Games: Snowball Fight

Tomorrow will be a snow day. (I’m not being psychic; I’m just stating a fact. I get emails from an automated system Iowa uses to let people know when school districts announce closings, and our district just announced they’ll be closed tomorrow.) So it seemed appropriate enough, when Al wanted to play a game before bedtime, to have a Snowball Fight.

The nice thing is that it’s played with virtual snowballs, in the form of cards (appropriately round, though I’ve discovered it’s quite difficult to shuffle round cards). One player “throws” a snowball, using an attack card, while the other player plays a defense card to try to block or at least lower the snowball’s impact. There are a variety of attacks, including a sneak attack, a “charge,” a “dipsy doodle” (two snowballs in rapid succession), and of course an ordinary snowball. And there are likewise a variety of defenses, including partial cover (hiding behind a skinny tree) and full cover, catching the snowball and throwing it back, or somehow spoiling the attacker’s aim or making his snowball stick to his glove.

There’s a bit of strategy involved, as you have to decide whether to use a more potent card or save it for later, and deciding what defense is likely to be most effective against a particular attack. But a lot of it is luck, as the actual success or failure of the attack depends largely on the roll of the die. Some attacks work on any number from 1 to 6, while others require higher numbers. Some defenses subtract only 1  or 2 points from the attacker’s roll, while at least one  subtracts 6 and makes it impossible to be hit. Plus some defenses let you catch the snowball and throw it back!

One nice thing about the game – from my point of view – is that it doesn’t take very long. Even if you only get hit for a couple points each turn (once in a while you don’t get hit at all, but that’s less common), the points add up. The first player to reach 30 points is considered to be too cold and wet to go on playing, which means the game is over and the other person wins. And then it’s time to go in and get warm.

Ahh, nothing like a cup of hot chocolate after a snowball fight. (OK, so the hot chocolate is no more real than the snowballs. But with a snow day tomorrow, I may just have to make some real hot chocolate.)

A good end to a rough week

My vacation week is 80% over, and I’m happy about that. The first four days were the hard part, spending seven hours in the hot sun (temperatures have been in the 90’s, with humidity around 70%, for a heat index up to 105, so even in the shade it feels miserably hot) watching other people’s children. Tomorrow I get to myself (well, mostly - I have promised to play the Ungame with my younger son), in the air-conditioned house.

This was another required week off from work (cost-savings measure), and I originally planned on spending it with my younger son at Cub Scout Day Camp. That was before I found out that snow days had pushed the school district’s annual “College for Kids” a week later than expected, so that it conflicted with day camp. Unlike many boys his age, my son would rather be in a classroom doing math, art, and science than running around outdoors.

Of course, given the weather this week, some of the Scouts at camp may have wished they were indoors too. One mother expressed surprise camp hadn’t been cancelled, and more than one child went home with heat exhaustion before all of us adult volunteers became sufficiently aware of the symptoms to watch for (lethargy, headaches) and in the habit of demanding the children drink even when they didn’t feel thirsty.

I probably suffered from a bit of it myself. I felt lousy the past couple days, too tired to do anything more than I had to, or even to want to do anything. I promised myself I would not let the camp director talk me into being Tot Lot Director again next year. Supposedly I was a “figurehead,” the over-21 adult required by the rules, while teenagers would do most of the work with the kids. But much of the time I found myself alone with five or six kids aged 4 to 7.

Up, down, and round and round

Last year’s cheap kites from the dollar store didn’t hold up very well, so I bought a better kite to fly this year. At least I thought it was better. (I purchased it last August at the Children’s Museum in Indianapolis, which – being all about hands-on fun learning opportunities – seemed like a good place to buy such a thing.) But there’s a problem either with the kite or with the person flying it.

I’ll readily admit it could well be the latter. I spent half an hour trying to get this kite flying well enough to hand the spool of string over to my son so I could take a picture. But when it wasn’t slamming its nose into the ground, it was flying around and around in tight circles that just a few feet off the ground. A few times it got up about twenty feet or so, but never for as long as even half a minute before it was back to its kamikaze dives. Twice it slammed into my son – not nearly as painful as being attacked by a live shark, but he wasn’t too happy about it.

I’m pretty sure I assembled the kite properly, but I suppose there could be a problem with its construction that has it slightly off-balance. It was so windy that I could barely hold onto it, let alone survey it for balance and symmetry. Perhaps it was just too windy. After a week’s vacation with barely enough breeze to notice, I welcomed the brisk winds this afternoon and announced we were heading to the park.

The kite says it is rated for 5-20 mph. Wind speed at 6 PM when we headed out was about 18 mph, which should have been just fine. But looking back at the day’s weather statistics at wunderground.com, I see that we were having gusts of nearly 30 mph. Still, I’m pretty sure that the gusts weren’t blowing in circles, so I don’t see what they would have made the kite go consistently in counterclockwise circles.

Those of you who know how to get a kite in the air and keep it up there, what is the mostly likely cause of my difficulties?

Signs of spring

• humungous potholes in the Wal-Mart parking lot
• new smells and sounds in the backyard, distracting Kyra from “doing her business”
• wildly variable temperatures, down forty degrees overnight and back up a few days later (which may have something to do with my cold and sinus headache)
• almost melted piles of ice (that once were huge piles of snow plowed to one side of a parking lot), nearly black with dirt, sand, and bits of pavement
• store shelves filled with St. Patrick’s Day merchandise (shamrock-decorated cookies, beer steins, and men’s sleep pants, not to mention green necklaces, cups, plates, napkins, etc.) and Easter merchandise (plush animals, religious books and coloring books, Easter egg dye, Jello Jigglers egg-shaped molds, and of course mounds of candy, toys, and baskets)
• store shelves and racks with the beginnings of summer merchandise (swimsuits, snow cone machines and syrups)
• notes from school regarding selling raffle tickets for the school carnival, and requesting donations for gift baskets to be raffled off at the carnival
• spring break this week for our community’s public schools

And that last point means that my sons will be home all week. And I will be also. The company I work for is requiring all office workers to take a week off this quarter, either vacation or unpaid time off (eligible for unemployment since it is essentially a weeklong layoff) as each person chooses. (Another week will be required next quarter, and two at year-end as we did this past holiday season). This is apparently an increasingly common way for companies to cut costs to deal with the recession.

So I am taking a staycation this week with my kids. My plans include visits to four museums, plus games, kite-flying, baking, and crafts. Al and I started the fun today with a game of Killer Bunnies, followed by a walk around the block while imagining a time-travel trip. Tomorrow we attempt to make a dragon cake (practice for making one for the Cub Scout cake auction later this month), and hope for good weather for kite-flying.

(Can a groundhog predict) Weather or not

Since I was posting about history yesterday, I decided that today I ought to find out the history of Groundhog Day. Generally I try not to post something that’s all over the Internet (you can find many links to the significance – or non-significance – of Punxatawney Phil’s prediction this morning), but I decided it made a good example of how I like to see history presented.

First of all, using the groundhog as a weather prognosticator is a specifically American custom, tracing its roots to the German-Americans who settled in Pennsylvania. The whole February 2 “does it see its shadow” bit was not their invention, however – they just adapted a European custom to the wildlife available in their new land. In Germany, they had observed a badger’s behavior on Candlemas Day. Badgers apparently being scarce, the German-Americans found a handy replacement, which eventually gave the day its new name.

From there, I might find it interesting to learn about other European customs that were changed to fit the flora and fauna available in the New World. For instance, I know that carving a pumpkin into a jack-o’-lantern comes from the custom of carving other vegetables, such as turnips, into lanterns in the British Isles. (I’m glad we use pumpkins – hollowing out a turnip sounds like a lot of hard work.)

Claims that the Halloween connection comes from those carved turnips are apparently weak, however, as the first documented use of the word jack-o’-lantern and its association with Halloween come from the United States. (There’s another interesting study – how legends develop of the origin of the holiday and become something widely believed but with no firm basis in fact.)

I’m sure there must be many more examples, but right now I can’t think of any, and several web searches have turned up nothing. (There are too many hits on “customs” regarding transporting people and goods over national borders, searches for “native” all bring up articles on Native Americans, and examples of holidays being adapted mostly give me info on pagan celebrations turned into Christian holidays.) But my guess is that someone could write a very interesting book on the subject, covering history, geography, a bit of biology, cultural change, and more – without getting scholarly and boring to the average reader.

Snow on a Sunday afternoon

Walking my dog is sometimes as much frustration as relaxation. I walk; she stops to sniff. I stroll; she gallops. Besides trying to keep her from pooping in a neighbor’s yard or dashing in front of a passing car, I have to deal with her tendency to get the leash wrapped around her legs – and when I try to free them she struggles and gets tangled even more.

But this afternoon we stepped outside and the air just felt so peaceful. After the subzero temperatures of Thursday and Friday, today felt quite comfortable, just a few degrees below freezing. The snow was falling lightly, filling the air around us and dampening sounds, but adding very little to the thin layer of snow already covering the ground from last night.

We meandered up the street, Kyra stopping to stick her muzzle in the snow here and there sniffing for who knows what. I found myself more interested in the falling snow than in getting exercise, even waxing poetic about it.

Snowflakes fall softly,
Soundlessly,
Down-to-earth.
No lightning flash
Or thunder crash,
No beating drums
Or rising floods.
Only gentle
Snowflakes come.

Sometimes God’s love comes with thunder
Or dazzling flashes of light,
Sometimes in a flood of miracles,
So that scarcely can anyone wonder
If a God of love and might
Is watching over us.

But mostly
His love gently
Falls like snowflakes.
Each one tiny,
Sometimes shiny,
Barely noticed.
But together
They make up
A mighty covering.

Lord, I believe … help my unbelief

December 26

At 4 AM the back stoop was a sheet of ice. So were the stairs, the sidewalk, and the driveway. Not sure how much better the roads would be, I drove cautiously, 10 to 15 miles mph below the speed limit. The roads didn’t seem bad, but at 40 mph I found myself passing other cars. Once daylight came I hoped to pick up the pace, but instead traffic slowed further as we started seeing cars in ditches and jackknifed tractor trailers blocking entrance and exit ramps.

By mid-morning traffic came to a complete halt, lined up for miles due to (as I learned later) Indiana having closed the entire 150-mile length of the Indiana Toll Road for two hours. After a leisurely stop at IHOP (where I had firsthand experience of the ice as I skidded across the driveway), we got back on the reopened highway. After passing two disabled semis, I found myself sliding across the highway, regained control, slid again, again, and then again. I decided to get back to the side roads.

That proved impossible. The exit ramp was even worse, one solid sheet of ice where three cars were already stuck. I tried to reverse down the curve, and slid one way and then another (even after coming to a complete stop), before making it back to the highway I really didn’t want to be on. But there wasn’t much choice, so I drove slowly while more confident (daring?) drivers passed me.

At breakfast, my younger son had reminded us to thank God for the food, and I added my thanks for safe travel so far, and requested safety the rest of the way to New York. As I made my slow and emotionally stressful way along the icy highway, I remembered that prayer and asked myself why I felt no real confidence that we would in fact escape needing the services of a tow truck and/or ambulance.

Where Christmas isn’t white

Just a quick post, before a quick few hours sleep, before leaving at around 4 AM for a long drive. The boys and I will be visiting my brother-in-law (my husband’s brother) and his family in upstate New York, along with other relatives who have gathered for a family Christmas. (My husband can’t go along because he can’t get the time off work; my company shut down for two weeks due to the slow economy, so I get the longest vacation I’ve had – while still employed – that I’ve had since my younger son was born in 1999.

It will certainly be white where we’re going – we’re packing boots and snow pants. But there are some places where it’s never snowy in December – such as most of the southern hemisphere. Take a look at this picture of Santas on a speedboat in Sydney. I’ve never spent Christmas in a warm region (even the year I spent in Spain, I spent Christmas break traveling through France, Germany, and Switzerland), but I’m sure it wouldn’t feel the same celebrating it during the summer.

Of course, I know that our familiar Christmas traditions were primarily formed in countries such as England, France, and Germany – as well as here in the U.S. – where cold and snow figure prominently in December. Carols about “in the bleak midwinter” assume a such a setting for Jesus’ birth, rather than the climate of Israel along the Mediterranean.

Even if Jesus was born in December (I have seen some arguments that he was, based on the timing of the angel’s appearance to Zechariah and Elizabeth’s pregnancy in Luke 1, but others use the same events to place Jesus’ birth in September), winter there would hardly have been as severe as I am used to. So those who are used to celebrating his birth in warmer climates may well experience something closer to the original Nativity.

Still, I’m glad not to be in Italy right now. Preparations for Christmas celebrations in Vatican City have been somewhat hampered by flooding. I’m sure if all the snow we have right now were to suddenly melt, we’d have a bit of flooding here, as we did last spring. I think that the work done on our basement this summer will prevent the problems with water that we had last year, but I’m in no hurry for a full-scale test.

Mid = beginning?

I have long wondered why the day defined as the beginning of winter falls in the latter part of December, when freezing temperatures have been the norm for some time. To add to the confusion, the time of the winter solstice is also known as Midwinter. Since winter lasts well into Febrary in most places I have lived (and often through much of March as well), today is hardly even close to the middle of winter. But it sure doesn’t feel like the beginning either.

The local schools have already had one snow day (day before yesterday, which should have been their last day before winter break), as well as one delayed opening and two early closings due to snow and ice. Trees are still encased in ice from the storm Thursday night (so is my older son’s car), and yesterday added a coat of snow over the ice. Here is a picture, taken yesterday afternoon, of the corner where we live.

 Today the snow has mostly been blown off the trees, by a wind that currently is giving a wind chill of 2 degrees below zero – and is expected to produce a wind chill of as low as thirty-five below tonight. The blizzard warning just expired at 6 PM, but the wind chill warning remains in effect until midnight tomorrow (by Tuesday the wind chill is forecast to be only 8 degrees below zero). If this is the beginning of winter, I hate to think what the middle will be like.

It’s definitely a good time to stay indoors, drink hot chocolate and read a good book - or watch a good movie. Well-fed and warmed, I can only try to appreciate how comfortably I will spend the winter (even if I do have to take the dog for walks in sub-zero weather sometimes), compared to how it used to be in the ages long ago that produced the world’s midwinter traditions.

What’s that smell?

Ah, the wonderful smells this time of year. Pine, gingerbread, garlic salt…

Garlic salt? If you live in Ankeny, near Des Moines, winter has a new aroma. Eighteen thousand pounds of garlic salt that would have ended up in the landfill were donated by a local spice producer to help melt ice on Ankeny’s roads. Mixed with regular road salt, the garlic salt is working out well in its new role.

Smell and memory are closely related. Scientists are still learning why and how, but it is common experience to catch a whiff of some odor and have it suddenly bring back a flood of memories associated with that smell. Butter … popcorn … movies. Or maybe stringing popcorn for the Christmas tree (does anyone do that anymore?). Cinnamon and nutmeg … pumpkin pie … Thanksgiving with grandparents and aunts and uncles. Or hot spiced cider served at a long-ago Christmas program.

I wonder if someday, the smell of garlic in Italian food will remind some people of that winter of 2008 in Ankeny, Iowa.