PPG Center

The family and I travelled to the PPG Center a couple weeks back to see what all the hub-bub was about regarding the Pittsburgh Christmas experience. 

Just in case you are interested in making travel plans, here is your map of the location:


View Larger Map

We had a great time.  The temperature was wicked cold, but there is one benefit about cold weather and kids... sometimes, they are too cold to complain.

 The events were: ice skating around the Christmas Tree (rink and tree are bigger than the one at Rockefeller Center in NYC, no doubt); a huge ginger bread house display; and, some indoor Christmas thingy that I really can't explain.  They had a tree with more ginger bread houses surrounding it, some music playing, etc. 


***Shiver***

Ironically, all the stores around the rink were closed.  Starbucks, Dunkin Donuts, etc.  What is up with that?  Most reasons we even venture out is to bet on the odds that we'll find something unhealthy for us to garbage down. 

At any rate, we did have a good time. 

Christmas 2010



New Christmas Pajamas



As I'm sure is true for all of you, it was a hectic few weeks prior to Christmas and, all of a sudden, it was over.  Now what?


We had a great day, though.  All the fun started the night before.  Honestly, it is getting harder and harder to justify the existence of a Santa Claus for our 8-year-old.  He's finding out that some things just don't make any sense.  Nevertheless, thanks to http://www.noradsanta.org/ we were able to keep the magic alive for him for one more year.

Despite this, however, Ethan was still a bit too curious to totally give in.  At three separate intervals Christmas Eve night, as Michelle and I were "preparing" and he was supposed to be in bed asleep, he snuck out of his bed and went downstairs to get a visual on the tree, presents, and stockings to make a mental comparison of how he left them during his previous inspection.  This is one good thing about buying/owning a crappy run-down house... the stairs creaked a little too much during his descents, triggering my senses and alerting me to the fact that we had a rogue child on the loose.

Ethan: "Dad, what happened to the stockings?"

Dad, realizing he took them off the mantle a bit too early: "Ethan, are you crazy? Santa is probably here right now, and you had to nose around and force him to hide! Now, get to bed!"

Ethan: "Lets check the Internet, just to be sure."

So, thanks to the Internet, we were able to determine that Santa was in the Sandwich Islands at the moment, far away from Pennsylvania and not scheduled to be here for another couple of hours.  I had to come up with excuses, fast. 

Dad: "Let me check with mom..."... "oh, she told me that she had to take them down to make sure they were clean and empty for Santa."

Preston was easy to convince, however.  Everything from brushing his teeth to making sure he made his bed to getting him to eat his beans-- each was "encouraged" by making sure Preston knew that I had access to Santa's cell phone number and could call him at any time.

Preston did almost blow it for all of us, though.  In the days leading up to Christmas, he actually was able to sneak into our bedroom during one of our (actually, Michelle does all the wrapping... I am a wrapping idiot) wrapping evenings.  Amberlee followed.  They found everything that Santa was planning to bring to them, all unwrapped and easily accessible.  Amberlee walked out with her stuffed Minnie Mouse, and Preston came down to ask us who the toy pistols were for.

Needless to say, I got in trouble for not watching the kids closer.  I had to defend myself with the question, "Well, why didn't YOU (Michelle) lock the door when you left the bedroom?"  She countered, "Because I'm too short to reach the key on top of the door jamb!"  Touche.

The kicker was Ethan's Christmas list.  He sent 2 letters to Santa the past couple of weeks, the second letter being a revision to the first.  He had only 3 items on it:

1. A Tech Deck mega ramp (these are the miniature skateboards that are the latest craze at his school);
2. A rat-faced nutcracker; and,
3. A boyish nesting doll.

Ey.  Words cannot express my concern for this kid.  While other boys are interested in the latest Wii games, sporting equipment, etc, my kid hopes that the rat-faced nutcracker he expects to receive is a Russian original.  The nesting dolls??  We tried to convince him that these are girlish, hence the inclusion of the adjective "boyish" on his Christmas List.

Defying all odds, however, Santa was able to find a rat-faced nutcracker.  Although he couldn't make the claim that it was a Russian original, it was a limited edition, which saved us from weeks of scrutiny.

The nesting dolls?  I think Santa had to put his foot down on that one.  "Boyish" couldn't bring him to deliver.

Overall, the kids got spoiled, again.  Amberlee got lots of girlie stuff and HAD to try on all clothes she received before she moved on to another present.  Preston-- he got his guns and his Hot Wheels, and he's happy.  Chrissa got iPod / iTunes stuff, DVDs, and so forth.  She's happy. 

Only 364 days till the next one.

A Year in Review

Well, 2010 is coming to an end

So its time for us to relate,

Some memorable experiences

While living in the Keystone State.



Pittburgh, PA



An early Jensen reunion

Was held last January

Orlando Florida and Disney World

Was our winter sanctuary.

We shared a rental house, yet,

Despite our close living quarters,

We never fought or argued

Or threatened with family lawyers.

It was soon after this we had noticed

Chrissa’s musical inclination.

So on to Craig’s List we ventured for

A melodious recommendation.

We searched the countryside

Of Pennsylvania and Ohio

Soon we found the perfect piece—

A baby grand piano.

Used, but only barely,

Is what the seller said.

So we offered a sum of money

That would make a crook drop dead.

The piano is now sitting

Under our living room window.

Since then Chrissa has transformed

Into a musical Van Gogh.

By June we were itching

To return to Hershey Park.

Last year’s rain came down so hard

That we left on Noah’s Ark.

This year, however, the park was dry

And all day there we did spend.

It’s a place that all of us

Would highly recommend.

Next we went to Lake Erie

And played in the water and sand.

Think Lake Erie’s cold and windy?

You sorely misunderstand!

Westinghouse’s new building in June

Was finally complete.

Cade’s 45 minute commute each day

Had become an obsolete.

From his desk to our home

Is now a little over a mile.

This made our move to PA

All the more worthwhile.

Chrissa also took part

In the annual girls camp outing.

But now her view of future camp-outs

Is borderline “doubting”.

In a cabin never intended for humans

The girls learned to survive.

They looked like emerging castaways

When their parents did arrive.

Stories of raccoons, bats and mice

Were the tales of the week.

And uphill they had to climb

To even take a leak.

At home during the summer

Our yards we tried to resurrect.

They had obviously been suffering

Years of willful neglect.

The work paid off when in autumn,

We had apples galore.

And enough peaches to fill

A typical grocery store.

Michelle had the apples pressed,

And the peaches she did jam.

For a couple of weeks that fall

She worked like Neanderthal Man.

In August Michelle left me, though,

And to Utah she travelled.

The house and family soon became

A society, unraveled.

For a full week Cade was forced

To play both mom and dad.

He nearly offered the kids for sale

In a local newspaper ad.

Fully refreshed and relaxed

Is how she finally came back.

But dad was on the verge

Of a major anxiety attack.

October came and, with it,

Back to school the kids went.

By that time Michelle’s impatience

Had reached 200%.

When G and G Jensen paid a visit

In the early October weeks

Off to New England we left

Another vacation, we did seek.

We visited Newport Rhode Island,

Boston and New York City

The fall New England countryside

Was all very pretty.

The Statue of Liberty was visited

As was the USS Constitution.

We saw the spots in Boston

Of the American Revolution.

Palmyra New York

Was the final leg of our journey.

By then we felt like we all were ready

For a hospital gurney.

Soon it was over,

And back to Idaho they went.

It was a fun trip but we realized

That we had, by far, overspent.

So back to work dad went

And the kids, back to school.

The “back to reality” realization

Seemed unusual and cruel.

So, Chrissa is now 14

And already in grade nine.

Most nights to her room and books

She’ll typically resign.

In school she’s doing “okay”

And in piano, she’s excelling

Even if sometimes

She’s a teenager, rebelling.

Ethan is eight

And in the second grade.

His love of life and family

Is always being displayed.

Preston is 4 years old

And is mom and dad’s little assistant.

Though, every once in a while,

He plays “Mr. Persistent”.

Amberlee, our little princess,

A month ago turned two.

Lately she’s been giving our furniture

Colorful marker tattoos.

Michelle has been busy

Keeping all of us clothed and fed.

She’s usually the last person

That crawls into a bed.

Dad is busy at work

With little time to spare.

When he gets some its usually

Doing home and lawn repair.

Nevertheless, we are happy

And we all feel very blessed.

We feel our Savior has given us

All the very best.

To this end we leave you,

A Merry Christmas we exclaim.

We wish you a year of happiness,

Fortune and fame.

With all of our love,

The Jensens

Reasons I Hate Shopping

No, this isn't about Christmas shopping.

Three weeks ago, after waking up feeling like Quasimoto, I told Michelle it was time to shop for a new mattress.  We hadn't had it very long.  Five, six years, maybe.  But its shape had taken on a new dimension of its own.  It looks like something that had been run over by a semi-truck, and I'd wake up feeling like I had been in the bed when it got run over.  Michelle wasn't getting much better results, either.

Anyhow, off we went to Wexford to shop for a mattress.  There are few things I hate worse than shopping for a mattress-- cars, clothes, and... keep reading.

We stopped at three stores, each one claiming to have the best and cheapest.  Each one staffed by people who couldn't dazzle us with brilliance, so they baffled us with bull crap.  In the end, we left feeling more confused than we did when we started.

We narrowed our picks to 3, and then returned to the two stores that we like better.  Slowly, we narrowed the picks down. 

We returned, again, to settle on one mattress... only to change our mind at the last minute and get a different model.  Yes, it was the more expensive model.  No, it did not include the box spring, and we HAD to get the box spring in order to claim the warranty on the mattress.  In the end, we spent $700 more than planned, and the mattress itself was double the price of the next best model we were considering.

The next day, Michelle didn't feel good about it.  We hadn't received the mattress yet-- it was being shipped in a few days.  At first, it was the box spring-- the extra cost to get them in order to keep a warranty-- "Cade, you can turn our bed frame into a platform, right?  That will save us $500."  Me: "Uhmmm... sure."  So I called and canceled the box spring part of the shipment and began plans to remodel the bed frame.  A platform bed would suffice the warranty clause for this particular mattress.

The next day, more feeling of unsettlement.  Michelle calls and canceles the mattress claiming it was too expensive and there were too many little catches that we learned that the store "forgot" to tell us.  If you are keeping track, this decision returned us to Square One.

To date, we still sleep on the Iron Maiden.  Its a bad sign when you have to turn your pillow-top mattress over in order to get more comfort.

Second item: a vacuum cleaner.  The one we have/had was suddenly smoking up the house and not sucking anything.  I mean it "sucked", but not in the literal sense.  So, I took it upon myself to impress my family by taking the vacuum apart in an effort to fix it.  What I found: the main vacuum hose was split in two, and the vacuum housing had broken.  Result: it was junk pile bound, and I tossed it into the basement. 

So, off to the store to find a good replacement.  There a million different types, but we settled on the Dyson.  A little bit more money, but supposedly worth it.

We bring it home and put it together and give it a run.  The lady at Costco had good things to say about it-- how could we lose? 

Well, Michelle couldn't get it to go under any furniture, and it turned into a growling monster when she tried vacuuming the rug.  It had so many attachments and integrated features that I swear it was half-Transformer. 

Back in the box it goes, and back to Costco.  Result: we still have no vacuum.

And, no mattress.

THIS is why I hate shopping...

The Baptism

Its been a week now since Ethan was baptized.  All in all, the pre-baptismal practices in our bath tub proved worthwhile.  There was no screaming, no frantic gasps for air, no relentless questions before stepping into the water when it came time to do the actual, real baptism.  I had had plenty of practice myself due to the frequent baptisms that my sisters performed on me in the ditch running past our house when we were growing up.  I don't even want to know what was floating in or on that water.

In fact, before Ethan's baptism began, he and I snuck into the font when no one was looking, just to make sure it was just right-- temperature-wise.  Not sure what we'd have done if it was too hot or too cold, but thankfully, we didn't have to make that decision.

We did have some funny moments, though.  Neither one of us brought white socks, so we trekked through the church in our bare feet.  Also, I didn't dare walk through the men's room in bare feet, so I wore my brown socks till I got out, then took them off and stuffed them into my pocket.  I handed them to Michelle, but forgot to retrieve them after the baptism was done.  Thus, I had to dress back into my suit without socks on, my bare ankles showing inside my shined shoes.

It was a great day.  Grandpa Humpherys spoke, Chrissa spoke, and Grandma Humpherys and friend Denise sang.  Michelle even braved the public speaking fear and said the opening prayer.  Truly, a miracle!

The most amazing part is the fact that my little man is now 8 years old.  Is it possible?  It just cannot be possible.  No way. 

What a great kid, though.  Even the bishop said, during his interview with Ethan the morning of the baptism, that he was "unique"... apparently, the bishop didn't get a word in during the interview... Ethan did all the talking.