Monthly Archives: March 2014

March Madness: Torture by Thin Mint

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It's March and that means it is Thin Mint season.

It’s March and that means Thin Mint season.

Girl Scouts are scarce back here in the woods, but last week I scored a case of Thin Mints after following a trail of crumbs on social media.  I met up with Heather in a parking lot behind the local school (not a mint-free zone), forked over the cash, and brought my stash home.

Now those Thin Mints are torturing me.  Their chocolate sugary goodness are the perfect complement to morning coffee.  The refreshing mint cleanses the palate after lunch or supper.  These small treats fit the bill for a late night dessert if I am craving something sweet.

But I will not eat them.

I have already fallen off the bandwagon on caffeine, gluten, dairy and alcohol.  I will not give in to sugar, even in Thin Mints.

I bought my Thin Mints for tradition. It’s March.  For almost fifty years, I have eaten Thin Mints in March, the peak of the Girl Scout cookie-sales season.   For most of his entire life, my son has eaten Thin Mints in March.  We have our traditions and must maintain them  –even if doing so means several weeks of torture by Thin Mint as the supply steadily diminishes.

I have sworn off Thin Mints as follow-up to a “whole foods cleanse” I recently completed.   I wanted to shake things up with my eating habits.  Maybe lose a few of the pounds that stealthily creep on year after year.  Learn some new tricks that might help me to sleep better and feel more energetic.  In doing so, I might eliminate all the fun in life, but maybe I could take up gambling.  Somebody’s got to support all those new casinos opening in New England this year.

Although my husband says the color is unappetizing, this chocolate-y protein-packed smoothie filled me up during my week long cleanse. No sugar, dairy, or other evils. And it is delicious! For the recipe, see the bottom of the post.

Although my husband says the color is unappetizing, this chocolate-y protein-packed almond-milk smoothie filled me up during my week long cleanse. No sugar, dairy, or other evils. And it is delicious!

Except for the caffeine piece, the whole foods cleanse seemed reasonable:  Follow a whole-foods diet for a week, with a focus on eating more fruits and veggies. No gluten, dairy, alcohol, sugar or caffeine.  No processed foods.  After a week, I could start adding foods back in.

The idea behind the cleanse isn’t to transform everyone into gluten-free teetotalers, but to eliminate toxins from the body and nudge participants into making small changes in diet over time.  Not necessarily to become gluten-free, but to eat less bread and pasta, and more veggies.   Not to permanently swear off Greek yogurt, but to move away from dairy as the only way to dress up coffee or cereal.

Completing the week-long cleanse was easier than I thought.  The biggest challenge was giving up coffee.  I slowly had been moving towards eating less bread and pasta anyway, and had replaced milk, for the most part, with almond milk.   And although I love a daily glass of red wine, I’d been having trouble sleeping for a long time, and my doctor suggested trying to skip the evening wine.  Instead, I’d switched to a nightly wine glass filled with tart cherry juice, which my doc said might help me sleep better.

During the week, I felt tired in the morning from lack of coffee. By evening, however, I usually felt more energetic than usual.

Although I am inclined to be a skeptic about the health claims of various programs and diets, I think I benefited from the completing the cleanse.  I am not waking up at 3 a.m. and tossing and turning until 6.  And although I’m again drinking my morning coffee, I’m now only dabbling in gluten, dairy, and alcohol (which is kind of the point).

However, after finishing the cleanse, I decided to more or less permanently give up sweets and sugar, except as a very rare treat.  No more afternoon cookies or the occasional doughnut. The Hershey Kisses in the closet would go in the trash.  The cleanse taught me that I don’t really crave sugar. I don’t need it, the way I need my coffee.

But Thin Mints–they are small.  They are a treat.  They call to me.

Each day, I pack two or three into my son’s lunch box.  If you know that middle-age means a barren existence of no Thin Mints, it’s best to make sure your child gets to eat them now.

Glaciers will melt and sea levels will rise. Wars may be fought for oil.  China may call in its loans to the U.S. government and the economy may collapse.  But at least my child will have memories of Thin Mints.

Perhaps it would be better to have no memory of Thin Mints at all, than to be tortured by the memory of their minty sweetness.

Perhaps eating Thin Mints would make a better memory than one of being tortured by the memory of eating Thin Mints.

Do I want to live in a world where my relationship with Thin Mints ends with the memory of torture by Thin Mint?

It’s the end of March.  A nor’easter is on a path to hit the coast with several inches of snow.

I’m going to make a caffeine-gluten-sugar-dairy-alcohol-free smoothie and consider my options.

Another benefit of ordering a case of Thin Mints is that your cat gets a new box to add some excitement to his dull house-bound life.

Another benefit of ordering a case of Thin Mints is that your cat gets a new box to add some excitement to his dull house-bound life.

P.S.

I completed my whole foods cleanse with the guidance of health coach Kate Kennington at GLOW Body Work.

This recipe for a Raw Banana Cacao Breakfast shake is sweet, filling, and full of protein.  The key ingredient is the cacao.  Bananas can be fresh or frozen, and you omit or add the dates as you wish.  You can also add protein powder for more protein.

Chia seeds, which apparently are full of omega 3s and other good stuff, swell up and create a sort of pudding when they are soaked, so I think including them in the smoothie contributes to a feeling of fullness.

 

 

Heads up: The Maniacal Traveler is coming!

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Standing on the summit of Mount Washington earlier this winter. Temps minus 20ish. Do I look maniacal?

Standing on the summit of Mount Washington earlier this winter. Temps minus 20ish. Do I look maniacal?

This winter, renaming my blog has been on my t0-do list.  “Random History and Offbeat Trivia” was always a placeholder for me, a starting point, since I firmly believe that it’s always better to begin a journey than to wait for the perfect moment, or perfect blog title.

Thus, as a preview, I now introduce “The Maniacal Traveler.” The next time you see this blog, “The Maniacal Traveler” will be the title (I think….).  It’s still me, so please don’t banish me to your junk mail.

I’ve been making lists all winter, trying to capture the “essence” of my blog and my writing.  I also wanted a title that is unique and catchy.  If you google “Random History,” at least a dozen sites will pop up, none of them mine. But I haven’t found a single site called “The Maniacal Traveler.”

I don't always have a drink in hand, but my mother, sister, and I celebrated an excellent meal together at an adventure in Boston. The drink concoction was called a "Hot Tub"and it was maniacally good.

I don’t always have a drink in hand, but my mother, sister, and I celebrated an excellent meal together at an adventure in Boston. The drink concoction was called a “Hot Tub”and it was maniacally good.

Besides being a little bit of a pun on Maine, The Maniacal Traveler can cover a lot of ground, including travel of all kinds, time travel/history, and mind travel (as in random musings).

I also like the idea of mania because sometimes I do get a bit maniacal about organizing and planning adventures.  And I think Maniacal Traveler has that “edginess” that may grab the attention of internet readers while simultaneously transforming maniacal from a sinister word (as in maniacal killer) to one that celebrates a mania for living every day to the fullest.

Plus, wouldn’t the world be a better place with more maniacal readers, writers, hikers, and travelers?

The snow is about three feet deep in the mountains, but it won't be long before I can start doing some maniacal hiking. These steep ladders climb straight up Mt. Willey.

The snow is about three feet deep in the mountains, but it won’t be long before I can start doing some maniacal hiking. These steep ladders climb straight up Mt. Willey.

Right now I feel especially manic with my writing and traveling.  My files are full of drafts about Thin Mints, Alaska, friendships, hiking, and history.  I’m also maniacally copyediting my book, Pioneer on a Mountain Bike, which will be published later this spring by Piscataqua Press.  Add in a pending visit from a Japanese exchange student, my first stress test/echocardiogram, and a good dose of spring skiing, and “The Maniacal Traveler” definitely feels right.  So does a nap.

Your thoughts and feedback on this name change are much appreciated.  The Maniacal Traveler promises she won’t come stalking.

 

When the cold fails, try the warmth

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Five things to do instead of skiing during New Mexico’s worst drought ever

I am probably the only person in the United States who was disappointed by snowfall totals this winter.  Specifically in New Mexico, where we made plans for a sunny ski trip in February (see here for more) .  When we arrived, the snowfall total from January to mid-February at Taos Ski Valley was a skimpy (by mountain standards) 39 inches. By contrast, average annual snowfall at TSV is 305 inches.  So we did a quick turnaround in our minds, from ski trip to road trip.  Here’s a sampler of the fun.

1. Visit Taos Pueblo

Although in a constant state of rebuilding, the pueblo at Taos Pueblo has been inhabited for more than 1000 years. Now that's history!

Although in a constant state of rebuilding, the mud brick pueblo at Taos Pueblo has been inhabited for more than 1000 years.  The Pueblo is considered the oldest continuously inhabited community in the U.S. Now that’s history!

Taos Pueblo, home of the Taos Pueblo people,  is one of the few UNESCO World Heritage historic/cultural sites that is also a living, breathing community, although the winter population drops in the Pueblo drops to about 100 people.  (Many more dwell in modern homes on the surrounding tribal land).

Although residents no longer enter and exit their homes through holes in the roofs (doors have been added), the Pueblo has neither electricity or running water. Water is hauled from the stream that runs through the Pueblo.

Residents no longer enter and exit their homes through holes in the roofs (doors have been added), but the Pueblo lacks both electricity or running water. Water is hauled from the stream that runs through the Pueblo. Living here is not for the faint of heart.

 

The church in the Pueblo was built in xxx, after the Spanish-built church was destroyed in XX.

The San Geronimo Church in the Pueblo was built in 1850, after U.S. Army destroyed the Spanish church that dated to 1706.  The Spanish built the first San Geronimo in 1619, but this original church was destroyed during the Pueblo Revolt of 1680.

Although the Pueblo welcomes visitors and everyone we met was friendly and hospitable, the Pueblo people guard their heritage. Visitors are welcome at rituals and ceremonies, but absolutely no photos are allowed during these events.  Brochures and other materials remind visitors not to interrupt ceremonies with questions or comments.

Today the Pueblo is striving for a balance between cultural tourism and community preservation, but for most of their history, what the Pueblo people most wanted was to be left alone. Although not warriors by tradition, they were definitely willing to fight for the right to self-government.

The Pueblo people were conquered by the Spanish around 1615, but revolted twice, in 1640, and then again during the 1680 Pueblo Revolt that spread through all of New Mexico’s pueblo communities. They held off the Spanish for 16 years before being defeated in 1696.  Later, in the 1770s, repeated attacks on the pueblo by the Comanche led the Pueblo people to seek Spanish protection.  The Comanches also scared the hell out of the Spanish and prevented expansion of their empire, but Spanish soldiers were able to protect Taos, a small island of Spain in a vast land ruled by the Comanche.  Lots of history happening out here in the West while the American Revolution was heating up in Boston.

The site of the 1706 San Geronimo Church. The church was destroyed during xxx by the U.S. Army during the second Pueblo revolt.

The site of the 1706 San Geronimo Church. In 1847, the U.S. Army destroyed the church, where women, children and elderly had taken shelter, in retaliation for the murder of New Mexico territorial Governor Charles Bent. Bent was killed by a group of townspeople and Native Americans during an attempted revolt against the U.S. government, which had just taken control of New Mexico during the Mexican-American War.

2. Check out the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge formerly known as New Mexico’s Bridge-to-Nowhere

View of the Gorge from the bridge.

View of the Rio Grande Gorge from the bridge, 650 feet above the river.

Just a few miles outside of Taos, the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge spans a narrow canyon carved by the river.  When the three-span steel continuous-deck-truss structure was completed in 1965, the feds ran out of funds to build a road, so until the 1970s, when U.S. Route 64 was rerouted through Taos, the bridge was called the Bridge to Nowhere.

The bridge definitely goes somewhere today–Route 64 ends at the Four Corners of New Mexico, Colorado, Arizona and Utah–but we didn’t follow that road.  We did take in the amazing views and hiked for a mile or so on the West Rim Trail that hugs the gorge for nine miles (18 miles RT).  It was great to be out hiking in the scrubland in mild temperatures.

After our visit to the Gorge Bridge, we traveled by car and foot to the bottom of the Gorge.

After our visit to the bridge, we traveled by car and foot to the bottom of the Gorge in search of hot springs.

3. Soak in natural hot springs

Not sure if I really want this photo of me in my bathing suit on the Internet, but the hot springs sure were nice. The springs are clothing-optional and most opt out, but teenagers and nude parents do not make a good match.

I’m not sure if I really want this photo of me in my bathing suit on the Internet, but Black Rock Hot Springs sure were nice. The springs are clothing-optional and most opt out, but teenagers and nude parents do not make a good match.

After our hike along the Gorge, we used a combination of local directions and iPhone GPS (never to be completely trusted in rural areas) to navigate our way on a rough dirt road to the John Dunn Bridge and the Black Rock Hot Springs.

Although not that far from the homes of Arroyo Hondo, the bottom of the Gorge felt very isolated and a little bit spooky.  I reminded myself that these hot springs are well-known to locals and likely to be populated by mellow bathers rather than Deliverance-style killers.

We did run into a few naked people, but they weren’t carrying spears, and were quite friendly and polite.  After they finished their soak (the pool was pretty full of people), we took our turn and enjoyed sitting in the 97 degree water while the Rio Grande flowed past us on its way to the Mexican-American border.  Eventually, a local mom and her four-year-old daughter joined us, thus quelling any lingering notions that a drug-addled maniac was about to burst forth from behind a rock.

Memories of Charles Manson mingled with those from the movie Easy Rider to fuel my paranoia.  The scene in which Dennis Hopper and Peter Hopper go skinny dipping with two girls from a hippie commune was filmed at nearby Stagecoach Springs Hot Springs (also called Manby Hot Springs).  Although nothing chilling occurs in that particular scene, the audience senses impending danger as the two men continue on their journey.  Fortunately, from our hot spring pool, we had a clear view of the trail to the parking spot and would at least spot the killers before they sprang upon us.

The commercial hot springs at Ojo Caliente also looked tempting and everyone recommended them, but we decided against more driving on a hot springs quest and opted for soaking in the hot tub at our rental.  Something to leave for the next visit.

4. Hike Devisadero Peak in the “off-season”

On the Deviserado Loop Trail (about five miles and fairly easy), we had great views of Wheeler Peak, New Mexico's highest at 13,159 feet. If we had been better prepared for hiking, we probably could have completed the trek up to Wheeler. Typically the mountain would be drenched in snow at this time of year.

On the Deviserado Loop Trail (about five miles and fairly easy), we had great views of Wheeler Peak, New Mexico’s highest at 13,159 feet. If we had been better prepared for hiking, we probably could have completed the trek up to Wheeler. Typically the mountain would be drenched in snow at this time of year.

Relaxing at the summit in a grove of pinon and juniper trees. Someone built these Adirondack chairs from rocks. The chairs were a bit chilly, but we didn't mind.

Relaxing at the summit in a grove of pinon and juniper trees. Someone built these Adirondack chairs from rocks. The chairs were a bit chilly, but we didn’t mind. Back in Maine, we call these temps “spring.”

“Devisadero” means “lookout point” or place. The Pueblo Indians once used the great views from the peak to stand guard against Apache raiders.

During the spring, summer, and fall, hikers and mountain bikers pack the trail, but only a few hardy hikers, bundled up in jackets, hats, and mittens, were out on the 40 degree-ish morning that we climbed the mountain. We had the 8,304-foot summit to ourselves.  It wasn’t really warm enough for shorts, but my son dons them whenever the temps top 40, hence his nickname, “The Seal.”

5. Find your way to Tent Rocks National Monument.

Some of the so-called "tent rocks." Millions of years ago, volcanic eruptions left a 1000-foot thick layer of pumice, ash and tuff deposits, which have gradually eroded to form these conical hoodoos and other formations.

Some of the so-called “tent rocks.” Millions of years ago, volcanic eruptions left a 1000-foot thick layer of pumice, ash and tuff deposits, which have gradually eroded to form these conical hoodoos and other intriguing formations.

On our last weekend in New Mexico, a late-arriving email tip sent me to the map to look for Tent Rocks National Monument.  I am soooo glad we found this surreal place, which had me looking for Hobbits and wondering if a dragon might slither around a corner.

Playing in the slot canyons of Tent Rocks. During a heavy rain, these canyons become raging streams.

Playing in the slot canyons of Tent Rocks. During a heavy rain, these canyons can become raging streams.

At Tent Rocks, we hiked along a sandy trail that led past hoodoos with rocks balanced on their points; slot canyons with walls that rose hundreds of feet; and an ancient cave where someone camped out hundreds of years ago.  Eventually we climbed to a high plateau for great views.

Tent Rocks is another “middle-of-nowhere” place, but only about 40 miles from Albuquerque, so it was quite busy with hikers of all stripes and ages when we visited.  Be sure to bring water on your trip (or fill up at the gas station/sub shop/store in the tiny town of Cochiti Lake), as no water is available at Tent Rocks.

 

Okay, my subtitle reads “five things to do,” but I need to highlight one more item for the list:  Relax.

Lounge around at the rental.  Watch sunsets.  Read books.  Surf on the internet and read more about the Southwest in Travels with The Blond Coyote, by New Mexico-based Mary Caperton Morton,who travels all over the United States living in a tiny TearDrop trailer.

Plan your next trip.  Forget the skis, remember the sunscreen.  Rinse, and repeat.

Pueblo cat, outside one of the small gift shops. Internet cats get lots of love, I've learned!

Pueblo cat, outside one of the small gift shops. Internet cats get lots of love, I’ve learned!

Sources and resources

Directions to natural hot springs in the Taos vicinity.

Trail maps for Deviserado Peak

More info on Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument (Take note: no dogs allowed).

Missing my (Wild)Cat: Skittering on New Mexico’s ski slopes

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Ready to skitter down the slope at Taos. Note blue skies, warm sun.

Ready to skitter down the slope at Taos. Note blue skies, warm sun. In the background, 12,481-foot Kachina Peak.

Here in New England, skiers are familiar with what I call the “skitter” – the combination of a clattering sound and a slipping movement a skier experiences when she is cruising down a slope and suddenly encounters a patch of hard-packed snow-ice.  The best skiers hardly notice the ice and continue flying straight down the hill.  Others dig their edges into the ice and carve a turn.

But on the skitter, I choke.  I try to ski uphill.  Or I slide sideways across the icy patch, and then try to slip down the slope inch by inch, all while praying that the slope angle levels out a bit.  Sometimes I stop dead in the middle of the ice and try not to cry.

I’ve been working on the “lean in and carve” technique, but I was really looking forward to skitter-free skiing in Taos, New Mexico, the fabled land of fluffy white powder.  Although I once spent New Year’s  skitter-skiing in the Lake Tahoe region (where conditions are often similar to New England’s), I had never skied in “real” Western ski country: the powdery mountains of Utah, Colorado, or Taos.  Taos Ski Valley has a reputation as an expert’s mountain, but the trail map showed plenty of blue and green trails.  We could also visit other nearby areas, like Red River and Angel  Fire.

I also wanted sun.  With 300 days of sunshine per year, Taos was sure to deliver.

We left Boston’s Logan Airport just in time to get out of the way of a snowstorm heading to New England–a storm that eventually dropped 15 inches of powder in the White Mountains.  Although the snow had been falling here in the Seacoast all winter, the storms were mostly coastal events.  Throughout January,  the mountains up north were pretty bare, with lots of skitter potential.  But the weather pattern changed in February.  The snow kept coming and coming.

Meanwhile, out in New Mexico, the land was and is bone dry.  The state is having its worst drought since record keeping began.  The mountains had some snow early in the winter, but it has barely rained or snowed in New Mexico all winter.   The result: The. Worst. Ski. Conditions. Ever.

I WAS ready to panic when I saw the double-black diamond trails in front of the main lodge.

I WAS ready to panic when I saw the double-black diamond trails in front of the main lodge.

The land surrounding Taos is rugged and beautiful, with mountains rising from scrubby plains.  But the conditions at Taos Ski Valley were abysmal.  Although the mountain does offer green and blue terrain, it definitely merits its reputation as a place for expert skiers. The experts like to hike up a steep ridge (after getting off a lift) so that they can  ski from 12,481-feet Kachina Peak down steep cliffs into a bowl full of soft powder.

This year, the bowl had only a thin lining of snow, but on our two visits to the mountain, plenty of hard-core skiers were hiking on the ridge to challenge themselves on the steep icy terrain.  Some even considered it fun.

I never intended to ski down from Kachina Peak, although my husband probably would have given it a go if the conditions were better.  But I was looking forward to cruising down blue trails under sunny skies.   We had the sun, but the blues were steeper than what I’m used to and very very icy.  Lots of skittering; one burst of crying and profanities.

The poor ski conditions couldn't take anything away from the charm of the Taos avalanche rescue dogs. The dogs continue their training, but haven't seen much action this year, which is probably a good thing.

The poor ski conditions couldn’t take anything away from the charm of the Taos avalanche rescue dogs. The dogs continue their training, but haven’t seen much action this year, which is probably a good thing.

The green trails mostly consisted of thin roadways linking various expert ledges and bowls, and were very very icy.  Although I felt confident negotiating these trails, the conditions were unnerving:  imagine sliding along ice on a flat narrow trail with steep double-black diamond drop-offs to one side.  As an intermediate skier, I felt like I had to be constantly vigilant, ready to dig in.  I couldn’t relax.  Oh well.  After the skiing, a hot tub awaited.

We stayed in a great little rental guesthouse in Arroyo Seco that once had been the three-car garage for actress Julia Roberts, before she sold the property to the current owners.   The views were wide and sweeping.  Just after dark, a million stars glowed in the sky.  Later at night, the moon rose and glowed above the mountains.

I loved watching the moonrise at sunset from the porch of our cozy rental in Arroyo Seco.

I loved watching the moonrise at sunset from the porch of our cozy rental in Arroyo Seco.

We did lots of other things during our stay in Taos (See my next blog post, Five things to do instead of skiing during New Mexico’s worst drought ever).

People who live in Taos can’t imagine living anywhere else.  As our host explained, after living for years in wide-open country with views of the mountains, she feels claustrophobic when she returns to the tree-shrouded East.

I too love those open views, the way the moonlight lights up the wide sky.  But after more than a week in New Mexico, I missed my woods, the coziness of being surrounded by hundreds of tree.  I missed my mountains, where the lifts take me to the summits for 360-degree views, and blue and green trails lead me to the bottom.

During our stay in New Mexico, the snow continued falling back East.  In Pinkham Notch, at Wildcat Mountain, the Polecat top-to-bottom trail was soft with new snow.  Skiers were sliding easily through the Wild Kitten tunnel.  The weather was probably bitterly cold and gray, and the visibility near zero, but it would feel like home.  The snow would make me brave enough to try the black diamonds.  If I skittered on upper Lynx, I could deal, because I know where the steep pitch levels out.

Lesson learned: If I am going to skitter-ski, I want to skitter on home territory–not only do I know the lay of the land, but the skittering is cheaper and more convenient.

Fortunately it hasn’t snowed since our return. The temperatures remain low, and the snow has been  hard-packed into concrete ice by all those skiers who enjoyed the February storms. I can hardly wait to get to the mountains.

P.S. As I was fine-tuning this post, we had a mid-March storm that dumped two feet of snow in the White Mountains.  Talk about crushing my soul!  How am I going to practice my carve and turn in these conditions?

No snow, no worries, not with sunny skies, great views, and a warm picnic table for lounging. Julia Roberts, who formerly owned this property, now owns a house at the end of ditch. No sitings during our stay in Arroyo Seco, but we weren't really looking for her.

No snow, no worries, not with sunny skies, great views, and a warm picnic table for lounging. Julia Roberts, who formerly owned this property, now owns a house at the end of ditch. No sitings during our stay in Arroyo Seco, but we weren’t really looking for her.

The boys howl, and I crack the whip

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This teddy bear was innocent until the boys transformed him into something evil.

This teddy bear was innocent until the boys transformed him into something evil.

As the toxic smell of spray paint drifts up from the basement and splotches of red paint dry on my hardwood floor, I ask myself, how is it possible that men still rule the world?

For the past seven years, I have coached a group of kids, most of them boys, in Odyssey of the Mind, a creativity/problem-solving program that coaches love to hate.  This year, for the third time, I’m coaching an all-boy team of four seventh graders and a sixth grader.  The boys are developing a skit about a traveler who visits an unknown place which he perceives as a threat to his community; the skit includes a set that moves without direct human power.

I’ve known these boys since they were six or seven years old.  I know them well.  They love PVC pipe, spray paint, and explosions, real or imaginary.  They also love the idea of winning–but only if they don’t have to work too hard.  Instead of “thinking out of the box,” they often struggle to think their way out of a paper bag, mostly because they can’t be bothered.

Odyssey of the Mind has taught me that when I retire, I definitely don’t want to spend my time “working with children.”  These boys often drive me crazy.  They bang hammers on dining room tables.  They leave hot glue guns burning on plastic tarps.  They splatter paint and paper maché mixture all over the floor.  

The purple glitter lumps are rock candy crystals. The yellow lumps are corn cobs. The mess is 100% middle school boy.

The purple glitter lumps are rock candy crystals. The yellow lumps are corn cobs. The mess is 100% middle school boy.

The boys have progressed/matured a little bit from last year.  So far, no one has shut my cat in a box and forgotten about him.  Pencil hurling mostly has stopped.  The kid who used to pick up anything dangerous (a two-by-four, a section of pipe) and absent-mindedly swing it around has departed.

Still, I know I can’t leave the boys to their own devices for long, because without supervision, they will take a PVC pipe that I purchased for them and cut into it without taking any measurements, or considering how they will get four cuts from one length.  One will grab a beautiful piece of large cardboard scavenged from a local store for use as a set backdrop, and cut a hole, right in the middle.  They are good at ruining things.

Why cut a readily available smaller piece of cardboard when you can destroy a large piece the team had intended to use as a set backdrop?

Why cut a readily available smaller piece of cardboard when you can destroy a large piece the team had intended to use as a set backdrop?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As the mother of a mild-mannered only son, I am not used to yelling at kids, or even being stern.  But in March, as we get closer to our tournament, I ask the boys if they want me to crack the whip.  I can crack it or not, I explain, but you guys aren’t winning anything if you don’t stop fooling around.  They always say yes, please, crack away.  They know themselves well.  So the filters come off.

“Stop swinging that knife, NOW.”

“Do you really think the judges want to hear about how you want to kill your brother?”

“WHY are you standing with your dirty feet on the backdrop?”

Odyssey is a Do-It-Yourself program for kids.  The rules prohibit adults from telling the kids what to do and from doing things for them.  However, we can teach them skills (this is HOW you use a drill without putting a hole in your eyeball), and we can ask questions that help them to devise solutions.  Early on these questions fall well within the program guidelines:  “How else could you support the structure?”  “How you could create the illusion of an exploding volcano?”

But by mid-March, my questions are more direct, perhaps bordering on the forbidden “outside assistance.”

“Is that really all you are going to do with that set?”

“Which team do you think is going to earn more points, the team that makes creative costumes, or the team that doesn’t bother with costumes?”

“Do you think these unpainted cardboard boxes look like a castle?”

Behold, the golden statue of the Gummy Bear leader. Even I have to admit that the boys did a pretty good job fashioning him from a plastic bottle, nubs of PVC pipe, and a Pokemon ball.

Behold, the golden statue of the Gummy Bear leader. Even I have to admit that the boys did a pretty good job fashioning him from a plastic bottle, nubs of PVC pipe, and a Pokemon ball.

Right now the pressure is on. Every room in my house is full of backdrops, structures built from PVC pipe, and drying paper maché.  Debris from exploding party poppers litters the floor. These are the times that try coaches’ souls, the times we love to hate.

The boys love this program, which is why I continue to coach.  How often do you see teenaged boys gleefully running around pretending to be Gummy Bears?  Or taking pleasure in transforming a stuffed teddy bear from innocent to evil?  Or building a giant’s lair which they secretly hope they can transform into their own personal lair once the competition is over?

Next Saturday, the kids will compete.  Instead of pulling things apart, they will pull it together to work as a team, and pull off a flawless performance.  I know the outcome will be great.  Even so, we may or may not make it to the State competition, or to the World Finals in Iowa.  The girls will probably rule.

But perhaps not.  The boys have a knack for getting the judges to laugh out loud.  While the girls spend hours working on elaborate costumes for a few bonus points, the boys practice the art of hitting the most points for the least work.  Who wouldn’t want that skill?

Also, seventh grade boys who willingly become Gummy Bears don’t care what other people think.  They’re doing what they want to do.  Other people’s expectations or definitions of “cool” do not concern them.  They please themselves, rather than trying to please others.

Maybe these strengths explain why men still the rule the world.  At least that’s what I tell myself, if only to push away the future image of a slacker son working just enough hours making YouTube videos to pay his cell phone bill and contribute a few bucks in room and board for living in his parents’ basement.

Wait–not the basement.  It’s full of cardboard and PVC pipe.  Besides, the WiFi reception down there is terrible.  And the lair slides so easily into the family room with the wide-screen TV.

P.S. Just to be clear: I don’t wish for me to continue ruling the world, or for women to take over—sharing power between the genders is definitely the goal.  I just wonder how this fact is still possible, given my experience in working with these boys.