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.

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...

Google, Grandma, or Garmin?

The fog was dense.  The kids-- panicked.  My wife was pleading with me to get us back home so she could use the little girl's room.  The roads were dark, wet, slick.  We hadn't seen traffic in miles. 

In the distance, a dog barked. 

What happened?  Where were we?  And, who would name their town "Slate Lick"?  We had joked just a half hour before that the lighted tunnels felt like we were travelling back in time... perhaps we really did. 

Our surroundings were eerily devoid of civilization.  No road signs.  No street signs.  Despite the voice inside me saying, "Continue east... you'll eventually hit the turnpike", we were not finding the turnpike at all.  The further east we went, the more dreary our circumstances came.  That "little man" inside me is an idiot, apparently.  He has NO sense of direction.

The Garmin (GPS)--- yeah, we left it at home.  Earlier, I (Cade) had taken it out of the van in order to update the maps on it.  But, seeing that the map updates were $50, we decided to wait a little longer.  I did not return the GPS to the van and, instead, left it next to the computer.

But, the sun had set and we had plans to visit the Hartwood Acres Christmas Lights in nearby Indiana, PA.  It was great.  Fun.  Kids were excited.  The tunnel I alluded to earlier was the tunnel that was created near the end of the tour where you drive your car through it as the lights make you feel like you are travelling through time.  Little did we know how "true" this would become (or so we thought).

It all "ended" when we left the park... we turned right when we should have turned left.  And, please remember... we didn't have our GPS with us.  That one decision began an evening of fear, doom, and befuddlement.

I'm only accepting half the blame for this one.  You see, when we left the house to go to the light show, Michelle commented that we didn't have the GPS in the van.  I offered to turn around and go get it (keep in mind... this all happened BEFORE we left our subdivision), but Michelle said we would be fine getting there.  What we didn't anticipate was getting back.  BIG mistake.

So, yes, we turned right when we should have turned left.  Then we went straight when we should have turned right.  Then we made a million other turns thinking, "We can't be THAT far away from Route 8, can we?"  Eventually, the navigator (Michelle) started to grow anxious and panicked, and the pilot (Cade) started getting mad at the navigator FOR LOSING HER COOL!  This caused a chain reaction with the family... Ethan began to cry saying we'll never see our house again.  Chrissa began to quietly panic in the back seat, falling in and out of consciousness.  Preston and Amberlee dozed off.

The darkness didn't help.  Neither did the fog, which was rather heavy at times.  Neither did the fact that PA is notorious for 1) not labeling all their roads; 2) changing the road's names at intersections (i.e., if you turn right, the road is called something completely different than if you had turned left); 3) not having street lights; and, 4) randomly angling off in various directions.  We eventually got to the point where all I had was my "inner me" telling me that we were east of Cranberry... just not sure how far east we were, or if we were northeast or southeast of home.  Like I said earlier, however, my "inner me" is, apparently, a babbling idiot.

We had debated calling some friends, but the hour was late.  So, we called Grandma Humpherys in UTAH and asked her to get on Google Maps to help us navigate home.  Google Maps is great, so long as you know where you are, and as I mentioned, with the roads not being well labeled in most places, that made finding where we were pretty hard. 

Eventually, we ended up in a small "village" called Slate Lick.  Wow.  So using Slate Lick as our reference, we began the slow task of locating our position in PA and finding the roads to get us back home.

I was right... we were east of Cranberry, roughly 45 minutes or so.  Oddly, as we returned home at the directions of grandma on the cell phone, we came across, for the second time, many of the roads we had traversed earlier that evening.

WHAT A NIGHT OUT. 

See below for a map of our "adventure".  "A" and "D" marks Cranberry, where we live.  "B" marks Hartwood Acres, the location of the Christmas Lights driving tour.  "C" is Slate Lick... the spot we ended up in after driving in the dark fog before grandma was able to save our bacon via help from Google Maps.

View Larger Map

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