Smorgawhat?

My hostess the teacher has family living in Provo, which is a town south of Salt Lake City. Every year they host a delicious Swedish buffet called a Smor-- uh... a Smurges... a Smyrgabyr... um... Well, you figure it out.

Whatever it's called, I was invited to come and eat with them.


Look at all these delicious dishes!


And that doesn't even take the hot food into account.


Or the potatoes.


Or the many delectable cheeses.


And let's not forget the strange-looking but yummy fruit soup for dessert.


Whoops. Little help here?


No more fruit soup for me, thanks. *urp*


There's just too much to choose from. I'm going to lie down here in the Chex Mix for a while.

There was also a rumor going around that the real Santa was somewhere at this party, so I decided to take a look around and see if I could find him.


I started out looking around Snow Village.


I asked some local residents where they thought I might find Santa, and they suggested looking on the top of the Noel Building.


"No, son, I'm just a helper."

I kept looking.


There was no real Santa in the Christmas tree. (Great view, though.)


He wasn't in the Christmas stockings.


He also wasn't in the candy jar. (Hey, lemme outta here!)


"Excuse me, sir, are you the real Santa?"

"Sorry, kid, I'm just hanging around."


I don't think this guy was the real Santa, but I told him I wanted a Red Ryder BB gun just to cover the bases.


Look! This has to be the real Santa!

He sent me over to take a closer look at the coffee table.


Look, it's the true meaning of Christmas.


Plus I got to ride a sheep, which wasn't half bad.


Thanks to my new friends for inviting me to partake of their unpronounceable deliciousness! I'll come back again soon and have more of it, just as soon as I figure out how to say what it's called.