Sherry Ellis's Blog, page 96
December 1, 2012
Dumb Ways to Die and a Book Giveaway
Yesterday, when my kids came home from school, they were singing the song, "Dumb Ways to Die." It's from a Metro video about train safety. The thing has apparently gone viral, and everybody is singing it. I was surprised that my kids knew all the words.
"I saw it on my iPod," my daughter explained.
"How many times did you watch it?"
"About twenty."
In case you haven't seen it, here's the original version:
While you are hanging out here, watching this Saturday stupidity, I'm going to be over at Tracy Campbell's blog, answering questions about my two books, and giving some away. If you have a minute, please stop by!
(Actually, when you read this, I will probably be balancing precariously on a ladder, hanging Christmas lights on my roof. Oh. Wait a minute. Is that a dumb way to die? Maybe I'd better rethink that!)
November 30, 2012
Captured Cookies
Today I made about three dozen chocolate chip cookies. After they had cooled, I put them in a tupperware container and left them on the counter. Then I went off to work. When I came back, the cookies were gone. In their place, was a note that said: "If you want to see your cookies alive, you must bake five dozen more and leave them on the kitchen table."
I knew Schultz didn't write that note, and neither did the bird. There was only one person in the house who could've written it: My husband.
I marched into his office. "Excuse me. Did you kidnap my cookies?"
He gave me his Mr. Innocent look.
"Don't give me that look," I said. "I know you kidnapped my cookies!"
"Well, you never make any for me. You always give them away," he retorted. "And if you let me have any, they're always the reject broken ones!"
"Yeah, so?" I said. "That doesn't mean you can just kidnap my cookies!"
"You're not getting them back!"
Grrr. I'm going to report this incident to the cookie police, because I sure don't feel like baking five dozen more!
I knew Schultz didn't write that note, and neither did the bird. There was only one person in the house who could've written it: My husband.
I marched into his office. "Excuse me. Did you kidnap my cookies?"
He gave me his Mr. Innocent look.
"Don't give me that look," I said. "I know you kidnapped my cookies!"
"Well, you never make any for me. You always give them away," he retorted. "And if you let me have any, they're always the reject broken ones!"
"Yeah, so?" I said. "That doesn't mean you can just kidnap my cookies!"
"You're not getting them back!"
Grrr. I'm going to report this incident to the cookie police, because I sure don't feel like baking five dozen more!
November 29, 2012
Bubba's Composition
My eight-year-old son has decided to compose his own songs. "Mama," he said, "listen to this!"
The boy started singing:
"Eat pie, eat pie.
Everybody eat pie.
You will die, unless you eat pie.
Eat pie, eat pie
when you're sitting on the bucket,
or zombies will invade you.
Eat pie, eat pie.
Everybody eat pie.
You will die, unless you eat pie."
I nearly died laughing. "Wow, Bubba," I said. "That's amazing!"
"I made a video, too!" He showed me his Nintendo DS with the audio recording and stick figure zombies. "Can I put it on YouTube?"
"I 'll have to think about that," I said.
So, everybody, you all need to go out and get yourself some pie, because you don't want to die. And you most certainly do not want the zombies to invade you!
The boy started singing:
"Eat pie, eat pie.
Everybody eat pie.
You will die, unless you eat pie.
Eat pie, eat pie
when you're sitting on the bucket,
or zombies will invade you.
Eat pie, eat pie.
Everybody eat pie.
You will die, unless you eat pie."
I nearly died laughing. "Wow, Bubba," I said. "That's amazing!"
"I made a video, too!" He showed me his Nintendo DS with the audio recording and stick figure zombies. "Can I put it on YouTube?"
"I 'll have to think about that," I said.
So, everybody, you all need to go out and get yourself some pie, because you don't want to die. And you most certainly do not want the zombies to invade you!
November 28, 2012
Stupid Mama
Wasn't it just a month ago that my daughter said I was freakishly smart? Well, now I'm freakishly stupid - at least according to her.
"Mom, can you help me with my homework?" she asked.
"Sure," I said. "What do you have?"
She showed me her math problems. The question was, "Is 12 1/2% of 800 greater then 25% of 400?" I immediately knew that they were equal, and tried to explain this to my daughter.
"25% is the same as 1/4. If you divide 400 by 4, the answer is 100. 12 1/2 percent is half of 25%, which is the same as 1/8. If you divide 800 by 8, the answer is 100."
She looked at me like I had rocks in my head. "Mom, you don't know what you're talking about."
"Okay," I said. "You can also multiply 800 by .125. That equals 100. If you multiply 400 by .25, that equals 100."
She gave me another look. "You're not supposed to multiply."
"Well, the word, 'of' can indicate a multiplication problem."
That really set her off.
Moving on to English, a subject I know absolutely nothing about: My daughter had to correct sentences with grammar and punctuation errors. The sentence read something like, "Claire, Rachel, and Sam came with i to the store."
"The word, 'i,' is incorrect," I said.
"No, it's not. It just needs to be capitalized."
I shook my head. "The correct word should be, 'me.'"
"You're wrong, Mom."
"Fine," I said. "Just leave it the way it is if you think it's right. What do I know?"
She left it the way it was.
(It's going to be very hard to resist saying, "I told you so," when she comes back with it marked wrong!)
"Mom, can you help me with my homework?" she asked.
"Sure," I said. "What do you have?"
She showed me her math problems. The question was, "Is 12 1/2% of 800 greater then 25% of 400?" I immediately knew that they were equal, and tried to explain this to my daughter.
"25% is the same as 1/4. If you divide 400 by 4, the answer is 100. 12 1/2 percent is half of 25%, which is the same as 1/8. If you divide 800 by 8, the answer is 100."
She looked at me like I had rocks in my head. "Mom, you don't know what you're talking about."
"Okay," I said. "You can also multiply 800 by .125. That equals 100. If you multiply 400 by .25, that equals 100."
She gave me another look. "You're not supposed to multiply."
"Well, the word, 'of' can indicate a multiplication problem."
That really set her off.
Moving on to English, a subject I know absolutely nothing about: My daughter had to correct sentences with grammar and punctuation errors. The sentence read something like, "Claire, Rachel, and Sam came with i to the store."
"The word, 'i,' is incorrect," I said.
"No, it's not. It just needs to be capitalized."
I shook my head. "The correct word should be, 'me.'"
"You're wrong, Mom."
"Fine," I said. "Just leave it the way it is if you think it's right. What do I know?"
She left it the way it was.
(It's going to be very hard to resist saying, "I told you so," when she comes back with it marked wrong!)
November 27, 2012
Schultz vs. Sunshine
Usually you don't hear much about my parakeet, Sunshine, because all she does is sit on her stick and tweet. Well, today I have a little story about Sunshine, and my giant, one hundred pound German Shepherd, Schultz.
Schultz apparently decided that he wanted to play with Sunshine. He stuck his big snoot up to her cage and rattled the bars. Sunshine squawked at him.
"Schultz," I said. "You'd better watch it. Don't make Sunshine mad!"
He didn't listen. This time he lifted her door with his snoot. Sunshine didn't like that one bit. She jumped on the side of her cage and squawked some more.
Schultz thought that meant she wanted to play, so he knocked his nose against her cage. That was it. Sunshine wasn't going to take any more of his harrassment. She pecked his nose.
Schultz backed away, a little confused.
"See, Schultz. She doesn't want to play with you. Leave her alone."
Schultz didn't get it. The block head nudged her cage again. This time, Sunshine bit him hard on the nose. He yiped.
I shook my head. "You got what you deserved, Schultz. Next time, respect the lady!"
Schultz apparently decided that he wanted to play with Sunshine. He stuck his big snoot up to her cage and rattled the bars. Sunshine squawked at him.
"Schultz," I said. "You'd better watch it. Don't make Sunshine mad!"
He didn't listen. This time he lifted her door with his snoot. Sunshine didn't like that one bit. She jumped on the side of her cage and squawked some more.
Schultz thought that meant she wanted to play, so he knocked his nose against her cage. That was it. Sunshine wasn't going to take any more of his harrassment. She pecked his nose.
Schultz backed away, a little confused.
"See, Schultz. She doesn't want to play with you. Leave her alone."
Schultz didn't get it. The block head nudged her cage again. This time, Sunshine bit him hard on the nose. He yiped.
I shook my head. "You got what you deserved, Schultz. Next time, respect the lady!"
November 26, 2012
You've Got the Look Tag
How do you like the picture? I'd say the kid has the look! Which is exactly what Tamara at One Magic Bean Buyer thinks about me. (I resemble that kid, don't I?) Anyway, I've been tagged in the You've Got the Look Meme. The rules are, go to your current WIP, find the word, "look," and post the section which includes it, as well as the surrounding paragraphs. Then tag five other people to do the same.Here's my excerpt: Like I needed a reminder. So I gave Miss Smarty Pants the biggest, slobberyist raspberry I could. Then I grabbed my shovel and left her in the dust. I ran all the way to the woods, and I didn’t stop ‘til I got to the big tree. Mama calls it the sick more tree, but it doesn’t look too sick to me. It’s big and tall, and it has lots of leaves. Except its bark is all splotchy. So maybe that’s why it’s sick. But I think it looks cool.Anyway, Miss Smarty Pants followed me to the sick more tree. When I turned around, there she was, all huffy puffy.
“What took you so long?” I asked.
She made her eyebrows scrunchy. Then she pointed at my shovel. “So exactly how are you going to dig a hole to China with that?”
“It’s magic,” I said. “That’s exactly how.”
“Magic?”
I could tell she wasn’t believing it, because her eyelids got squinty. “Isn’t that the shovel Grandpa Joe bought at the garage sale?” she asked.
I had to explain it to her. “Yeah,” I said. “The old lady he got it from said it was magic, and if you don’t believe me, ask Grandpa.”And now for the five tagged bloggers:
1. Carolyn Brown
2. Lexa Cain
3. Stina Lindenblatt
4. Livia
5. PK Hrezo
Thanks, Tamara, for the opportunity to share a little of my work. Be sure to check out the other excellent tagged bloggers!
November 25, 2012
Dead Sea Squirrels
There's an exhibit at the Cincinnati Museum Center of the Dead Sea Scrolls. I saw them in person when I went to Israel a few years ago, but my kids didn't. I thought it might be a good educational experience to drag my kids to see them.
"You're taking us where?" Bubba asked. "To see dead sea squirrels?"
"No, Bubba. Scrolls," I said.
"Squirrels?"
"Never mind, Bubba," I said. "Just come on. You'll see what they are when we get there."
When we got to the exhibit, Bubba walked up to the ancient documents. He studied them with a puzzled look on his face. "Mama, I don't see any squirrels here. Just a bunch of old paper with weird scribble on them."
"These are the Dead Sea Scrolls," I explained.
"But Mama, where are the squirrels?"
"Next door, in the Natural History Museum," I said.
(Of course then we had to go to the Natural History Museum to look for dead sea squirrels. We didn't find any, but we did find a Jefferson Ground Sloth which was the next best thing!)
"You're taking us where?" Bubba asked. "To see dead sea squirrels?"
"No, Bubba. Scrolls," I said.
"Squirrels?"
"Never mind, Bubba," I said. "Just come on. You'll see what they are when we get there."
When we got to the exhibit, Bubba walked up to the ancient documents. He studied them with a puzzled look on his face. "Mama, I don't see any squirrels here. Just a bunch of old paper with weird scribble on them."
"These are the Dead Sea Scrolls," I explained.
"But Mama, where are the squirrels?"
"Next door, in the Natural History Museum," I said.
(Of course then we had to go to the Natural History Museum to look for dead sea squirrels. We didn't find any, but we did find a Jefferson Ground Sloth which was the next best thing!)
November 24, 2012
Dream Vacation
Before I tell you about Bubba's dream vacation, I have to tell you about something weird that happened to me today. I went to the automatic car wash and pulled my car into the garage bay. It was cold outside, so the bay doors closed behind me. The car wash was uneventful, but when it was finished, and the sign that said, "drive ahead," came on, the door would not open. I sat there for a minute, waiting. Still it wouldn't open. I got out of my car to assess the situation. The door could not be lifted manually, but I found an emergency open button. I pressed it, but it didn't work. This isn't good, I thought. Of course, nobody else was around. I was all alone. I wandered around the garage until I found another emergency open button. This had better work, I thought. It did. The back door opened. I put my car in reverse and got the heck out of there.
And do you know what the weird thing was? When I had first pulled into that garage and the doors closed, a thought popped into my head that I was going to get stuck in there. How's that for a premonition? Total craziness!
Okay. Now for the story. My husband and I took the kids to get passports. (This was an epic adventure, too, because the clerk's pen blew up and got ink all over the paperwork and my son's birth certificate.)
While the paperwork was being completed, another clerk started talking to my boy. "Where are you going on vacation?" she asked.
"Nowhere," he said.
The lady looked puzzled. "Then why are you getting passports?"
"In case we go to Alaska," he answered.
I laughed. "Dude, you don't need a passport to go to Alaska. That's still the United States."
The clerk smiled. "Where would you like to go?" she asked.
He thought about that. "Madagascar," he answered.
"Why Madagascar?" asked the lady.
"Because I want to ride elephants and llamas."
And do you know what the weird thing was? When I had first pulled into that garage and the doors closed, a thought popped into my head that I was going to get stuck in there. How's that for a premonition? Total craziness!
Okay. Now for the story. My husband and I took the kids to get passports. (This was an epic adventure, too, because the clerk's pen blew up and got ink all over the paperwork and my son's birth certificate.)
While the paperwork was being completed, another clerk started talking to my boy. "Where are you going on vacation?" she asked.
"Nowhere," he said.
The lady looked puzzled. "Then why are you getting passports?"
"In case we go to Alaska," he answered.
I laughed. "Dude, you don't need a passport to go to Alaska. That's still the United States."
The clerk smiled. "Where would you like to go?" she asked.
He thought about that. "Madagascar," he answered.
"Why Madagascar?" asked the lady.
"Because I want to ride elephants and llamas."
November 23, 2012
The Whipped Cream Incident
I hope all of you who celebrated Thanksgiving had a great time yesterday. We did. There were no fires this year. That was a good thing. But there was a whipped cream incident. Let me tell you about it.
After dinner, it was time for pumpkin pie. My father-in-law decided to eat his piece in the family room while watching the football game. Big mistake. My son plopped down right next to him. As he did, the whipped cream-covered pie fell off the plate and landed on my father-in-law's belly. Not at all ruffled by this, my father-in-law put the pie back on the plate and finished eating it. "What's a little whipped cream on the shirt?" he said.
Apparently my husband and brother-in-law thought that whipped cream on the shirt looked quite fashionable. Do you know what they did? They grabbed two cans of Reddi Wip and started chasing each other around the house. My husband managed to spray the front of my brother-in-law's shirt. My brother-in-law sprayed my husband's arms. Then the kids and dog got involved. Around and around they went chasing each other, laughing, screaming, and spraying each other with Reddi Wip.
Did I mention they were wearing turkey hats, too? Yep. It was a sight. Grown men over forty, running around the house, wearing turkey hats, Reddi Wipping themselves. I don't think they'll ever grow up!
After dinner, it was time for pumpkin pie. My father-in-law decided to eat his piece in the family room while watching the football game. Big mistake. My son plopped down right next to him. As he did, the whipped cream-covered pie fell off the plate and landed on my father-in-law's belly. Not at all ruffled by this, my father-in-law put the pie back on the plate and finished eating it. "What's a little whipped cream on the shirt?" he said.
Apparently my husband and brother-in-law thought that whipped cream on the shirt looked quite fashionable. Do you know what they did? They grabbed two cans of Reddi Wip and started chasing each other around the house. My husband managed to spray the front of my brother-in-law's shirt. My brother-in-law sprayed my husband's arms. Then the kids and dog got involved. Around and around they went chasing each other, laughing, screaming, and spraying each other with Reddi Wip.
Did I mention they were wearing turkey hats, too? Yep. It was a sight. Grown men over forty, running around the house, wearing turkey hats, Reddi Wipping themselves. I don't think they'll ever grow up!
November 21, 2012
Playing Fussball with My Boy
"Mama"" my eight-year-old son said. "Will you play fussball with me?"
I thought about all the things I had to do to get ready for Thanksgiving. Then I looked into my son's big blue eyes. I figured it wouldn't hurt to spend a little time with him. "All right," I said. "But only one game. I have a ton of stuff to do!"
We went down to the basement where the fussball table was and started playing. I scored immediately. I moved my score marker to one point...and so did my son.
"Hey," I said. "That was my point, not yours!"
He just grinned and set the ball back on the table. We continued playing. I scored again. And again he gave himself a point.
"Bubba, that's not how you play! "
"Yeah, it is Mama!"
I gave him one of my mom looks and continued playing. This time, he scored. He moved his point markers up two.
"Wait a minute," I said. "You don't get two points - only one!"
He giggled and set the ball right in front of my goal keeper. He whacked the ball in, and gave himself two more points.
"Bubba, what kind of game is this? You're cheating!"
"It's Bubba Fussball and Bubba never loses!"
(The relatives will be descending upon our house tonight, so I will be extremely busy cooking, cleaning, and entertaining. In case I am unable to post in the next few days, I want to wish all of you in the United States who celebrate Thanksgiving a very happy holiday! )
I thought about all the things I had to do to get ready for Thanksgiving. Then I looked into my son's big blue eyes. I figured it wouldn't hurt to spend a little time with him. "All right," I said. "But only one game. I have a ton of stuff to do!"
We went down to the basement where the fussball table was and started playing. I scored immediately. I moved my score marker to one point...and so did my son.
"Hey," I said. "That was my point, not yours!"
He just grinned and set the ball back on the table. We continued playing. I scored again. And again he gave himself a point.
"Bubba, that's not how you play! "
"Yeah, it is Mama!"
I gave him one of my mom looks and continued playing. This time, he scored. He moved his point markers up two.
"Wait a minute," I said. "You don't get two points - only one!"
He giggled and set the ball right in front of my goal keeper. He whacked the ball in, and gave himself two more points.
"Bubba, what kind of game is this? You're cheating!"
"It's Bubba Fussball and Bubba never loses!"
(The relatives will be descending upon our house tonight, so I will be extremely busy cooking, cleaning, and entertaining. In case I am unable to post in the next few days, I want to wish all of you in the United States who celebrate Thanksgiving a very happy holiday! )
