Thursday, January 31, 2008

iced over

After a one hour torture session (AKA physical therapy), I lay down on a table with an ice pack while electrodes pump little shocks of energy through my shoulder.

Typically I get really bored, so I had a little fun with the cell phone camera:

stick it in your eye

I woke up this morning with a huge, swollen right eye.

Awesome. I'll spare you any freaky pictures.

My eye was totally bugging me last night. I even wore my glasses to the U basketball game. Then when I woke up I could barely open my right eye.

Needless to say, I'm not going to work today. Luckily the Legislature live streams it's meetings and debates on the Internet.

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

go utes?

My friends in the University of Utah 5th Stake are trying to convert me into a Utah fan.

Exhibit A:

Heather Olmstead. Esteemed assistant volleyball coach of the Utes. She brings free tickets and 7-11 hot chocolate. How can I resist?

Exhibit B: the fight song

It's such a catchy tune!

Never fear, Cougar fans. I will always be a BYU fan at heart. Can't I just cheer for our neighbors to the North sometimes?

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

cheer camp

Elissa took us on a trip to cheer camp Monday night at our Jazz/Spurs game party.

Sadly, she didn't bring the spirit stick.

Monday, January 28, 2008

happy birthday amos

Happy birthday Amos!

This month is such a special one, it's birthday time for you!

I'd really like to celebrate your happy day with you (but you freakin' live in Denmark)

Zip-a-dee-ay and heigh-dee-ho, here's something we can do (heck ya, Disneyworld, BABY)

We'll sing a song that we all know, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!

For all of you who don't know, Amy is my big sister (ten years older to be exact). She lives far far away and I don't see her often enough. So in my cheap way, so I can avoid international dialing fees, I'm blogging my birthday message!

In addition to many other life lessons, Amy taught me that life truly is a beach.

Happy birthday Amy, I love you!


I'm still in shock over the news of President Hinckley's death. He's been a spiritual giant my entire life. He was first called the First Presidency of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1981, the year I was born. I was just a freshman in high school when he was sustained as prophet.

Yes, I know life will go on, a new prophet will take the reins, and the church will continue to be true, but I can't help but be a little said President Hinckley is gone.

I'll never forget the feeling that came over me that first time I went to general conference in the conference center. The room was noisy, as everyone was chatting with their neighbors. Then, all of a sudden it felt like the spirit came in a slapped me with silence. The whole entire conference center of 25,000 plus, fell silent, as the prophet walked in. That's power. Most of us couldn't even see him there, but we could feel his presence.

He slowly walked in, paused and then gleefully raised his cane and flashed a smile. I won't ever forget that feeling.

Luckily I was able to be a part of the coverage of President Hinckley's death. Yes, my sister might be from Oregon, but Betsy Batman made it in the Salt Lake City newspaper today. I interviewed her and wrote a little ditty about how her ward found out about our beloved prophet's passing. She's in the story titled "World Mourns Beloved Leader." Her comments are at the end of the article (you can find it below. Just click on it to make it bigger).

Wednesday, January 23, 2008


Apparently, I'm in rehab, folks.

My fine superiors at work announced to the upper-level staff that I couldn't write a story today because I was at rehab. One even tried to make a lame Amy Winehouse joke (they tried to make Leigh go to rehab, and she said no, no, no).

Just call me the next train wreck.

In reality, I'm just in physical therapy. And can I tell you how fun that was today. Today was probably the worst pain I've felt so far in those torture sessions. However, I have graduated to resistance bands. I'm sorry, but I won't be making a new workout video, though.

Monday, January 21, 2008



My friend's microwave went M.I.A. on Sunday night.

Word on the street is a former roommate came into the house while they were out of town, stole the microwave and then booked it to ward prayer.

The girls filed a theft report:

The men in blue couldn't get over the fact that the girl allegedly took the microwave and then went to ward prayer.

"I'm still trying to get over the whole ward prayer thing," Officer Curdie said. "Sorry, I don't mean to laugh. I just ..."

"So she came in, stole the microwave and said a couple of Hail Mary's?" Curdie's partner said.

This night ... priceless.

snow blows

Don't ever make a comment about how the snow is finally melting off the front lawn. It will come back to haunt you.

Thanks Kelly.

Yes, a day after my roommate made said comment, we woke up to about eight inches of snow. And after I left, it was still coming down.

Needless to say, I was unprepared when I walked out the door this morning. I thought it was another dry, cold day. I was in my suit and nice boots, and soon was covered in snow. I ran inside to grab my snow boots, and ended up rolling up my suit paints and went outside to spend 30 minutes cleaning off the driveway.

Anyone want to buy me a snow blower?

For all you idiots out there, this is how you shovel snow.

And here's the scoop on snow shoveling safety. My favorite line is: "The good news is that 15 minutes of snow shoveling counts as moderate physical activity according to the 1996 Surgeon General's Report on Physical Activity and Health." Looks like I don't need to go to the gym today.


When I returned home from work today, I had to shovel AGAIN! Annoyed. Check out how high that pile on the side by my car is!

And this is a table in my friend's backyard. Seriously. This is just from today.

Friday, January 18, 2008

voices in my head

I'm on the night shift tonight. While my friends are gallivanting around the state, I'm stuck at a desk until 1 a.m. listening to the police scanners.

The paper bought a slew of new scanners recently, to make sure we don't miss a thing. I think all the extra noise is making me miss more. There are too many voices in my head now, and I have a head ache.

So far, I've heard a call about a mom in an argument with her son because he wouldn't turn the TV off and a rollover accident on the freeway. Oh and some guy just got busted by the police at the Utah Jazz game and is being transported to the county jail. Exciting news, huh. Just what you want to read in your newspaper.

To pass the time, I'm reading a riveting issue of Sports Illustrated.

If you pick up a copy, there is a fascinating story about a dad who forced his kid to take steroids. It's called "Sins of a Father." The other one I can't put down is "The Life and Times of Rick Majerus." He's the lightning-rod former coach of the University of Utah. Ch-check it out.

Although I have enjoyed reading the articles thus far, I am still mourning the loss of Rick Reilly at SI. I used to flip right to the page before the back cover to read Reilly's column before checking out anything else in the issue. Now, I find the columns on that page rather boring.

Thanks for entertaining me on the night shift. Only 4 more hours to go!

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

merry christmas

So I spent literally hours on a family video to give out as Christmas presents to the fam this year. I wanted to include clips of the family singing together, but couldn't find the tape.

Two weeks after Christmas comes, and guess what turns up? The lost tape.

So without further ado here is the clip. Enjoy as the original Dethman 6 rehearses for a rousing performance at church.

Merry Christmas.


Apparently my blog posts are at such a high reading level hardly any of you can understand them. Who knew?

cash advance

Please accept my apologies. I will try to dumb it down a bit.

Monday, January 14, 2008

work tip #1

Don't play with the Photo Booth program on your computer when an editor is standing next to your cubicle wanting to talk about a story.


Contrary to popular belief, you will not get me in a pair of Spandex and a G-string leotard. Only the girls of Hot Sundae can pull off a feat like that.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

as requested

And now, ladies and gentleman, give it up for HOT SUNDAE (and Leigh).

Yes, that is just a sliver of my shoulder workout routine. Now, if only I could work it like Lisa Turtle, Jessie Spano and Kelly Kapowski.

Whew ... all that hard work requires 15 minutes of ice.

Saturday, January 12, 2008

bend and snap

The physical therapist has me doing all kinds of crazy stretches twice a day.

- the cane wave (I'm ever so industrious and use the pole from my Swiffer)

- the walk the line: I have to stare at a wall and let my fingers inch up the wall as far as my little shoulder will let them go. Needless to say, they don't go far.

-the rub-a-dub-dub: I'm supposed to take that towel and pull my bad arm a bit to get a stretch. But I'm too weak for this one, so told me to just try to get my arm behind my back and up an inch or so for now. Oy.

- the tap dance

- the I'm not creative enough to come up with a title for this one: this one is the hardest for me. I can lift my arm just about 5 inches, and I'm supposed to do three sets of 15 on this one. It SUCKS!

Friday, January 11, 2008


I had my first physical therapy appointment today.


When you haven't moved your shoulder in eight weeks, it doesn't feel very good when the physical therapist pulls and prods it all over the place. As much as it hurt, though, I'm glad to finally start working on getting my full range of motion back.

The good news is he said I already have pretty good mobility. He thinks that if things keep up the way they are, I'll be back in no time.

But for now I'm not looking forward to getting up for those early PT appointments.

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

famule pisr

This is what I look at every day at work.

My favorite item on my desk (next to Sadaf, the little Arabic nested doll I bought in the Middle East) is the family picture my nephew Jackson drew for me. It's a picture of the Batman family. And me. Cute huh?

Now if only I could get him to spell my name right.

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

proof it's in the genes

Poor Jackson didn't get the Dethman genes. The boy has to physically grab his tongue and roll it. For me, it's just natural, raw talent.



You've kept me from tying my own shoes, washing my own hair properly and cutting my own food.

You were a pain, but you were good for some things. You got me a lot of time off from work, and lots of sympathy points. Even my little nephew Gavin loved sitting on your little cushion and looking out.

I won't miss you at all. Sleeping with my arm in that funky position was not easy. But we had some fun together.

For now, I'll keep you locked in a closet and never look back. Don't come back now, ya hear?

(The doctor gave me the A-OK to take the sling off today. Now, it's a 4-6 month battle at the physical therapist to get my full range of motion back. Oh joy)

Monday, January 7, 2008

give a little whistle ...

When you wish upon a star ... your sister finally books the long-awaited family trip to Disneyland. Oh and your dreams come true.

Watch out, Mickey. Batman and his clan (including non-superhero in-laws) are coming for ya.

the countdown is on

In t-minus 20 hours, this little fashion accessory should be gone from my life forever.

Thanks to a torn ligament in my right shoulder, I've had to wear this fancy contraption for eight weeks now. I see the doctor tomorrow, and am crossing my fingers that he gives the A-OK to get this sucker off.

Saturday, January 5, 2008

bossy's birthday

Tomorrow is my big sister's birthday.

Amazingly enough, Betsy likes me for some reason. I know I hit her a lot as a kid. I was a brat, but she put up with it. My favorite phrase as a kid was "Shub-up Bossy." The name stuck. She even let me raid her closet (an unheard of event for girls six years apart from each other), hang out with her cool high school friends and sell candy bars door-to-door for her for dance fund raisers.

I remember the nights in our tiny double bed, with me hanging on for dear life, freezing on the edge of the bed while she sprawled out with all the covers. Or the nights we huddled together under that ugly blue blanket on our bed with the old black and white TV to watch some late-night television under mom and dad's noses.

Now we goof around all the time, despite the fact that hundreds of miles separate us. We're still two little kids. Only she has five kids and I am a grown-up with a real job.

Betsy has been, as they say in Wicked, "Dancing Through Life," since day one. From sporting a black, gold-fringed leotard with a broken arm in the basement to a Snoopy outfit while I heel-toe-stepped my way through "How Much is That Doggy in the Window" at the Sally Mack recital, the Boss always shook her groove thing.

She can still shake it to this day. And for that, here's to you Betsy. Happy Birthday.