Bad Farmers

After having lived in Burley Idaho for 18 years, and southern/eastern Idaho for a total of 32 years, you would think that I would have absorbed some skill in the farming/agriculture department. Not so. I'm a tad embarrassed about it.

We don't have a formal (or normal) garden. The house we bought has a decent sized backyard, but it was all grass when we bought it. No garden area had been carved out, which is just as well since the rabbits and deer mow down anything of worth anyway.

So, we decided to grow our garden via a handful of large pots strategically placed on our deck. We planned to put in really nice soil, water and feed them regularly, etc. And, we were hopeful the location would deter any pests.

We got one thing right-- the deer and rabbits haven't invaded, yet. But, I'm afraid to report on the other goals.

First, our green peppers. We bought 4 green pepper plants. They just "looked" hard to kill when neglected (a subjective observation, I add... nothing scientific about it except for my question to Michelle, "Hey, you think we could keep this plant alive?"). We put two plants per pot. So far, we've had ONE green pepper. To add salt to the wound (because there will not be any homemade salsa to add the salt to), two of the green pepper plants ended up being banana pepper plants. What on earth do you do with banana peppers? Sadly, its the banana peppers that are growing peppers like crazy, and we don't know what to do with them.

Second, our tomatoes. We bought 4 tomato plants plus one cherry tomato plant. We've had a great deal of success with the cherry tomatoes, but our regular tomatoes have produced dismal results. In fact, one plant in particular has developed some funky disorder that leaves our tomatoes looking like miniature red acorn squashes with rotten bottoms. No idea what it is... Mad Tomato Disease?  I've never before seen pear-shaped tomatoes till now.

Basil-- we bought a couple of these because we use them a lot. And, if last year was any indication, it, too, is hard to kill. The basil isn't dying-- rather, it is taking over the deck. Its like bamboo... I have to cut it back daily.

The jalapeno pepper plant is doing "OK". The peppers are starting to come in just fine. Preston, for some crazy brained idea, decided he was going to taste one last week. One bite and his mouth burned for an hour or so, forcing us to smear his lips with ice cream and aloe. Since then, I think Preston has had a goal of destroying the plant. Its looking more and more like a victim of physical abuse.

To top it off, whatever I/we didn't kill with skill, the boys have destroyed with toys. The bouncy balls have landed in the pepper plants so many times that the plants are starting to grow sideways.

Its the boys chore to make sure each pot gets watered every day. To get them used to the idea, we bought a potted hydrangea before "planting season" began. Preston in particular took to the watering schedule with gust-o... he watered the poor plant 5 to 6 times a day, making sure the water was as high in the pot as possible. The beautiful hydrangea lost its flowers, then its leaves, and then withered down to two little semi-green sticks poking out of the mud. I guess it was the sacrificial lamb needed to ensure our vegetable plants would be taken care of properly.

Over the years, we have tried gardening with varied results-- mostly bad. In Idaho Falls, our onions never got any bigger than when we planted them. The strawberries took over the entire flower bed, and I couldn't kill them back fast enough. The corn grew to a staggering height of 2 feet and produced corn cobs the size of Twinkies, each looking like a redneck grin when you opened it up (about 3 kernels spaces 3 inches apart from each other). The lettuce all rotted before we could harvest them. Potatoes-- pithetic... couldn't even make a good tater tot out of any one of them.

So where does this leave us? Well, back when mom and dad and I crossed the country to move me out here, we stopped by the Winter Quarters LDS temple visitor's center. The missionary there showed us her favorite photo of a bunch of beaten down pioneers (I still say that photo was Photoshopped!), and her favorite story about a widow with children that got so hungry on her trek that she had to eat dirt to stay alive. Seriously-- dirt. We laughed and laughed at the seriousness with which she told the story, and were nearly excommunicated for our outbreak-- but that's a separate story. Now, the authenticity of such a story is debatable, but in my case, I may have to slowly start introducing dirt into our diet. If/when the world finally comes to an end, it will not be my farming skills that save us. It will have to be be the dirt.

Girls Camp

Call me "old fashioned". I don't care. But, I can no longer sit idly aside and let another year go by without commenting on Girl's Camp.

Does anyone realize what is going on down there? Is it the heat? The humidity? Has the sun somehow affected those involved causing them to act like they do?



Girl's Camp. The only comparison I have is Boy's Camp. And, there is a HUGE difference between the two. If you don't believe me, just Google "LDS Girl's Camp" and "LDS Boy's Camp" and see which gets the most hits (my last count was 198,000 to 80,400, respectively).

Last weekend, I travelled the 1 hour and 45 minutes to Donegal PA to pick up Chrissa and 2 other girls for their return trip home. I needed that 1:45 to psych myself up for the return trip, but I also realized that despite this time, it was not going to be enough to prepare me physically and mentally from the teenager onslaught that was about to come my way.

I knew, just by the nature of huge masses of teenage girls in one area, that I was in for it. Add to that the spiritual principles of eternal significance that is attached to every breath and footstep made during the entire ordeal. And, as I entered the campground, I knew I was right. I had, once again, stepped into Pennsylvania's equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle.

Girls slowly came out of the cabins that they had been put up in for the prior 4 days. They looked like liberated concentration campers. Out some of them came in dirty clothes, ragged hair, etc. My truck was like the approaching Allied army.

Before I could say anything, girls started throwing bags and crap into my truck bed, asking me if I would be willing to drive them to the upper camp ground. They didn't want to drag all their belongings to the meeting point. Little choice did I have since the stuff was already loaded up by that point. So, I took the camping gear to the top and waited, and was awarded the title, "Calvary Cade" for arriving in the nick-of-time (calvary meaning the army unit, and nick-of-time meaning that the girls were ready to start a mutiny at any given second prior to my arrival).

There were dozens of girls, and the aire of estrogen was heavy. I KNEW that there had been hours of back-biting and accusations, cold shoulders and silent treatments, harassments and scandalizing, gossipping and scoffing, rumormongoring and insinuating. The battle wounds on their faces told a week-long story of an experience only teenaged girls can have when held up in leaky cabins for 4 days without cell phone coverage.

As if on cue, as we started our journey back home, a recanting of the weeks events ensued. First up: who was the most stuck-up girl there. After a short debate, a girl had been chosen. Second, a listing of the girls who HAD to have make-up while at camp, and how ridiculous those girls were. Third, the drama (they called it "togetherness") that resulted from the testimony meeting-- the only point in the week where you can catch all girls crying at the same time, but probably would not find the same group of girls even looking at each other at any other point during the camping trip. Fourth, which hair conditioner at camp was actually better for your facial pores. And fifth, which girl was missing her boyfriend's text messages the most (little to no cell phone coverage in the area) and how 4 days of crying as a result would affect their relationship.

There were the ants-- they happened to find their way into the food bags, sleeping bags, and hair of sleeping girls throughout the night. Then there were the mice-- same thing (not in the hair, of course, but I'm not totally convinced this didn't happen after seeing the girls emerge from their cabin coccoons when I arrived). And the bats and racoons. Sadly, the prayers to "subdue" the creatures didn't get answered, at least not in the way they had all hoped for.

How does this all compare to my experiences at boys camp? Well, for starters, ants had 3 functions-- they sizzled when thrown into the campfire; they helped you pass the "Wilderness Survival" merit badge by giving you an easy and convenient way to "eat off the land" (i.e., putting them in your pancake batter); or 3) they made good practical joke props by putting them in someone else's pancake batter. Mice-- they were fun to catch and put on a hot dog stick OR encouraging them to get inside other guy's tents when they weren't there. Interpersonal conflicts? We just found one person to vent on, sparing the rest of the group. That one person received the brunt of it all, sparing the rest of the team from a weeklong battle of hormones (we called it "natural selection"). No accusations, no insinuations, no backbiting. We didn't shower, either, so we could have cared less what hair conditioner was better for our pores.

In the end, all the boys were great friends when we left, aside from the scapegoat.

So, for future reference, if you are ever caught being asked to help out in some way at an LDS girls camp, you have been forewarned. Be careful!

Project Completed: 1; Projects Uncompleted: 4,239

Being a project manager, I'm sad to report that we have only finished one project at home in the near-full year we've been in this house. The reason is simple... new projects get loaded into my queue whenever the current one reaches a completion of 75%. I long ago gave up trying to keep track of what is not done. It is far easier to keep track of what IS done. And, today, I'm happy to report that number has reached an all-time high: ONE!

We started on the retaining wall a few weeks ago. The prior one was, well-- REALLY BAD. The owner had stacked them on top of each other in an obvious attempt to fool us into thinking it was structurally sound. As the snow melted this past spring, the wall tumbled over.

So I got to work on the new one. My back got sprained, I smashed multiple fingers (and some multiple times), I bled, I fought, I cursed. After a whopping $600 (which is a bargain for retaining wall blocks, in case you were wondering), we have the finished wall to present, below. Bets are being accepted for the number of days before the dirt gets backfilled, the flower beds gets covered with fabric, and barked.

Food Love

We, the Jensen family, are not ashamed to announce our love of food. For some of us, the evidence is clear. To others, not so much. But, just in case you had any doubts about certain members of our family, here is photographic proof that "eating like a pig" runs in the genes.

Cake Boss

Ethan's favorite show is The Cake Boss on TLC. By the way, we are traveling to NYC this fall, and we are working towards getting him to meet Buddy, the owner of Carlo's Bakery and star of the show (the one holding the rolling pin).

In preparation for that, Ethan was tasked with making and decorating the 4th of July cake. While the preparation was done nearly in entirety by Michelle and Chrissa, Ethan put forth his mind on the final outcome.

OK, the fondant tasted like crap. I made it. I got the recipe from the internet. But, its the "look" that counts, eh?

Return to Hershey

Six months ago, we were rained out. This time, we came prepared. The “Hershey Smurfs” had arrived once again at Hershey Park, armed with umbrellas and ponchos. However, the rain never came. Instead, we had the heat.

As written earlier, we had vouchers to Hershey Park after our abrupt end last fall with my parents when the rain started and never let up. Those vouchers expired on June 30th. So, naturally, we had to use them so we didn’t lose the money we spent. And, of course, that meant we spend more money getting there, eating, and staying the night… but, darn it, we were not going to lose the money we spent on the tickets!

We did have a great time. We stayed at the Keener House once again—the same B&B in nearby Elizabethtown that we stayed at last fall. The kids enjoyed the huge backyard they had and the bazillion fireflies that appeared each night.

The park was great as well. We scheduled to be there on a Monday to hopefully avoid the crowds that appear in every amusement park in the USA during the summer months. For the most part, we were successful. The lines in the park were minimal—I think the longest we spent was 45 minutes with the rest being less than 10.

Chrissa and I are roller coaster junkies. Lucky for us, Hershey Park is full of them—nine in all. We almost got on all of them, but didn’t have the time. Our favorite was Fahrenheit—see the photo. It was a blur, really, but looking at the photo, you can see what we went through. I’m not convinced with a ride like this that a track is really necessary… just fling us with a giant slingshot over a field of boulders. The rides will be the same (with the obvious flaw that you’d need new cars after each run). See video (not mine).

Also rode the Great Bear... see the video below (not mine)

I’m never surprised at the caliber of people that attend amusement parks. Us, the Jensen family, fits into this mold very nicely. Perhaps that is the reason for calling them “amusement parks”… it isn’t just the thrill of the rides, but the type of people that attend.Here is what I witnessed:

1. The parents that allowed their kids to punch, kick, and stomp on the Reese’s Pieces Peanut Butter guy, laughing at just how cute their little brat was;

2. The 400+ lbs girl that came out of the water park in a bathing suit… at least I think there was a bathing suit. It was honestly too hard to see it, and I didn’t want to look too hard for it;

3. The kid in the seat behind us on Fahrenheit, probably 10 years old, that had a fouler mouth than most adults I know. His rant continued until he got the Stink Eye from me;

4. The contrast of Mennonite boys standing in line next to Redneck boys. The former with straw hats, handmaid pants and shirts held up by suspenders, the later not having much in the way of shirts or pants at all;

5. The kid that kept drinking from the landscape pool near the Kissing Tower, his parent just watching in dumb disbelief (oh, wait… that was my kid);

6. The mom who allowed her kids, probably between the ages of 8 and 10, get dressed for the water park OUTSIDE the changing rooms and in full view of the public;

7. The mom and dad that had more tattoos than you’d see on any given episode of Miami Ink;

8. The “intellectually challenged” Park employee in charge of making sure the seat belts on the Great Bear roller coaster (an inverted coaster) are buckled properly—doesn’t this enhance the feeling of security in your mind?

9. Another “intellectually challenged” employee in the lunch line that did not know if they had water, did not know where we could get ketchup and mustard for our burgers, did not know what other drinks they had, could not point me to the napkins, did not know when the pepperoni pizzas would be finished… basically, she didn’t know anything;

10. The mom and pop that, together, were too big to fit into the roller coaster car. Thankfully, the 4 or 5 employees of the coaster had a tag-team approach that resembled the insertion and popping of a wine cork to get them in and out (in the same token, the coaster was one of those old wooden types—hardly the kind of engineering a person could trust to hold the forces that would inevitably ensue with these two in the car).

So, it was “amusing”. The day was hot till about 2PM, then cooled a good amount after that. We finished the day off eating overpriced food at The Hershey Pantry.