Merry Christmas!

Mele Kalikimaka?

It had been crazy whether in the southwest. Vegas got 6" of snow and apparently this was the worst storm since the 1930s. My mom sent me this picture from St. George. She loves snow and it seems it followed her south since she couldn't be up here with us!

You mean to tell me you've had those gloves this whole time? Yeah...we're in the rockies.

I'm Dreaming of A White Christmas....

I thought it might be a dry, sunny Christmas this year (yuck to me) but I've been so pleased it's been snowing since last Saturday afternoon.

With the Christmas season, comes many gifts and treats from neighbors.....

WARNING: this following story is shared with no intention to cause offense to any who own, love, or even like pets

I was raised to hate animals. I don't think this was an intentional training on my parent's, or I should say, my father's part, but naturally developed over time. Despite growing up raising pigeons and having a loyal dog, for some reason my Dad hates animals. I guess that may be a stretch because a bird laid her eggs in the wreath on my parent's front door this summer and everyone had to walk clear around to the back of the house so as to not disturb them. Everyone was banned from touching the front door for weeks to preserve some finches...so I guess it would be more accurate to say my dad hates domesticated animals--pets.

I remember as a kid, we obviously wanted a pet pretty bad but knew it would not fly with dad so my older sister and I took it upon ourselves to walk to Wal-mart and buy a feeder goldfish for 15 cents and hid it under Heather's bed. Needless to say, the fish died quickly and we were pet owners for only a short time.

When we would see animals dead on the side of the road growing up my Dad would always point them out and say something like: "oh look, the kitty decided to take a nap on the road." followed by everyone staring at the road kill and someone saying "it's not sleeping dad, it's dead!!" [Maybe this is the source of my obsession with always investigating the roadkill as thoroughly as I can during the short seconds as I drive by]
My dad would also always swerve toward cats, dogs, and even birds that were clearly out of the way as a joke. He'd usually get an exasperated: "Scott!" from my mom and giggles from us kids in the back. Why it was hilarious to us that Dad was jokingly endangering the lives of innocent creatures is beyond me, but I still smile at the thought of those occasions.

My Mom loves animals, especially dogs and has always made it known if my Dad ever dies she will be able to have a dog finally....and she will keep it in the house!

This is the greatest pet offense of all for my father, having a cat or dog in your house, which is where we get back to this story's intro--the neighbor treats.

A couple nights ago a neighbor gift was on the counter and he picked it up, excited to partake of the treats. Glancing at the gift tag, he suddenly lobbed the gift across the room into the trash as if his hand had been burned. "What was that about?" I asked. He wrinkled his face in disgust and said: "they have cats in the house." We all busted out laughing. I actually don't think this neighbor has cats in the house but just the suspicion was too much evidence for my dad, because having a cat or dog in the house inevitably means there is cat/dog hair in any food that leaves that house.

A phone call I had with my Dad right after I moved out off to college suddenly flew to my mind. One night my dad called me, which never happened as he hates to talk on the phone and my Mom at that point was still calling me every day. Here is our conversation back in 2003:

Me: Hello?

Dad: Jessica, I just want you to know if you have a dog in your house I will never visit you.

Me: What?

Dad: A dog. If you have a stinking dog rubbing his butt all over your carpet I will never come see you, no matter what your mom says.

Me: Dad what in the world are you talking about? I don't even have a dog.

Dad: I'm talking when you live on your own and grow up...I can't stand stinking dogs drooling in the house!

Me: Well I can promise you now I will never have a dog, let alone let a dog live in my house.

Dad: Good. I'm glad. Bye.

He hangs up on me.

I called my Mom back to ask what that was all about. She said they were watching TV and a commercial came on with a dog in the house and my Dad went off on how disgusting it was and my mom, to defend the issue said: "well Jessica, your favorite, will probably have a dog so you'll have to get used to the fact some people like them," or something like that. [To clarify, this summer my Dad announced Lynette is his favorite, so I don't know why I was the one to have the imaginary dog living with me to test my dad] Thus in defiance to me and anyone else who has an animal, whether real or fictional, my dad illustrated the necessity of our relationship dissolving, dare I ever chose to allow a "stinking dog" live in my house.

Caramel

We love making caramel for fall and Christmas. It is pretty easy and so delicious....not so healthy though

Caramel

3/4 c. butter (no substitute)

1 can sweetened condensed milk

1 can brown sugar

1 can white sugar

1 can light Karo syrup

1 tsp vanilla

In heavy bottom pan melt butter. Empty sweetened condensed milk into pan and use empty can to measure the sugars and karo syrup. Over medium heat, stirring constantly, bring mixture to a boil. Using candy thermometer continue cooking and stirring until caramel reaches 245-250 degrees. We use the cold water test which is described here, cooking until it is the firm ball stage.

Stir in vanilla and pour immediately into greased 9x13 for caramel eating. **After it is done cooking, stir as little as possible to avoid a grainy texture**

We made caramel pretzel sandwiches and let it cool about 10 minutes and spooned a glob of caramel on a pretzel and topping it with another pretzel. After these cooled, I flipped them over and drizzled chocolate on them, but I was too busy eating to take a picture of the finished product.

Dipping pretzel rods is also delish. To dip rods, I spray a tall glass mug with Pam and pour the caramel in the mug and dip the rods about 3/4 of the length of the pretzel. The mug handle makes it nice to tip the caramel once it gets low to get good coverage and you don't burn your hand.

We Love to be Home for the Holidays!

It has been two years since we've seen the lights on Temple Square!

INTRODUCING...

My little sister's etsy store.

Carrying on the sewing tradition from my mom

http://www.ladydanburry.etsy.com/

Check it out!

Poor Rhett & His "Condition"

Rhett is in his Obstetric/ Gynecology rotation this month. He was on call last night and tonight, and he just sleeps at the hospital in the physician's lounge. Sad not to seem him for 48+ hours, especially when he's just sleeping on the job anyway. Let me explain.

When I spoke with him briefly this afternoon and asked if he got any sleep last night he said: "Oh ya. I got plenty of sleep....but Dr. ____ was up all night."

Me: "what? What the crap were YOU doing?"

Rhett: "well, we went to sleep a while a lady was in labor. I knew we'd be getting up soon so I was in my scrubs and just laying on top of my bed. And all the sudden I woke up and it was 6am. So I got up and showered and was going to round on his patients, thinking, that lady is still in labor? What is going on? But I didn't want to wake Dr. ___up so I didn't knock on his door but saw him as he was coming in and asked him what was going on. He told me 4 hours earlier he'd opened my door and said: We've got that delivery. I apparently told him OK. So he ran up there and I never showed up.

Me: Ohhh, Rhett, didn't you tell him you talk in your sleep!

Rhett: I warned him! I told him--a couple of times-- that I sleep really deep so he needs to make sure I'm awake. He said I was talking to him, kind of insinuating that I was awake and just decided to not get out of bed last night. I told him how I have full conversations asleep and the marital strain it can cause and that tonight he should spray my face with water or get a fog horn...

Me: [thinking] even that may not work

Rhett: ...I have a slight memory of his head popping into my dream, but I guess it was his real head popping into my room to tell me to get to work. And then he was busy with other patients all night long, probably so mad at me sleeping away and never showing up while he was running all around.

Me: Well I guess it's good you don't want to be an OB and say goodbye to a good eval from him... maybe I can come testify for you, does he like cinnamon rolls?

Rhett: Well after I explained, he and all the nurses have been teasing me so hopefully it isn't totally over, but I told them I usually have 3 alarm clocks and a wife so they have to step it up a notch tonight. A quick pop-in just isn't enough if I'm asleep.

So hopefully they will drench him tonight. Maybe Rhett needs to find a specialty with zero potential to be on call---hmmm....derm? I wouldn't mind.

This reminded me of the time I've never been more upset with my husband.

We'd been married a little over two years and were living in ghetto salt lake city. Rhett at the time worked nights 7on and 7 off. I was preparing to leave for the weekend to go to St. George with my girl friends and accidentally locked myself out of the house. We were renting an old duplex with no air conditioning so all summer we slept in the unfinished basement with the windows open. It was probably 10 am-ish and after locking myself out of the house, I ran into the back yard to the open window. Rhett got home from work at 7am so by this time he was in his deep coma-like sleep. I yelled his name for a long time. He didn't even stir. I increased the volume of my voice. I was now screaming "Rhett! Rhett! Wake up!" Nothing. At this point it seemed like I'd been yelling for 5 minutes. Volume wasn't helping so I veered into panic/ save my life mode thinking the valiant noble husband would rouse to save a pitiful wife in need.

"Rhett help me! I need your help! Rhett! You need to get them! Ouch! HELP me! PLEASE! I beg you! Rhett! Help me!" I shouted as loud as I could for a long while. I was nervous the all the near-living neighbors would hear me and call the cops hearing all this shouting and potential violence.

I think he may have rolled onto his other side at this point.

I was ticked. I kept screaming and he finally lazily opened his eyes to see me crouched in the window. "Rhett. GO OPEN THE FRONT DOOR."

Slowly blinking, Rhett stares in my direction. He gets up and walks over to the window.

"Rhett. I am so mad. Get up and go open the front door!!"

He says OK, turns, and starts walking toward the stairs. Finally! I run around the house to the front door. I wait a couple of seconds....I ring the doorbell.

Nothing.

You've got to be kidding me!!! I ring the doorbell at least 20 times in quick succession followed by a good pounding on the front door, screaming "Rhett!!" I kicked the door to finalize my fury and ran all the way around to the back again. There he was, but now he was snuggled with a blanket up around his head.

I was so mad I was shaking. After all my screaming and fake trauma, he stood up and got himself a blanket rather than going to open the door. I decided it was worth buying a new screen and I kicked it in and somehow fit my large frame through the slit-like window, mumbling mean spirited remarks rather loudly the whole time. I just left for my trip and didn't say goodbye.

Later that day I recounted the whole story to Rhett on the phone. How I couldn't believe he could sleep through a person screaming his name for eons, let alone his wife screaming for help. I remember telling him someone would come in and kill me in the bed next to him one night and he wouldn't wake up.

He chuckled as I retold my rant and said: "You must have been the cow in my dream."

What are you talking about? I asked.

"I was having this dream and this cow kept mooing...it was so annoying. I remember getting up and walking to the window and the mooing stopped. I remember not knowing why I got up and figured I needed a blanket so I got one and went back to sleep. I guess you were the cow....Rrrhheeeeeeeeeettttttttttttt! Rrrhheeeeeeeettttt! It kind of sounds like mooing when you hold it out like that."

I laughed and said I felt like a cow squishing through that little window.

Needless to say, I can definitely empathize with Dr. ____ at how frustrating it is to have a conversation with someone and expect their help only to find them snuggled up asleep the whole time.

Actually, maybe Dr. ___ was glad so he didn't have a student to slow him down and Rhett will *accidentally sleep through the wake up call again tonight.

Kid Friendly Terminology for Privates

A friend is a child psychologist and needed to translate a paper into English (not their native language) and asked me what words small children use to refer to female anatomy. I was stumped. He said, I know boys use "pee pee" but I can't remember from the year I was in the states what little girls said.

I didn't know. I'd always planned to use the correct terms with my kids: elbow, nose, penis, knee, vagina, eye, etc.

I called my sister and she said her four-year-old calls all privates "bum" so no help. Finally yahoo answers solved the question. There were a lot of odd suggestions, but "wee wee" for girls seemed to be the most common term.

But it is a pet peeve of mine to refer to body parts with fake nonsense words. Until today I didn't think it would be necessary to use these pee pee wee wee words as a parent. But maybe I'm the idiot. In my health professional mind, no big deal for kids to know and use the correct anatomical terminology. But then I don't want my kids to end up being the kid on Kindergarten Cop--you know, the son of a gynecologist.

So experienced moms, can you get by teaching your kids the correct terms without embarrassment? From reading peoples' answers on Yahoo Answers, there are far more embarrassing terms people are teaching their kids than "vagina".

Is this post TMI? Maybe it will be a temporary post.

DHS Football

We are in the midst of the State High School Football Playoffs. Saturday was the first round for 3A and we were able to go: Delta vs. Union. Delta won by a large margin so the game was not that exciting, although there was a 60+ yard kickoff by Delta which was impressive.

The highlight of the afternoon was our freshman niece, Tana. She dressed up as the mascot, the Delta Rabbit, for the latter half of the game. Here she is putting out the vibe.

Halloween

We spent Halloween with Rhett's family and had a fun time...I ate a lot of the niece's candy and we stayed up late.










West of Delta, in Hinkley there is an abandoned Girls Academy that they made into a Haunted House. Two of Rhett's sisters went with Rhett and I hoping to be scared. I have to admit when we drove up and I saw the condemned building it seemed creepy. But the scare crew wasn't having their best performance on our turn through. Overall it was fun and pretty good for little Hinkley, UT.

Baby Rhett's first Halloween

Happy Halloween

My First Day in Hell
by Jack Handey

Published October 30, 2006 in New Yorker Magazine

My first day in Hell is drawing to a close. They don’t really have a sunset here, but the fires seem to dim a bit, and the screaming gets more subdued. Most of the demons are asleep now, their pointy tails curled up around them. They look so innocent, it’s hard to believe that just a few hours ago they were raping and torturing us.

The day started off at a party at the Chelsea Hotel, where some friends were daring me to do something. The next thing I knew, I was in Hell. At first, it seemed like a dream, but then I remembered that five-Martini dreams are usually a lot worse.

There’s a kind of customs station when you arrive here, where a skeleton in a black robe checks a big book to make sure your name’s there. And as he slowly scans the pages with his bony finger you can’t help thinking, Why does a skeleton need a robe? Especially since it’s so hot. That’s the first thing you notice about Hell, how hot it is. I know it’s a cliché, but it’s true. Fortunately, it’s a steamy, sulfury kind of hot. Like a spa or something.

You might think that people in Hell are all nude. But that’s a myth. You wear what you were last wearing on earth. For instance, I am dressed like the German U-boat captain in the movie “Das Boot,” because that’s what I wore to the party. It’s an easy costume, because all you really need is the hat. The bad part is, people are always asking you who you are, even in Hell. Come on! “Das Boot”!

The food here turns out to be surprisingly good. The trouble is, just about all of it is poisoned. So a few minutes after you finish eating you’re doubled over in agony. The weird thing is, as soon as you recover you’re ready to dig in all over again.

Despite the tasty food and warm weather, there’s a dark side to Hell. For one thing, it’s totally disorganized. That anything gets done down here is a miracle. You’ll be herded along in one big line, then it’ll separate into three lines, then the lines will all come back together again! For no apparent reason! It’s crazy. You try to ask a demon a question, but he just looks at you. I don’t mean to sound prejudiced, but you wonder if they even speak English.

To relieve the boredom, you can throw rocks at other people in line. They just think it was a demon. But I discovered the hard way that the demons don’t like it when they’re beating someone and you join in.

It’s odd, but Hell can be a lonely place, even with so many people around. They all seem caught up in their own little worlds, running to and fro, wailing and tearing at their hair. You try to make conversation, but you can tell they’re not listening.

A malaise set in within a couple hours of my arriving. I thought getting a job might help. It turns out I have a lot of relatives in Hell, and, using connections, I became the assistant to a demon who pulls people’s teeth out. It wasn’t actually a job, more of an internship. But I was eager. And at first it was kind of interesting. After a while, though, you start asking yourself: Is this what I came to Hell for, to hand different kinds of pliers to a demon? I started wondering if I should even have come to Hell at all. Maybe I should have lived my life differently, and gone to Heaven instead.

I decided I had to get away—the endless lines, the senseless whipping, the forced sing-alongs. You get tired of trying to explain that you’ve already been branded, or that something that big won’t fit in your ear, even with a hammer. I wandered off. I needed some me time. I came to a cave and went inside. Maybe I would find a place to meditate, or some gold nuggets.
That’s when it happened, one of those moments which could only happen in Hell. I saw Satan. Some people have been in Hell for hundreds of years and have never seen Satan, but there he was: he was shorter than I thought he’d be, but he looked pretty good. He was standing on a big rock with his reading glasses on. I think he was practicing a speech. “Hey, Satan,” I yelled out, “how’s it going?” I was immediately set upon by demons. I can’t begin to describe the tortures they inflicted on me, because apparently they are trade secrets. Suffice it to say that, even as you endure all the pain, you find yourself thinking, Wow, how did they think of that?
My stitches are a little itchy, but at least the demons sewed most of my parts back on. More important, my faith in Hell as an exciting place where anything can happen has been restored.
I had better get some rest. They say the bees will be out soon and that it’s hard to sleep with the constant stinging. I lost my internship, but I was told I can reapply in a hundred years. Meanwhile, I’ve been assigned to a construction crew. Tomorrow we’re supposed to build a huge monolith, then take picks and shovels and tear it down, then beat each other to death. It sounds pointless to me, but what do I know. I’m new here. ♦

You want more Jack?

THRILLER

Last weekend, Rhett's sisters and their daughters and RJ and I went to St. George for a girl's weekend and to see Odyssey Dance Theatre's Production of Thriller at the Tuachan amphitheatre.

We had a blast. After watching Michael Jackson's Thriller video all morning, the mom's went shopping and I stayed home with the nieces. They wanted to swim. It was really nice weather, but the pool had not been heated for weeks and the water was cold. But when you are 10 years old, what is freezing cold water when you have the opportunity to swim all day long?

I was taking pictures and after enough harassment, jumped in also. I swam for the first half of the day with them, but I guess I'm lame because after we ate our lunch of dino-shaped chicken nuggets, I just couldn't get back in. When I'd get out, it would feel so warm in the air, I stayed out. When I announced I was done swimming for the day, Brinley (7) said: "Jess, I think the water is warmer now." I dipped my hand in and said it felt about the same to me. "Well, you gotta feel it with your foot." I laughed and she dove in.

We made homemade caramel and dipped a bunch of apples and pretzel rods. That was fun. By this time Rhett's sisters came back from shopping and my Mom came home from work and we headed off to Snow Canyon.

The girls were afraid of the zombies that walk around prior to the performance and at intermission. We took a picture with one, and then Brooklyn felt brave enough to get a picture alone with a zombie. The show was great, with the headless horseman on stage with a live horse and a flying fire pumpkin ball being new to me since I saw it 3 years ago. I always love the black lit skeletons that tap dance and the Bride of Frankenstein. My favorite, has to be, however, the Sugar Plum Fairy being shot dead by Jason.

Cheap Prescription Glasses

Rhett needed new glasses and we were excited when we heard about this website: www.ZenniOptical.com

You can get glasses for $8.00. We just went to Costco for the eye exam to get a prescription and we've saved a lot of money and he was able to get a couple pairs. If you are prone to break, lose, or scratch your glasses, (like us) this is a great website.

The last ones had much bigger lenses than he thought. He calls them his "grandpa glasses"

Creepy Crapo Family Halloween Dinner

The last few years, I've always hosted a Halloween Dinner. The first year was specifically for Lynette's 18th birthday where we made the creepy meal and then took her to Thriller, by Odyssey Dance Theatre, and it became a tradition. The food is supposed to be creepy and we eat in the near dark by candle light. The two things that are staples are the troll toe bread sticks and dry ice brew beverage.

This year it was HIGHLY recommended you dress up, but not everyone did. My older brother James was great as Richie Tenenbaum from the movie The Royal Tenenbaums. I was Sleeping Beauty (my crown got damaged in storage and is bent funny) and RJ was Gus Gus the fat mouse from Cinderella. My Mom came up from St. George for the weekend and at the last minute found a robe with a rope for a belt and called herself Friar Tuck, keeping with the Disney theme I guess. Herschel said he would totally dress up, and I should make him a Kermit the Frog costume, where his face in the hood is coming out of the frog's mouth. It was enough for me to sew RJ's white trash costume and I didn't get around to a 6' 3" frog jump suit so he ended up not dressing up at all, but you can see his head poking out from behind the picture of James and I.

In the end, it was a lot of fun and I wish my sisters had been around for it.

MENU
Creepy Crapo Dinner
October 19, 2008

Appetizer:
Caterpillars wrapped in bloody bandages and marinated in dragon’s blood
lil smokey's wrapped in bacon recipe

Beverage:
Chilled werewolf saliva with a hint of beetle powder

Real apple cider (opaque and brown in the plastic jug) mixed with ginger ale, and dry ice for brew effect

Entrée:
Succulent mammoth flat-worms in a vampire puss sauce dotted with bat scabs beside a bed of aged compost topped with witch’s finger nails and ghoul claws in addition to classic troll toes.

Fettuccine pasta that Rhett made from scratch with bacon and sun-dried tomatoes in the sauce, bed of salad, and our favorite...the troll toe bread sticks. Add green food coloring when you make the dough. Add an almond for a toe nail and grated Parmesan for hair...too gross to eat? They are delicious and like I told Herschel, get over it. This one I used as an example is kind of too short and too fat, the good ones are wider in the middle to look like a knuckle, and the almond is closer to the top. I don't know why I chose a crappy toe as the example, sorry.

Dessert:
Bat droppings cake topped with mummy ooze

Poppy seed cake with cream cheese frosting. My intent was to reserve some frosting at the end and add red food coloring and thin it down to more of a glaze. I wanted it to drip down the sides of the cake like blood or something, but it wasn't thin enough, so I had a white cake with a ring of red frosting. Rhett and I were staring at it and he suggested I crumble Oreos along the base for dirt and say it's a guy with his head in the ground and they cut his head off, so that's why the blood doesn't drip, because his head is upside down in the dirt. Despite this detailed description, I ended up just throwing some gummy worms on there to call it scary enough...but man, what a disappointing dessert for the big Halloween dinner. I should have added the red food coloring to corn syrup and just plopped that on, that would have definitely dripped.

Anyway, you still have a while to plan/host a fun Halloween Dinner! I'm sure you can find more and probably better creepy food ideas than mine, my friend Kassie recommended bread bowls that were spiders...maybe next year.