They're from the thorny osage tree. And did you know the Indians who used to live here, used the thorns as needles for sewing mocassins?"
Pretty cool info.
I'm not sure the cub scouts cared about what tree it came from, but they did think that it looked like a rather nice soccer ball, so they started kicking it around. Unfortunately, the boys got a little rowdy, and ended up knocking over my son.
"Ow!" he said. "I have a contusion. Please get a gurney!"
Huh? Where did my seven-year-old pick up language like that?
Anyway, I patched him up with my first aid kit and he was good to go for the hike.
Afterwards we had to bring home some of those osage orange things. I hear they're good for keeping spiders out of the garage.
My son picked up one of the yellowish-greenish brain ball-looking things and asked what it was.
"An osage orange," said the troop leader. "They're from the thorny osage tree. And did you know the Indians who used to live here, used the thorns as needles for sewing mocassins?"
Pretty cool info.
I'm not sure the cub scouts cared about what tree it came from, but they did think that it looked like a rather nice soccer ball, so they started kicking it around. Unfortunately, the boys got a little rowdy, and ended up knocking over my son.
"Ow!" he said. "I have a contusion. Please get a gurney!"
Huh? Where did my seven-year-old pick up language like that?
Anyway, I patched him up with my first aid kit and he was good to go for the hike.
Afterwards we had to bring home some of those osage orange things. I hear they're good for keeping spiders out of the garage.
November 4, 2011
Teaching the Dog to Dance
My ten-year-old daughter likes to dance. A lot. In fact she likes it so much, that she decided to teach our 100 pound German Shepherd some dance moves.
I found her in the kitchen with the hairy beast. "Okay," she said. "Here's how you do a passe." She demonstrated the move.
The beast cocked his head.
"Your turn."
The beast drooled. He wanted a treat. He moved his big paws. It didn't look like a passe to me, but apparently my daughter thought it was good enough.
"Good boy, Schultz! Here's a treat!"
He gobbled it up.
Next move was a tandeux. Don't ask me to explain it. The dog didn't get it either.
On to the last move which was a pirouette. I don't know how she did it, but my daughter got our dog to stand on his hind legs and spin in a circle. Sort of. It was more like jumping in a circle. Regardless, it was an impressive move.
I think I'll go buy the dog a tutu. He has a future as a ballerina. Or something.
I found her in the kitchen with the hairy beast. "Okay," she said. "Here's how you do a passe." She demonstrated the move.
The beast cocked his head.
"Your turn."
The beast drooled. He wanted a treat. He moved his big paws. It didn't look like a passe to me, but apparently my daughter thought it was good enough.
"Good boy, Schultz! Here's a treat!"
He gobbled it up.
Next move was a tandeux. Don't ask me to explain it. The dog didn't get it either.
On to the last move which was a pirouette. I don't know how she did it, but my daughter got our dog to stand on his hind legs and spin in a circle. Sort of. It was more like jumping in a circle. Regardless, it was an impressive move.
I think I'll go buy the dog a tutu. He has a future as a ballerina. Or something.
November 3, 2011
Rotten Tomatoes
First of all, I thought German Shepherds had good noses. Second of all, I thought German Shepherds were supposed to be smart.
I don't know, but I think our German Shepherd is on the short end of the stick when it comes to those two things.
Today, I found him scrounging in my garden. I hadn't cleaned up the old tomato plants yet, and there was a plethora of rotten tomatoes on the ground. My dumb dog found a few and started chowing down.
"Beast!" I hollared. "Get those out of your mouth. Yuck!"
He didn't listen. And I sure as heck wasn't going to stick my hand in his mouth to pull out a rotten tomato.
I few minutes later, I found him heaving in the corner of the yard. He was puking up rotten tomatoes.
"See, you stupid dog. You should've listened."
I guess I should go clean up the rotten apples. Those will be next.
I don't know, but I think our German Shepherd is on the short end of the stick when it comes to those two things.
Today, I found him scrounging in my garden. I hadn't cleaned up the old tomato plants yet, and there was a plethora of rotten tomatoes on the ground. My dumb dog found a few and started chowing down.
"Beast!" I hollared. "Get those out of your mouth. Yuck!"
He didn't listen. And I sure as heck wasn't going to stick my hand in his mouth to pull out a rotten tomato.
I few minutes later, I found him heaving in the corner of the yard. He was puking up rotten tomatoes.
"See, you stupid dog. You should've listened."
I guess I should go clean up the rotten apples. Those will be next.
November 2, 2011
Bug Murderer
My kids have the terrible habit of leaving the door open when they are chatting with friends on the porch. Bugs seem to take advantage of this. They fly right in and make themselves at home.
One such bug made its way into my daughter's room. She completely freaked. I found her jumping on her bed, attempting to swat the thing with her Pixie magazine.
"Hey, chill," I said. "It's just a bug."
"Can you kill it?"
"No. It's up too high."
That didn't stop my daughter. She hurled her magazine at the hapless creature, knocking it to the ground. Then she jumped off her bed, picked up the magazine, and proceeded to beat the living daylights out of it.
"You're murdering it," I said.
She didn't care. She beat it until it stopped moving. Then she scraped it up with a crochet needle and magazine and deposited it in the garbage.
"There," she said, all pleased with herself.
"Let me see that magazine," I said.
I looked at the back cover. Bug guts were smeared all over Justin Bieber's face.
I shrugged my shoulders. Mission accomplished.
One such bug made its way into my daughter's room. She completely freaked. I found her jumping on her bed, attempting to swat the thing with her Pixie magazine.
"Hey, chill," I said. "It's just a bug."
"Can you kill it?"
"No. It's up too high."
That didn't stop my daughter. She hurled her magazine at the hapless creature, knocking it to the ground. Then she jumped off her bed, picked up the magazine, and proceeded to beat the living daylights out of it.
"You're murdering it," I said.
She didn't care. She beat it until it stopped moving. Then she scraped it up with a crochet needle and magazine and deposited it in the garbage.
"There," she said, all pleased with herself.
"Let me see that magazine," I said.
I looked at the back cover. Bug guts were smeared all over Justin Bieber's face.
I shrugged my shoulders. Mission accomplished.
November 1, 2011
The Tooth Fairy is Fired
The tooth fairy has not exactly done a stellar job at our house. She seems to be a little absent-minded. I really don't know what her problem is. But my kids are sick of her shoddy work habits.
Last night, my daughter was chomping on a piece of halloween candy. Out popped a tooth.
"Oh look," she said. "Another job for the tooth fairy!"
She put it in the special tooth fairy pouch and hung it on her door. (She likes to make things easy for the tooth fairy.) "Now remember, mom, the tooth fairy is supposed to come tonight."
"Yeah, okay," I said.
Fast forward to today.
"Mom!" my daughter said. "The tooth fairy didn't come!"
Oops.
"Well, maybe the tooth fairy got scared because of all the monsters and ghosts running around last night."
My daughter gave me a funny look.
"Or maybe she was just super busy because lots of kids lost teeth chewing on caramels," I reasoned.
"Mom," my daughter said. "The tooth fairy is fired."
Uh, oh.
Last night, my daughter was chomping on a piece of halloween candy. Out popped a tooth.
"Oh look," she said. "Another job for the tooth fairy!"
She put it in the special tooth fairy pouch and hung it on her door. (She likes to make things easy for the tooth fairy.) "Now remember, mom, the tooth fairy is supposed to come tonight."
"Yeah, okay," I said.
Fast forward to today.
"Mom!" my daughter said. "The tooth fairy didn't come!"
Oops.
"Well, maybe the tooth fairy got scared because of all the monsters and ghosts running around last night."
My daughter gave me a funny look.
"Or maybe she was just super busy because lots of kids lost teeth chewing on caramels," I reasoned.
"Mom," my daughter said. "The tooth fairy is fired."
Uh, oh.
