And Then My Entire Family Was Nearly Killed By a Possessed Chicken Bone

I let my family cook for me. I am very generous that way. Also, we all know how often I cook. Have you seen my cooking blog?

So I come home from my parents' house every week with various freezer containers full of the usuals - Mom's chicken noodle soup, Mom's potato soup, Mom's spaghetti. Occasionally I will get things from other family members too such as Dad's pea soup, Dad's chili, Dad's stew that I thought was spaghetti sauce because it wasn't labeled that turned out to be a wonderful surprise.  Then I also get my brother's take on things that typically includes chicken soup with too much dill. Although the last one he sent had a note taped to it that said "Less dill. More love." Awww. He's single, ladies.

The other day I went searching for something to eat when B disappointingly ignored my SOS text about dinner and ATE WITHOUT ME.  I grabbed a contained marked "Soup for Lonnie" and remembered my Mom sent me chicken soup she had made up for someone else that never got to pick it up. Then I defrosted it, warmed it and ate it.

Then I almost died.

Contained in the soup was a chicken bone. A large one actually, which is how I found it in my mouth.*  I removed it, threw it in the trash, and sent my Mom an email entitled "Were you trying to kill Lonnie?"  She responded by asking me if I was okay, going on to ask if the bone gave it extra flavor, and then blaming my brother. He's still single, ladies.

Fast forward two days later and as I am walking through the kitchen I notice something in Jersey's mouth, I make her give it to me and it is THAT DAMN CHICKEN BONE! What the heck? I KNOW I threw that thing out.  Another email to my mother insisting she was trying to kill my entire family resulted in this response:

Good grief! Is that chicken bone possessed? Put it in a plastic bag and bring it to my house so I can get rid of that devil!

I am not sure what good putting it in a plastic bag would have done. It just gives me visions of Jersey with a plastic bag with a chicken bone in it hanging out of her mouth. I am also not sure what a proper disposal is.  Kind of scared to ask, actually.

I decided not to pass on the possessed chicken bone to another house for the fear that everyone would soon find it in their mouths, or their dog's mouth, or their fish's mouth. Definitely not their chicken's mouths though, people. They are not cannibals!

Only one possession per family, please.

On a side note, after I sent my Mom this blog post about a staple in Jorge's dog's stomach, my Mom sent the me the following email:

See, you could have blogged and showed the chicken bone in Jersey's tummy and made her a star. But, no....you take it away from her and call ME an attempted murderess.

My family has its priorities you know.

*My Mom is a good cook and she never ever has bones in her soup. This was a freak accident.**

**Ditto my brother. Feel free to snap him up, ladies.

Slipping, Sliding and Spinning Our Way Into Christmas

Christmas has come and gone. It seems like it went by so fast after all of the planning. A lot of fun was had. For a short recap of Christmas Eve and a picture of B with a German candle thing, go here.

Christmas morning looked like this:

On the table are the gifts we had for each other and, in some cases, from the cats. Yes Brad loved me enough to get me the complete Sex and The City DVD Series and Chester and Mooch knew how much I wanted the first season of True Blood. Man, I love those cats!

You will also notice that Santa brought B his very own stocking. And it was even filled with stuff:

This pictures shows all of the gifts that we had to load into the truck to take to both our parents' house. And that is Brad making a special guest appearance:

Brad also wanted to participate in the gift opening, mainly by chewing on the paper. I wish I had a video camera for that:

B was very surprised and happy with my gift to him of a widescreen computer monitor. Maybe I should have stuck to his list and given him a big box of socks and underwear.*

At B's sister's house, we heard the story of the famous Zhu Zhu pets and how there are all of these warnings not to put them in your hair because it will get all tangled. B wanted to see what the allure was:

Over at my parents' house, they finally got to meet Jersey. My brother loved her:

And she loved him right back:

All of the gifts at my parents' house were set underneath the reindeer. The deer, as you can see, was taken from a carousel. How cool is that?

My Dad decorated the mantle with garland, lights and a nativity scene:

I love the glowy picture!

Other things that made Christmas eventful:

• On the way to our first stop, I was driving as B was holding Jersey, when the car next to us started hydroplaning because of the rain, spun around right in front of us across three lanes of traffic, hit the guardrail, went UP the guardrail, and luckily did not flip over. We pulled over and waited with them until EMS and their parents arrived. Luckily they were not hurt, but quite shocked and shaken. I was petrified because we came awfully close to hitting them. Thank God I didn't hit my brakes.
• We got my nephew a tricycle for Christmas and as soon as he opened he, he yelled "BIKE" and tried to ride it around. He toppled over twice.
• My nephew also flew off a sit and spin. Those things are dangerous!
• My nephew also got toppled by Jersey which he thought was fun until she tried to nip at him. Now he is not a fan.
• My nephew demonstrated his ability to slide down feet first and head first into his ball pit.
• Jersey was on her best behavior at my parents' house. Of course, that is because she spent the entire time in the kitchen waiting to be fed.
• I got lots of great presents, including Vicky.**
• We had a wonderful day with both of our families and our little ones.

Hope your Christmas was just as wonderful!

*He seriously put socks and underwear on his Christmas list. He also seriously thought the box was filled with socks and underwear. I had to stop him from throwing it around. A shattered monitor makes for a sad Dani.

**More on this wonderful lady later.

Crime Watch Wednesday: Some Like It Hot

This week's crime watch chronicles highlights our town's finest performing their duties for this town's dumbest:

Police were called for a possible LOS. (That's Left On Stove for all of you non-policemen out there). A woman on her way home from the bar called to say she thought she might have left the stove on and wanted the police to check it out. Despite the insanity of her request and despite the fact that HOURS had passed since she left the stove on, the police responded to the call. An officer was dispatched to the home. Upon an inspection through a window, and having seen (a) the house still standing, and (b) no smoke or flames, the officer CALLED the lady back and gave her the update.

You see, I don't believe this was part of the "Getting to Know Your Neighborhood" package we received when we first moved in. How was I supposed to know that you could contact the police to check to see if you left your stove on? Or that the police would kindly call you back while you are on your way back from the bar so you wouldn't have to fret and could concentrate on attempting to drive sober although you are really wasted. The police better hope we do not have a large closed head/traumatic brain injury population or they will never have a moment's peace. They are known for leaving stoves on left and right.*

Speaking of which, I could have used their assistance on more than one occasion recently, the police that is. If you will recall, the stove that came with our house is from 1952 - the Ropermatic. It is a gas stove with a gas leak. We only just recently replaced it. Safety first, people! Or, in our case, like fourteenth. Anyway, before replacing it, there was quite the procedure to ensure we were not being infused with noxious gas on a regular basis. First, the gas had to be turned off after every use. The routine would be turn gas on, light the burner (Yes you had to manually light it! Hello - it is 1952 in our kitchen! You also had to wear an apron and heels. B looked so cute). When you were done you were supposed to turn the gas off first so that you could see all the flame went out before you turned off the burner, thus making sure no extra gas escaped. Sound easy? Maybe it was, but really not the point. There has been more than one occasion in which I did not comply with said rules.

One day B came home and asked me to come downstairs. I was super excited thinking he had brought me a present. For being wonderful, you know.

B: Come down here.

Me: YAY! Presents {insert clapping}

B: What? Just come down here.

Me: Well, I don't like the tone your voice has taken.

Upon arriving downstairs:

B: Notice anything unusual around here?

Me: {looking around} Well, I don't see any presents, that's for sure!

B: Why would there be presents?

Me: The real question is why AREN'T there presents?

B: DO YOU SEE ANYTHING UNUSUAL AROUND HERE?????

Me: no.

B: Really? NOTHING?

Me: um, NO.

Apparently I was completely oblivious to the burner that was STILL BURNING on the stove. Flames and everything.** I told B it had only been on for 5 minutes, but really it was 15. I am sure B thinks it was 30.

Do you think the police would come if I called them from upstairs to see if the stove was on?

"The call is coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE"***

*I may have a brain injury.

**Then there was the time I just left the gas on but turned off the burner. B accused me of trying to kill him. Good thing he doesn't smoke...

***Can you name that scary movie during this Halloween week?

****I write about fire a lot, don't I?

I Am a Vampire

No, this is not a Twilight related post. In fact, I have yet to read the book despite my love of all things vampire. I know. I am a traitor. But soon I will rectify that situation.

As for this post? It is about my stellar cooking skills of course.  And yet another roast.  Last Family Dinner Day I decided to make a less "slimy" roast for B. Anything to make that boy happy.  I found a 3 envelope pot roast crockpot recipe and set about making it.  The envelopes were Italian dressing, ranch dressing and peppercorn garlic.  That was my first clue this dinner would be wrong.  I chose to ignore that sign.  I kept the ingredients a secret from B because I did not want him to know I was putting anything remotely related to ranch or "dressing" in his food. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, right? Indeed I went to great lengths to hide this, so even when we were at his parents house that day and his mom asked me what I was using I managed to vaguely say "ingredients" of "different kinds."  Sure, I sounded like an idiot and sure, B looked at me like he was catching on, but it was a small price to pay to get a good meal in that boy's belly.

So, B and I did a lot of running that day, looking at more houses.  I wanted to be back by 4 to put the vegetables in, but we didn't make it back until 5.  I open the crockpot to dump the vegetables in when, for some unknown reason, I decide the pot roast must be "flipped over". Why I decided this, I have no clue. I had not done that the previous two times I cooked it. The recipe didn't call for it.  I just decided it was a good idea.  It was not.  The pot roast, after having been cooking for 4 hours was very tender.  It fell apart on my spear thingy* and plopped back down into all the gravy which then splashed up on  my face.

Quickly I realized I COULD HAVE BURNED MY FACE so I madly wiped off my face and checked a mirror.  All was good.  Vegetables in.  Cooking continued. As for me, I decided to shower.  While in the shower this little spot over my lip and the inside of my entire right nostril starts burning like crazy. I try rinsing and washing to no avail.  I am showering and thinking that my face is burning off or something and cursing the time (about five minutes ago) I decided it would be a good idea to flip that roast.  My face was not melting and was not burning off.  Apparently some of the peppercorn garlic spice just got in there really good in the Great Splash of five minutes ago and my skin was not liking it.  That was my second clue that this dinner was going to be wrong.  I chose to ignore that as well.  All was good. Cooking continued.  I passed B in the hall and said "I burned my face with the roast." He scanned me over, decided it did not entail another hospital trip and said "huh" nonchalantly.  He must be used to my mishaps.

Dinner was done and served and we had settled in to watch the last Dexter episode on our current DVD.  I put a piece of roast in my mouth and discovery MY MOUTH WAS ON FIRE.  Those spices were so strong I nearly died.  I started waving my hand in front of my mouth and saying AHHHH.  I actually think I then spit my half chewed meat on to my plate to which B said "gross."   We then had the following exchange:

Me gesturing wildly:  Is this HOT to you?

B: No

Me: Seriously? My mouth is ON FIRE!

Me: I cannot believe you do not find this hot.

B: The potatoes are kind of hot.

Me: Not the meat? Really?

B: I don't know.

Me: Oh, you would know.  MY MOUTH IS ON FIRE

I proceeded to finish the meal with about three glasses of tea and afterward cooled my tongue with some M&Ms.  In my head I declared that I would never be making that meal again.  All was well. We went on with our night.

In the middle of the night, I woke up and realized I could SMELL peppercorn garlic. It was everywhere, coming out of our pores as we slept. So disgusting! I had to turn off the bedroom ceiling fan because I believed it was just circulating that bad smell.  

Moral of the story - (a) peppercorn garlic is NOT good, (b) I may be a vampire, (c) B is immune to strong spices, and (d) I am still not a good cook.

No worries though. My bro gave me some ideas for spices and such for the next pot roast.**  He got to hear this story yesterday "live" as he called it.  

*That's a technical term for the two prong thingy that I pulled out of our knife block.

**Yes, I will not be deterred from making pot roast. It will turn out good and acceptable to both parties one day  and Hi bro!