Christmas Mira-ssacre 2011

By all accounts, the events of the last few days at our house would have qualified for front page news.  It started with parental threats of nonviolent consequences for misbehavior (i.e., "Santa isn't coming now because...").  The methods then switched to sibling interrogations-- "Preston, if you don't tell me what you did with the Wii remote, then Santa isn't coming to visit you."  From there, it went to full-fledged panic mode: "PRESTON, thanks for staying up past 8PM, now Santa is going to fly past our house because YOU ARE STILL AWAKE!"  It ended with a storm of wrapping paper that lasted about 30 minutes, followed by a new threats of returned gifts to the store for not putting them away, and then it all died in a hail of BB's.  And, somewhere in the middle, I burned the roast that was supposed to be for Christmas dinner.

And thus, Christmas came and went.  Hello... and good-bye.

I did manage to get some Christmas lights up around the house... see below.  Hope you like them.

Tree in our backyard

Our driveway

Road leading out of our subdivision

Our front yard

 Just kidding, of course.  These photos are of our trip to Hartwood Acres' light display.  If you recall, last year we tried this and, having forgotten our GPS, got lost on the way home, ending up about an hour off-course in a town called Slate Lick PA.  Our single light strand is proudly being displayed, wrapped around the handrail going out our front door, but the middle third of it isn't working...

Thanks to the Seneca Valley School District for insisting that school remains in session through Thursday, December 22nd.  After all, those last 4 weeks of Christmas program practices, movies, parties (without sugary treats, mind you), and coloring Santa and elf pictures IS an essential part of my children's education.  Yet, I can't really say that keeping them in school that long was a bad idea, either.  They've now been out of school for over a week and already we are gearing up to sign them up for boot camp at Ft. Bragg.

Our Christmases are kept small, low key, low maintenance.  We have bucked the trend on buying the latest trends in technology, toys, games, etc.  After all, its hard to explain why Santa will buy the cell phone whilst not paying the monthly bill.  Such is the cruel trick of modern technology... while Santa might deliver the latest iPad, he likely isn't ready to foot the bigger expense: the monthly service fees.  That is up to mom and dad or, in our case, the person claiming ownership of the new device.  That, dear children, requires a JOB.

And so, our 15 year old remains phone-less, though I can claim she's been involved in the decision.  She is perhaps in the 1% of kids today that does not have a cell phone, but we believe, later on, she'll be among the 1% of people that can actually afford to pay his/her monthly cell phone bill because she'll have learned by then to buy what she can afford via working, budgeting, and saving for it.  Its a lofty-- and risky-- maneuver, but one we are going through anyhow.  Seriously... I would love to get that new truck and pass the payments on to St. Nick, as I explained to her, but that is impractical.  Because her taste in things that she wants changes like a pair of underwear, she got a money tree for Christmas... the contents of which can be used to help her buy whatever piece of technology she can afford.  On the table is still the iPhone, but she has also shown interest in the iPod, Nook, etc, so its just a matter of her coming up with the difference to buy whatever it is she wants to buy-- monthly service fees, if applicable, included.

Ethan just wanted science stuff.  He's clearly moved out of the toy stage of life, which is sad.  So, Santa got him a few things related to science, plus a Wii game or two and a few other things.

Preston just wanted a green diesel truck that can tow his Hot Wheel cars.  Santa brought him a red one since green isn't the most popular color of diesel toy trucks, apparently.  He, like the others, got some other things as well.

Ambie got a few small toys, some dress-up princess bling, etc.  I didn't capture her reactions on the video recorder-- "Oh, its beautiful!" was all she said whenever the wrapping paper revealed anything inside of it.

Thus, our kids Christmas was complete.  All kids seemed to be happy with their share of the loot.

Oh, yeah... I also got each boy a new BB gun, which should explain the "hail of BBs" comment made earlier .  Preston got the infamous Red Ryder BB gun, and Ethan got a Daisy Grizzly pump action.  Already, we've shot roughly 3 million BBs at 4 targets and anything else that might fly overhead.  Thanks to the "community-owned" lot of trees in our backyard, I can easily conceal our fun, though I'm still not 100% sure that what we are doing is legal.  PA doesn't classify BB guns as "firearms", per se, yet somehow some person is going to see or hear us and before I know it, ATF agents will be dropping out of the sky on top of us.  I've learned that the BBs travel slow enough to not even completely penetrate a milk jug, so I think its pretty harmless entertainment that won't arouse any concerns amongst our neighbors or the Cranberry Police Dept.  Its fun to watch them, but all I do is get one gun ready to fire while the other kid is firing, and then I rotate.  Load, pump, hand off... load, pump, hand off... its about all I do.

They wouldn't wait for me to buy targets... they made their own out of styrofoam plates.

Michelle and I got a couple of things, but overall, we just enjoyed the madhouse that was the Christmas morning unwrapping party.  As I mentioned, we were pretty well done in about 30 minutes.

Michelle did help the kids make some Christmas cookies...

And, as usual, the Christmas Eve unwrapping of new pajamas...

We also tried a family portrait using the camera timer, which, oddly, made a better picture than we usually get when someone is behind the camera trying to get us all to look in his/her direction and smile...

My "gift" was the creation of Christmas dinner, which I did almost exclusively.  On the menu: smoked brisket, which I thoroughly burned (accidentally); creamy scalloped potatoes, frog-eye fruit salad, chef's salad, dinner rolls, country steamed green beans... and some other things I forget.  Aside from the meat, it was all pretty good.  I also made white peppermint fudge and cinnamon rolls.

Incidentally, I'm currently preparing the next brisket for the smoker.  The Christmas error can't tarnish my reputation.  So, Round #2 of BBQ is on tap for New Years Eve dinner.  Hold your breath.

As for me, I've had the week off of work.  I thought I'd enjoy it... and, for the most part, I have.  But, clearly I've run out of things to do, and now I'm just a family annoyance.  I made leaps of progress in the basement... nearly all the finish carpentry is done.  But, I suppose, like school, my professional work can't come fast enough for many in this house.

We did make and send Christmas cards... if you didn't get one, we are sorry.  We print out a certain number, realizing that we can't send them to all of our friends and family.  So, see below...

Front...

... and back.

Also, to the mailman or thief or whomever now has the Christmas card with gift cards that I mailed to my mom and dad... I hope you enjoy them.  I'm not 100% sure that they were stolen, but I did mail them to my folks on Dec 20th and they still have not arrived.  I realize the Post Office is slow and their future is uncertain, but even the Pony Express wasn't this slow.  My guess is some nut-job is sitting in the Outback right now, enjoying a Porterhouse while reading the latest and greatest B-and-N novel.

Bhut Jolokia

I live for food.  I do not eat to live-- I live to eat.  I admit it.  No matter what it is, I'll try it and, usually, end up liking it.  Food has to be experienced, in my opinion.  Taste is only one sense... better food is also heard, seen, felt, and, in some cases, feared.

The only things I do not like to eat have to deal with under-cooked (or, uncooked) inner organs of various ruminants.  Tongue, tripe, liver... blah!  Forget it.  I'd rather die.  I'm also not into eating anything that is still alive.

Its no secret that I like things spicy, though.  Chips and salsa, Tabasco... they are all modern day manna.  Food from heaven.

Today, I may have found my match.  Don't get me wrong... I'm not one of those guys that can eat food still on fire or breath in Bear spray.  I don't snack on dried jalapenos or drink Drano.  I simply like food spicy, and almost without exception, the spicier, the better.

Shopping at Giant Eagle, I found a new product by Mrs. Renfro's Gourmet Salsa.

Note that this isn't "Mild", "Medium", or "Hot".  It is classified on the jar as "Scary Hot".  So, I bought it and took it home with a bag of tortilla chips.

She's right... it is scary hot.  The smell from the jar nearly set off the smoke detectors in the house.  My hair started to sizzle when I bit into it.  Then, my throat and tongue when numb.  Then, I swore a flash of fire burst from my mouth when I yelled, "Wa-hoo!  That's hot!"

The ingredient: Bhut Jolokia, a.k.a, "The Ghost Pepper".  Rumor has it that when you bite into one of the babies, you turn into an apparition.

After several pints of milk, I decided to look up this food item on the Internet to see what its all about.  In case you didn't know, peppers are rated on the Scoville scale.  A green bell pepper is 0.  A jalapeno is about 5,000 units.  The habanero pepper, which is my favorite, is about 200,000 units.  The ghost pepper: a mere 1,041,000 units.  The only way to get something hotter is to artificially make it or plunge it into the belly of a nuclear reactor.

A "unit" represents how much of the spicy plant extract would have to be diluted to get it back down to "undetectable".  So, a drop of ghost pepper juice would have to be diluted over a million times to bring it back to sea level.

In 2007, the Guinness Book of World Records names Bhut Jolokia as the world's hottest naturally grown pepper.  Nothing is hotter.  In fact, this pepper, along with others, is what is used in the manufacturing of law enforcement pepper spray and "irritant ammunition" for the US military.  And, the concentrates of this wonderful gem can immobilize a charging grizzly bear.

I also found some other interesting facts.  The ghost pepper can cure depression (probably because a depressed person who eats one actually has to get up off the couch and run to something to quench the burn); relieve arthritis (I think even a dead person would find the will power to open a jug of milk after ingesting this stuff); lower blood pressure; and even fight off the flu, colds, and stomach ulcers.

No kidding... seriously, what foolish organism would WANT to live in an environment flooded with ghost peppers?

I also found this great article-- the Indian farmer who grows these things has a great photo in it:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/20058096/ns/health-diet_and_nutrition/t/think-you-can-handle-spicy-try-ghost-chili/#.TvTITzWLPZc

Anyhow, go buy some and enjoy.  Now, I've gotta find our Pepto Bismol...

A Christmas Program - Again

For the fourth or fifth time-- to be honest, I lose track-- I survived another Christmas program brought to us exclusively by our local elementary school.  This year, Preston was forced under extreme duress to don an elf costume and sing songs in front of a lunchroom full of complete strangers-- other than me, his mom, and his little sister, of course.

Singing wasn't the only thing they had to do, either.  They also had to do the actions.  Who wouldn't be embarrassed by that?

For almost an hour, we all endured song after song of a hundred asynchronous kindergartners.  Poor Preston.  He was clearly not enjoying it.  Our dis-enjoyment came in the days preceding his play, actually.  We (and when I say "we", I mean Michelle) had to find an elf costume for him per directions from his teacher.  Target, Wal-Mart... nothing.  Apparently, elf costumes for 5 year-olds are not popular retail items to carry around Christmas time.

I can relate to Preston's Christmas woe.  I remember mom dressing me up in a white shirt with a foofy red scarf thing tied in a bow around my neck while I stood in front of dozens of strangers at the Festival of Trees at the Best Western Burley Inn to sing various Christmas songs.  I hated it, and proof is from my picture:

Yes, that is me at the top left-- closest to the door, hoping that someone on the other side of the stage would fall off or do something to embarrass themselves (more so than simply wearing the costume) so I could bee-line it for the exit.  Me, looking like a Lawrence Welk contestant, all for the entertainment of the blabbering parents and grandparents that watched.  Each kid has the same look on his/her face, and that kid in the center-- wherever you are-- I hope your obvious expression of helplessness in this photo didn't ruin your life completely.  Thankfully, YouTube did not exist at that time, else I'd have to become a monk and live in hiding for the rest of my life.

For what seemed like hours, I had to pretend I was happy it was Christmas time.  I apologize to those who may find themselves in this picture, too.  You, just like me, are victims of this horrible torture.

Preston, center

Note: Mom, I still carry deep scars from this experience, and it is the sole reason I never pursued a career as a singer.  And, it took me years to be sure of my gender after this ordeal.  Look at me... all I needed was the tu-tu and I could have been easily mistaken for a wandering member of the local ballet club.

And thus, Preston had to pay his youthful dues, too, I suppose.  The "ooh's" and "aahh's" from the crowd is evidence enough that these performances are not meant for the common kid.  They are meant for the dawdling parents.  I caught him looking in our direction with that unspoken, "Get me the &!$# out of here" look.  The kids rush to the doors after the final song was over was like a rush to the life boats of a sinking ship.

His after-the-show performance was a bit more enjoyable to him.  We got to see his classroom and his art project, which he proudly shows off below.

Sadly, the experience didn't end for him that day.  The next day, he had to show up to school in the same garb.  The school had arranged for them to travel via bus to one of the local retirement homes to sing to the residents.  A hundred kids and a dozen residents... my bet is that neither set really wanted to be there.  But, when a person lives in those age groups-- less than 6, and greater than 90-- what you do and where you go is decided by others.  You just have to play along.

My hope is that Santa saw his good sport attitude and, despite unease, played his part twice this week.  Maybe he'll get some extra brownie points come Christmas Day.

In case you want to watch part of his performance, watch the clip below...

School Photos

I believe we have the cutest kids around.  Sorry, y'all.  Its true.  Below are Ethan and Preston's school photos.  We are still waiting on Chrissa's.

3rd Grade

Kindergarten

Ethan's Mug Shot

So this was Ethan at the dentists office moments before we trekked to the hospital for an overnight stay.  I was hoping the photo would show more, but you can see it on his left side... kinda.  The look on his face is priceless-- "What you mean we have to go to the hospital??"

The $5,000 Bowl of Popcorn

Its a bit of a debate on how it all happened... some say it was popcorn, other say it wasn't (but didn't have an alternative explanation).  Regardless, something happened on Saturday or Sunday a week ago that made the following week a miserable mess.

We ate popcorn as we watched a movie on Saturday night.  Whether it was a popcorn kernel or not, Ethan ended up with a toothache on a Sunday night.  On Monday, he went to the dentist to have it checked out.  Dentist's response: "We need to pull the tooth."  You know, its a good thing this guy went to dental school... had he been a doctor, there'd be a bigger problem with his advice for treating something that hurts.  "Sinus pain, eh?  Well, let's remove your face."

Opting instead to give him some tooth pain stuff, we took him home and loaded him up.  After all, we felt at that time that it was the result of a kernel, which probably made the tooth and surrounding gums sore from being lodged there for a day or two.

The next day-- Tuesday-- he seemed fine.  Still a little sore, but nothing extraordinary.

Wednesday morning, he walked into our bedroom looking like Rocky Balboa after his fight with Apollo Creed in Rocky II.  His cheek, his lips (at least partially), his eye... they were all red and swollen.  The swelling had pushed his mouth to one slide-- just slightly.  Not knowing the right course to take, we took him back to the dentist again (our personal dentist, not the dentist impersonator we saw before), and upon seeing him, she said, "Uh, not here... you need to take him to the emergency room."

Of course, the emergency room close to our home wasn't the right place to take him, apparently.  Instead, upon our dentist's recommendation, we drove him to Children's Hospital of Pittsburgh, about 25 minutes away.

Nurse at the desk, looking down at her notes: "What are you bringing him in for?"  She then looks up at him and says, "Oh, never mind."

Once he got settled into an examination room, we had a slew of nurses and doctors coming in to check on him.  They were all very good to him, but the steady string of them seemed to me that they were bumping into each other out in the hallways saying, "Whoa... you've gotta see the kid in 104".

Finally, the dentist on staff and the pediatrician got there and recommended that we start pumping him full of antibiotics using, of course, an IV.  They were checking him over, looking for signs that the infection had made its way into his eye and eye socket, sinuses, etc.  Kids skulls are still full of holes, so all the small holes and cracks make it easier for infections to get into vital spots such as the eyes and brain-- more so that adults.  I mean, I knew kids-- my kids for sure-- had holes in their heads, but this was ridiculous.

Soon after starting him on the first IV, it was recommended that we stay overnight "for observation".  To me, this is code word for, "We want to make sure you stay here so we can keep running up your tab."  Plus, they still wanted to put another dose of antibiotics in him, but couldn't do that until 2AM.  With all that, and still being unsure about the state of his infection, what can a parent do?  We didn't want him to become deformed or disfigured and end up looking like Hellboy.

Michelle and I looked at each other, and considering the fact that we still had 3 other kids at home, school the next day, and so forth, I became the obvious choice for staying with him.  I had no overnight bag, no change of clothes, and only the items I had with me when I darted out of the office to ride with Michelle and Ethan to the hospital.

Later, we were moved up to some room on the 8th floor where we settled in for the night.  It was a 2 patient room.  At first, we were the only ones there.  Around midnight, in comes another kid with his mom to join us. He was suffering from a bad case of asthma, apparently (and, apparently, the doctor-patient confidentiality thing only goes so far as the willingness of the other patient in the room not saying anything to anyone else, something I'm clearly not doing.  Sorry, Darnell).  Sharing a room and bathroom with a stranger in those kinds of settings is NOT a pleasant experience.  Seriously, for the cost of a night in the ER, I could have better accommodations staying in the Renaissance Hotel in Pittsburgh for the night... and have money left over for breakfast the next morning.

So Ethan got the bed and I got that upholstered square thing at the end of the room that the hospital said was a sofa.  The "sofa", as they called it, was like sleeping on a pile of old motorcycle parts.

The next day, we waited... and waited... and waited some more.  Waiting is one thing you can guarantee will happen in a hospital.  Unless a person's guts are actually outside of his/her chest cavity, no one rushes for anything in a hospital.  Noon came and I was pleading for them to give us our release paperwork.  Finally, it came and we left for home.

Currently, he still has his tooth and the infection appears gone (at least from a visual observation).  He's on a 10 day drug regiment to kill off the infection and we'll soon assess with our dentist if the tooth needs to come out.  In the mean time, I'm looking to see who can straighten my spine out thanks to the wonder-bed I was fortunate enough to sleep on that night.

I'll post a photo of him all puffed up that night.  It won't give it justice, but it does make him look like a chipmunk trying to swallow a billiard ball.

The funny thing in this whole experience was Ethan's responses to the doctors as they asked him questions about his condition:

Nurse: "Do you have any pain in your neck, forehead, tummy?"
Ethan: "Uh, no... I eat popcorn with my teeth, so the pain is in my tooth."  This was followed by his look that seemed to say, "Are you really THAT stupid?"

Doctor: "If you could rate the level of your pain from 1 to 10... 10 being the worst pain you've ever had... what would it be?"
Ethan: "Uh, it would probably be somewhere between 1 and 10."

Nurse: "So, are you a Steeler's fan?"
Ethan: "Oh yeah.  So are all the kids in my school.  But, we don't have cable because my mom says its against our religion, so we don't watch many games."

Resident: "Ethan, have you ever had any other toothaches like this?"
Ethan: "Yes, when I started kindergarten I had one."
Resident: "Oh, you just started kindergarten?"
Ethan: "Uh, NO!  I'm a heck of a lot older than that!  I'm in the 3rd grade!"

Nurse: "So what are some of the things you like doing at home?"
Ethan: "Dad just bought me a telescope so I like astronomy."
Nurse: "Really?  Me too!  Did you know that Jupiter has 63 moons?"
Ethan: "Actually, there are 64."

Doctor: "Before we let you go, I just want to know who is going to play Scooby Doo next year?"
Ethan: "Actually, Scooby Doo is a cartoon who plays on TV."
Doctor: "I know, but I was just wondering who would be Scooby for Halloween next year?"
Ethan: "Well, we couldn't be Scooby Doo this year because mom couldn't find a dog costume.  So, all she could find was a little stuffed Scooby dog.  She was so mad.  I don't think I want to try it next year."

Doctor: "So how did all this happen?"
Ethan: "It was from popcorn.  There is an actual term for it that you should know about... its called a popcorn absence."
Doctor: "You mean, 'abscess'?"
Ethan: "Yeah, that."

Bubba @ 9

My biological firstborn turned 9 years old recently.  This is a big deal to me... his age is a gauge of my own.  I'm 36 right now, so when Ethan is my age now, I'll be... uh... well, I think I'll be 63.

Its amazing to see how much he's changed over the years.  And, its all gone by so fast that it makes my head hurt.

Anyhow, we had his birthday party (just our family this year).  His big present was a telescope, which he's wanted for a while now.  Already, he's an expert at it giving us all kinds of information and useless facts regarding the solar system, all to a degree that would make the biggest space nerd jealous.

The telescope was a big mistake, though.  At least at this time of year.  We should have gotten it for him for some holiday during the spring, summer, or fall.  The reason is because he immediately wanted to use it, which meant I had to tarry out in the cold in my shorts and t-shirt to set it up for him.  Not wanting to be out by himself, I stayed to help him dial in to the moon, then Jupiter, then some house off in the distance.

In the process, I got hypothermia.  Not really, but I never did go back in to get on something warmer.  Instead, I stayed out in the 30 degree weather with only a couple layers of thin cotton on.  It took me the rest of the night to return to normal temperatures.

Not to be outdone, we were back at it the next night, too, trying to dial in to Neptune.  I had warned him that his telescope was of the "educational" brand, meaning we are lucky to see the moon through it, but he was determined.  Neptune was found, but it looked like any other star in the galaxy.

How did we know it was Neptune?  His telescope came with a computer program that charts the planets and stars.  He's already gearing up for Venus, which should come around in a couple of months or so.  The program is constantly "up" so that he can know what planets are in view.

As for me, I'm just happy that he's happy.  I did accidentally ignite the little plastic robot thing that sat in the middle of his cake, though.  Accidentally.  Things like this happen in old age.

Notice the black ear on the robot guy... my mistake.  Just got too close to the flame!

The Fam

Thanksgiving 2011

We spent Thanksgiving at home this year.  This is the first time in the past 13 years or so that we spent it as a family at our own home.  Note: 13 years is the number of years that Michelle and I have known each other.

In short, we don't do this.  In the past, we have gone out to eat.  In Idaho, it was the Shilo Inn.  It was good.  Or, we'd take the trip to SLC to eat at Little America.  It was good, too.  Before I was married, we'd drive as a family to Twin Falls or Jackpot Nevada.  Nothing says "Thanksgiving" like sidling up to the buffet line at Cactus Pete's... or, watching in disbelief as the waitress at the Golden Corral (it could have been another restaurant... I forget) dumps the entire tray of Thanksgiving meals (all 7 of us) at our table.  It took the rest of the day to pick the gravy-covered mashed potatoes out of our shoes.

Since we've been in Pittsburgh, its been the Marriott here in Cranberry or the Grand Concourse in Pittsburgh proper.  The Marriott was good... the Grand Concourse wasn't anything to write home about.

A few times during the past decade, we would meet up with friends or family and do a big combined shin-dig.

This year, I had mentioned that we go to Nemacolin Woodlands Resort, which is about 70 miles south of Pittsburgh.  By the looks of it, it would have been a honkin' good time (http://www.nemacolin.com/).

This year, we decided almost at the last minute (roughly 3 days before the holiday) to stay at home.  It was an odd feeling, really... kinda like deciding to do your own appendectomy since you already have the time and the tools to do it yourself.

So, we made up the menu and went out to buy the ingredients: ham, stuffing, salads, dinner rolls, baked mac-and-cheese, cole slaw, baked spaghetti squash, mashed potatoes, breads, fruits, vegetables, etc.  It was quite the spread... and we only ate about 1% of it.  To top it off: key lime cheesecake and Michelle's blackberry and raspberry topped creme brulee (which is probably more addictive than chocolate-dipped crystal methamphetamine).  And, in true Jensen fashion, Amberlee started to feel a bit ill later that day.  She ended up snuggling next to me on the couch... then showed her true love for me with a sudden barf explosion.  Semi-digested Thanksgiving is so nice to have all over one's self, the couch, the carpet, etc.

All said, it was a good choice to have it at home this year.  I'll save Nemacolin for dogsledding, skiing, or the 4X4 adventure.

The Spread

The Creme Brulee.... do'h!

The Gang

The "Full" Mark

Young Einsteins

Michelle and I keep telling ourselves that we were blessed with brilliant and obedient children.  As you can see below, we usually get the same reaction from our boys no matter what is asked of them.  Now, we can interpret this in one of two ways.  First, we can interpret these expressions as proof that our kids' intellect is so advanced that our questions to them are obvious-- and a waste of their time to even consider, OR we can interpret these as proof that our kids need to start wearing beanie hats with a chin strap when they ride the bus to school, dimly aware of their own existence.  

We just can't figure it out yet...

Amberlee Turns 3

A few weeks ago, our youngest turned 3 years old.  This is significant because it also represents the number of years we've been in Pennsylvania.  I left for PA when she was just a couple weeks old, and she moved here with the family on a permanent basis when she was just a bit over a month old.

She's changed a lot...

Before--

After--

Never Trust Your 5-Year-Old With A Secret

It was time for the dentist yesterday when we ran squarely into Preston's stubbornness.  He was NOT going to go.  He had a small cavity that needed to be filled, but he insisted on staying home.

I pulled a suggestion from my "How To Be An Awesome Dad" handbook-- bribery.  So, I took him aside to tell him that if he chooses to go, I'll make sure that one of Ethan's upcoming birthday presents is opened early this year (his b-day is on Dec 1st), just in time for Thanksgiving.  The gift: Phineas and Ferb: Across the Second Dimension (the Wii game).  These two runts have been bugging us for months to purchase this for them.  We caved.

But, to date, its been in a bag downstairs in the basement, waiting for his birthday to arrive.

Upon telling Preston of this plan, he relented and went to the dentist.  When he got home, he insisted on seeing the game.  So, I showed it to him.

Me: "Now, you cannot tell your brother... it'll be our secret, OK?  Just wait 2 days!"
Preston: "OK, dad."

Roughly an hour later, Ethan comes up to me to say, "So, did you buy me that Phineas and Ferb game?"  I said, "No" (this was a must-lie situation).  Preston, fearing I was lying to him, came up to us and said, "But, dad, you said you bought one."

The gig was up.  Ethan was on to us.

Ethan: "So, you DID buy the Phineas and Ferb game, didn't you!"
Preston: "Crap, dad, he knows!"
Dad: "Uh, no."
Ethan: "Preston?  Did he buy it?"
Preston: "Umm...."

Moral of the story: don't trust your kindergartner to hold a secret for very long.  I guess when you raise them to be honest, its hard for them to purposely be deceitful when the time calls for it.

I mean, how hard is it to lie?  It isn't that hard.  Clearly, I need to do a better job at raising these boys to be men.

Finally, I Have Struck It Rich

Somehow, I always knew I had money hidden somewhere that would one day change my life... inheritance, someone taking pity on me and leaving me his estate, whatever.

Moving to Pennsylvania made it a bit harder to find me, apparently.  But, the State of Idaho finally caught up to me and forwarded the money that was found in my name.  Today was my lucky day.

Rather than spoil the surprise, I'll let you read it for yourself.  My only question now is-- how do I spend it?

Halloween 2011

Behold, the Mystery Inc Team...

The fake, real ones...

The real, fake ones...

Michelle was Scooby Doo (not really), and I was the Lake Monster (no costume required).

Pet Insurance

Lately, we all have been inundated with information regarding health care, health insurance, etc. The verdict is still out on whether these changes will have any positive impact on us, but, I am pleased to report that me and my family are now eligible for pet insurance.

All we need is a pet.

Michelle is very anti-pet, really. Not that she hates animals (if she did, she’d never have married me OR had 4 kids)… she just feels that a house is the place where human beings live. Dogs and cats live elsewhere (my argument is that cats shouldn’t really live at all, but that’s another issue).

I was interested to see how this pet insurance worked, so I got on the website to enter a former pet of mine, Bandit. Bandit was a horse, sort-of. I mean, he had the look and shape of a horse (sort-of), but I’m not entirely positive that his DNA was 100% equine. Somewhere in his life, he had to have been invaded and subsequently possessed by aliens. That aside, though, I was sad to learn that horses could not be insured. Only cats and dogs.

In keeping with the Bandit motif, I entered “Bandit” as a Laborador Retriever. The list of possible dog breeds was staggering. I was tempted to go with Grand Bassett Griffon Vendeen or the Karelien Bear Dog, but I felt I would be too presumptuous in doing so. Besides, I had a Lab at one time—Scooter. And, "mutt" wasn't an option.

Next, Bandit’s birth date. I had no idea, so I made it up. I know people keep track of pets’ birth days as if they were one of their own kids, but I honestly couldn’t remember, nor would I care, when a pet was actually born. I mean, if the birthday cat/dog doesn’t care, why should I? We had neighbors once that got party hats (for the pets), made a birthday cake, had presents, and so forth for their dogs. I rarely remember to do all of that for my own kids.

Next, I got to pick the pet’s health care plan. I went with the modest one—after all, I’m part of the “99%” and really couldn’t afford much. The deductibles where listed… but with a $250 annual deductible, I could insure Bandit, the make-believe dog, for a mere $32 a month. I got great coverage for that deductible, though. Just to name a few: if Bandit broke his leg (a “cruciate rupture requiring surgical repair”), I could then get reimbursed $1,645 of the estimated $3,700 vet bill, once I met my deductible. Or, if Bandit got a sudden case of cystitis, I would be reimbursed $430 of the estimated $1,055 vet bill.

Also covered: diabetes treatment, should Bandit turn into a couch potato; “near drowning” treatment, in case the dog forgets how to swim; electric shock treatment in case Bandit decides to chew on a power cord or whiz on the electric fence; and, hypothermia treatment—if Bandit lived through it.

Seriously, though… if I had a dog that had any of these things happen to him, I’d be embarrassed to call him a dog. He’d be pound-bound for sure.

All the major illnesses, including cancer and arthritis, had various levels of coverage, too. Sadly, “pre-existing conditions” were not covered, though. Bandit’s dripping eyes and mental instability would have to be carried without the aid of pet insurance.

All this for just $31 a month!

Oddly, for about 10 times that cost and 5 times the deductible amount, I can insure my family for pretty much the same things. But who is really comparing? Is it so unusual that I can get better coverage for my fake dog than I can get for my 3 year old daughter? Nah.

Of course, I could take the other approach to pet health care. For $20, I can buy a whole box of 9mm bullets—100 rounds, to be exact. That comes out to about $0.20 a bullet… more than enough to take care of any illness or injury that should come across the poor thing. That’s how we rolled in Idaho, anyhow.

Diversity Day, Amish Fraud, and a Deceitful Zoo

It was a whirlwind day today.  I learned that the weather today was supposed to be good, so a couple days ago, I announced plans to visit the Pittsburgh Zoo.  My hope was that it would be a family activity, but only half of the family showed up.

Starting at roughly 10AM today, I took Ethan, Preston, and Amberlee to Soergel's Orchard in Wexford (http://www.soergels.com/).  Chrissa was not going to go to the zoo (how childish), and Michelle wanted some time away from the kids.  But, in the 3 years I've been here, I've never stopped by the orchard.  Michelle and the kids have, though.  Our mission: to find the perfect pumpkins that we could carve up, chop up, mark up, etc, and leave out on our step until they became a moldy mess.  We were able to find just the right ones, but it took real will-power to resist the fresh apple cider, apple cider donuts, apple cider funnel cakes, apple cider this, apple cider that... not to mention the BBQ, hot dogs, and other delectable grub.

From the orchard, we took off to the zoo, only to find out that, as we entered the parking lot, all the kids were in Halloween costumes.  Ugh... my well laid plans were suddenly at the mercy of a bunch of kids dressed as Super Heroes.  Reason: Ethan never goes to things out-of-place, and as if on cue, he began to pout that HE was not dressed up, too.  And, to make it worse, they all had trick-or-treat bags ready to be filled.

Yep, it was ZooBoo Day at the Pittsburgh zoo, and my kids arrived without a costume.  Clearly, I had missed the memo.

But, we entered anyway, thankful to the zoo employees handing out free bags to the kids (and parents) dopey enough to miss the notification of the zoo's biggest day of the fall.  Oops.

We grow 'em big in PA... this monster was 1250 lbs.

Before we went in, though, I had a small run-in with the ticket lady.  Last season, we purchased season passes, which came with 4 free "guest passes" that could be used at any time... or so we were told.  I presented them to the ticket lady, which she promptly took, and then proceeded to tell me that the zoo was no longer honoring them.  Eh... what?  We exchanged words... mine mostly dealt with the personal belief that the zoo took us for a ride to get us to buy last season's passes, only to NOT honor the free passes that came with the deal.  I didn't know what her responses were... didn't really listen or care.  Secondly, she asked the age of all the kids.  I said: Ethan is 8, Preston is 5, and Ambie is 2.

Her: "Is she 24 months or older?"
Me:  "What do you mean?"
Her: "If she is older than 24 months, she gets charged the kid prices ($12!)."
Me: "She's 2."
Her: "I need to know if she's 24 months old or older, sir."
Me: "She is 2, and that is all you are going to get.  If you are now starting to ask for how many MONTHS our kids are, maybe we'll just go to the museum next time.  They don't ask there."
Her: "Alright... one adult, 2 kids... have a nice day."

And so, we went in.  Hey, I figured if I got screwed out of the free passes, they can get screwed out of one of the not-free passes.  Not an Even-Steven situation, but I felt better afterwards.

The zoo was your typical place of relative diversity... all kinds of species, both native and exotic, some scary and gross, some that should stay burrowed in their homes, some that looked like they'd be dragged through the dirt, others that looked like they'd been pampered since birth.  And, the animals were fun to look at, too.

Either gorillas, or a photo of a typical Pittsburgh street curb. 

But, a couple weeks back, Ethan decided to enter a school contest (these contests are really ruining my home life... see prior blogs on the kitchen contest) where he'd enter an exhibit that he put together that shows others what diversity means to him.  My sneaking suspicion is that "diversity" in this context means diversity of people.  I'm tired of that.  So, I "encouraged" him to focus on the diversity of animal life while at the zoo.  He took photos of animals... some out of focus, some blinded by the flash, some with half their bodies out of the picture.  We did get some good photos, though.

Not to be outdone by our counterparts in the other categories of our animal kingdom, the people visiting the zoo were hysterical, too.  And, weird.  Example: we watched the polar bear play with a large blue plastic barrel while swimming in his pool.  He was having a great time.  The lady behind me, however, was seeing something totally different than I was.  Being the good, tree-hugging mom that she was, she told her daughter, who was probably 5 years old: "Look!  The polar bear has learned how to recycle!"  Isn't that nice?  The mere act of playing with a discarded barrel shows that even at an elementary level of animal phyla, we can all still learn the valuable, Earth-saving lessons of post-consumer reclamation.  How nice.  And, to think that I thought the bear was just playing with a piece of garbage...

The Recycling Bear, apparently...

Also, Preston, on our way out, said that his favorite animal was the chicken.  Huh?  I told him that there were no chickens in the zoo.  "Yes sir, dad... it was the chicken that we could shoot for Thanksgiving."  Ah, it was the TURKEY.  But... did I really pay $35 to get these kids in for the purpose of seeing their favorite animal: the elusive wild turkey?  They only run wild through Pennsylvania in flocks... drive enough, and you'll likely run one over.

Thought this was a good pic of the boys in the polar bear exhibit, till I noticed the girl in red on the right.
What's she pickin'?

And so, the day of diversity was done.  Almost.  The last note of fun was the Amish family that was entering the zoo just as we were leaving.  Being late in the day, their horse must have gotten tired on the trip, causing their tardiness.  Regardless, however, they were there... the kids without shoes, the men in straw hats, the women in their traditional blue and black full length dresses.  Clearly, they were not orthodox, though... simply being at the zoo seemed to tell me that they weren't as isolated from the world as traditional Amish tend to be.  But, as we were leaving, proof of an Amish conspiracy made itself plainly clear to me.  Old Man Amish, who had to be the grandfather, was sitting on a motorized Rascal, ready to tear through the zoo on 6 volts of horsepower.  And, this guy was heavy... at least 350 lbs.  Call me a conspiracy theorist, but... an Amish family, at the zoo, one of them on a motorized scooter?  Uh... no.

While leaving the zoo and thinking about the Amish family, I had to reflect on one particular "candy table" up near the polar bear pond.  Whereas most vendors were handing out candy to the kids (except for the hippies passing out BOTTLED WATER AS A HALLOWEEN TREAT), one guy with world peace on his mind was handing out CFL bulbs.  You know... the curly-cue type that are supposed to last a thousand years and save you a million dollars.  Yeah, what a treat, eh?  I wonder now... did the Amish guy take one?  That'd be the smoking gun of an Amish conspiracy to me: the acceptance of a modern day CFL light bulb.

See our photo slideshow on the right.