Math Fest: Games and Classic Books

Math can be fun. No seriously, give me a chance to prove it. I don't claim to make you love calculus (bleh, I can't even wrap my head around that), but I think I can surprise you. . .

thanks publicdomainpictures.net

Here's a funny little trivia thing to make you scratch your head. When I look at my blog stats, one of my ten most popular posts is: Math Classics. I looked at that post (from 5 years ago) to tell you my favorites, you know the ones that have lasted "the test of time" and all that...but I still love them all. So check it out!

In that old post, I mentioned my idea for a Math Fest. Why not? Spellling Bee's are pretty popular, and spelling is boring. Ok, important, but for me, boring. Math is cool.

What is a Math Fest? Well, since I made it up, it can be whatever we decide it is. I have some ideas to get us started. My dream of Math Fest is basically a math carnival. I'm losing you aren't I? Come back! This is not the math your teachers tortured you with in school.

We could begin with Math Games and Activities from Around the World by Claudia Zaslavsky. You can make the games she talks describes with cardstock and some of those decorative marbles (not round marbles, but the ones with one side that is flat that people put in plants and fishtanks...all the box stores have them). Or your kids would love it if you use M&Ms, but you might have to keep replacing the pieces. Seriously, check out this book, even if you don't have children. It's that fun.

Chess. No Math Fest would be complete without chess! "But chess doesn't have numbers," you say. That's right. Neither do the games in Ms. Zaslavsky's book, that's because math is more than numbers. Math is logic, and math is fun. Don't just limit yourself to traditional chess though, after all this is a math carnival. How about some Chess 4? After wanting this game for a LONG time, I finally bought it, and I'm so glad. The kids and I had a blast with it last weekend. All the same rules apply, but now you have 3 opponents instead of 1. It is mind-boggling, yes! And if you are feeling really daring, how about Strato Chess. THAT is going on my Christmas Wish List, you know, just in case you were wondering.

I suppose we can have some "numbers" at our Math Fest, but only if it's fun! All right?

Thanks publicdomainpictures.net

So for those of you that want numbers, don't miss Muggins/Knock Out. My 6 yr old just learned to play Knock Out this summer and he is thrilled. He thinks we're just having fun (shhh! don't tell him he's learning his math facts!)

And our Math Fest will not be complete without Mancala. Some historians believe that Mancala is the world's oldest game. You can buy a game, you could make one with an empty egg carton and M&Ms, or you can even get a Mancala App. (Yep, I have mine!)

Now that you are checking your calendar and pondering locations for your Math Fest, here's a list from a helpful mom at amazon, with more math games. Thanks JoAnn! 

Oh, and don't forget to have some of those Math Classics lying around at your Math Fest, and in your home.

For Your Bucket List

Ok, I cannot handle seriousness all the time here on the blog, so this week’s post is something different, something fun. 

Something for your Bucket List.  

Yep, I want to help you with that all important list of lists.  First, let’s make sure we’re on the same page.  A bucket list is a list of things you want to do before you “kick the bucket.”   You have one don’t you?  If you don’t, that’s ok, I’m here to help you get started.   

publicdomainpictures.net

Being an amateur sociologist, I love anything and everything about cultures.  So when I stumbled upon a trivia question about the Lumberjack World Championships, and the Okie Noodling Festival…I was hooked.

In a heartbeat I was planning future family vacations, and “googling”. Here, I must confess that I was very disappointed, to learn that the Okie Noodling Festival has nothing to do with pasta.  I love pasta.  Don’t you?  But no, it’s actually about catching catfish your bare hands.   *crosses that one off the list*

Not deterred by that minor setback, I began searching for other interesting festivals to visit.  Visiting all 50 states is already on my Bucket List, so why not visit a cool festival while I am there, right?

I found a very helpful website, festivals.com that gave me info about festivals all over the US.  Most festivals appear to revolve around music.  That’s cool, I like music, but I was looking for something a little more unusual like lumberjacks and well, you know, pasta.

So the search continued.  I reasoned that perhaps it would be helpful to start close to home.  Easier on the budget and all that, so I searched for “Montana festivals” with the Marie Osmond/Dan Seals song, “Meet me in Montana” playing on the radio of my mind.  And I gotta tell ya, Montana has a festival that should be on everyone’s Bucket List.  How could we possibly have lived this long without experiencing it?  Do you have a pen and paper handy?  Cause you don’t want to miss this…

It’s the Testicle Festival.  I’m so not kidding.  That is actually what it is called.  It’s all about Rocky Mountain Oysters served with cowboy beans.  They boast of two and a half tons of this gourmet food being served along with music and adult activities.  Hmmm. . .(crossing another one off the List, where’s the pasta?).

Then I thought perhaps I should check the South West (my family lives there, I could kill two birds and all that...).  And I found the Festival of Festivals.  Get your pencil (yeah really!)  It's the:

Sweetwater Rattlesnake Roundup

Oh yeah!  The festival begins with Bouny Hunters who for $5 lb round up rattle snakes, straight from their dens.  Then they "milk" them, which in this case has nothing to do with mammary glands.  Once they are milked they hold them out for the audience to see...and touch!   

There is a "lion-tamer" type show where they demonstrate irritating a rattler and how fast they can strike.  That sounds safe, right? Bad day for the snakes, who are taken off set, as it were and killed. They are then returned and skinned before a live audience.  The skins and meat are sold to happy buyers. All this for only a $6 entrance fee.   We've already missed it this year, sorry about that!  But you can see pictures HERE.

And here's a little something for your fridge:

publicdomainpictures.net

I have to be honest, snakes squick me out…so I might be better off sticking with festivals.coms and the music festivals.  To be fair, they also listed cultural festivals and historical rendezvous’ that sounded fascinating.  I’d list them, but honestly- there were too many, and they just weren’t funny (criminal isn’t it?)  But do check them out for your list.

And if you know of any “don’t miss” festivals, be sure and let me know.  Particularly, if pasta is involved.

Just Three Words...

A long time ago, I think even before I started school, children were taught to read with Dick and Jane books.  Even if you aren't old enough to remember them you have likely heard of them.  They went something like this: 

See Dick run.  See Jane run.  See Spot.  Spot runs with Dick and Jane.

I mention this because I am taking an on-line writing class about journaling and memoirs.  For the class I had an assignment to write about a 10 yr period of my life, but each sentence could only have three words.  Just three words.  It's hard!  Four would have made all the difference, but phew, three was tough.  I was struggling with it until I got the idea to take some liberties with grammar.  After all that is what the writing books say, "Experts sometimes break the rules, but they know what the rules are."  That means it's ok to break the rules as long as I know I am doing it, right?  Ok, maybe not. 
Anyway, this is just silly, but I thought it would be fun to share.  Can't let things get TOO serious around here!

Leslie's Life in Three Words

I move Winslow. See friend Charice. We work prison. We are officers. We talk inmates. We work hard. We date boys. We have fun. We get bored. Want more money. Want to date. Want more boys. Think, think, think. Move to Nevada? Nevada pay more. Think, think, think. Move to Alaska? Alaska pay more. Alaska have men. Lots of men. Think, no...move. Move to Alaska. 

Live in Anchorage. I love Anchorage. We meet boys. We have adventures. We are tourists. We find jobs. We work half-way-house. Happy, happy, happy. Job offer Bethel. What to do? Good job. Good money. Boring, no men. Think, think, think. Think some more. Don't want move. But money good. Career move good. Think, think, think. Sigh and move. 

Bethel is cold. Bethel is dark. Bethel is Hell. Don't like Bethel. Bethel is lonely. Job is good. Job pay well. I like job. I hate Bethel. Bethel hates me. Below 80 degrees. Winter is cold. Summer is mosquitoes. I hate Bethel. Met ONE guy. He very handsome. He was jerk. Probably still jerk. Yes, jerk always. Lonely, cold, miserable. I hate Bethel. 

Met nice woman. She have son. He single. She say meet. I say ok. One problem. He live Oregon. We laugh. Snow, snow, snow. Cold, cold, cold. Dark, dark, dark. I hate Bethel. I need vacation. I fly Oregon. See my friend. She say meet. Meet my son. I say ok. Why not?

Meet son. He is handsome. He is nice. I like him. He like me? Maybe, probably yes. He say write. Write letters. I say ok. I return Bethel. I write letters. He write one. Maybe two. Bad boy. I move Oregon. We date. Much better.

We date. We kiss. We date. He is happy. I am happy. I ready marry. He thinks. And thinks. And thinks. I wait. Wait, wait, wait. Then he thinks. I wait. Then he proposes. I say maybe. Not. I say yes. I happy. He happy. His mom happy. We plan wedding. We marry April. Everyone happy.

Soon I pregnant. He thrilled. I thrilled. Pregancy long. Finally baby come. It's a boy. We are family! Everyone is happy.

________________
P.S. This does not actually cover a 10 yr period, I cheated on that too.  BUT my teacher said I did "a great job", so maybe cheating isn't so bad after all?  Shhh! Don't tell my kids.

True Confessions

Dear Friends, I escaped the sinkhole that I was in when I wrote last, only to slip into another one...sigh.

Sometimes I think my life is divided into good days and bad days.  On good days, I have pain, but also have hope that someday will be better.  On bad days, I have pain and no hope.  Guess what kind of day I am having today...

I can't write today...it's dark down here...but I have something I have been working on...when I had an actual good day (happiness without pain...that does happen, it is just hard to remember sometimes...)

I hope you will enjoy this.  First confession...I got this idea from another blog!

I confess....

I have gone to Dairy Queen, right after working out at the gym (I know, I know)

I love Jane Eyre but I'm bored by Jane Austen.

I would give a stranger the shirt off my back, but I wouldn't give my last piece of chocolate to my own child...

I have a thing for rogues...I particularly love Captain Jack.

I hate the color orange. My Bishop has an orange tie and everytime I see him sitting in front of the congregation wearing it, I just want to have Dart Practice!

Sometimes I listen to my music louder than my teenagers do. They are very embarassed by this...they say it wouldn't be so bad if I didn't do it while driving a mini-van...

That's it...any confessions YOU want to share?  I dare you...

Enchanted Walk

Living in the Northwest, a simple walk on a local trail can feel like a fairy tale...


Every fairy tale needs a damsel in distress...enter Shelab...

 She's really a baby...and I mean in age and temperment.  She needs some socialization, as she is afraid of everyone and everything we see on the trail.  "Shelab, c'mon that squirrel won't hurt you."  Isn't she pretty, though?!  In the magic of the woods, she becomes "Beauty".



Follow this stream to a castle where it is said there lives....a Beast.





On the way to the castle you must cross over this bridge...

  I hear there are three Billy Goat brothers that help people over the bridge.  I don't know why.  It looks like a harmless bridge to me.


You might think these are logs, but don't dally to long in the forest or you might get tired and lie down....


Now I know this is not a "photography blog"  and I am not a photographer...but admit it - you loved the pictures!  Stay tuned, we'll be back to your regularly scheduled programming shortly!


Ok, ok, since you asked...one more...


If this isn't "Happily Ever After" then I don't know what is...

The feeling I have out on the trail reminds me of this quote:

"Every day I see or hear something that more or less kills me with delight, that leaves me like a needle in a haystack of light.  It was what I was born for - to look, to listen, to lose myself inside this soft world - to instruct myself over and over in joy and acclamation..." Mary Oliver

Why I love my Therapist

Therapy is serious business and it can be really hard work.  But there is...a lighter side.

Why I love my Therapist...

Who else would listen to me "yammer on" for an hour at a time, week after week and not fall asleep?

Who else would nod and say, "So you are mad that the dog chewed up your favorite shoes."  He really gets me!

I tell him things that I think are crazy (you would too if I told you!) but he assures me that I am not crazy.  That is worth the cost of therapy right there!  (Psst, tell me again that I am NOT crazy and I will tip you an extra $20.)

I tell him about nightmares that I am certain reveal me to be a pyschopath in embryo, and he doesn't suddenly declare his retirement and refer me to another therapist.

I talk, he listens.  He doesn't judge.  He is always there.  He never seems to get tired of listening to me.

What would I do without him?  I guess I could get a dog...come to think of it, that would be cheaper...but a dog couldn't say, "You are not crazy.  What happened to you was crazy.  Your response is normal." 

Yeah, I love my Therapist.

An Unusual Christmas List

One day I was tiding up and saw this paper lying on the table.  It was signed my daughter.

Christmas is coming up and you know what I want. . .

Cheese from the moon
Cotton candy pillows
Pears from Mars
A Martian friend
The pot of gold from the end of a rainbow - just the pot made of gold, no gold!
An umbrella for a petite doll
1 pne needle from the tallest pine tree
A bucket of rain-water
A leaf from the Amazon

And you thought your shopping list was difficult...

Much Ado About Nothing or Lessons I Learned Over the Weekend

Saturday: After the yearly church Halloween party, I was taking the kids home. Apparently, the extra load of candy was too much and we blew a tire. Wouldn’t you know, this was the one time I left the house without my cell phone. Fortunately, we were reasonably close to the house and one of my teenage sons was in the car. Run, boy, run.

Lesson #1 When you forget your cell phone, a teenage boy will do in a pinch.

Sunday: With the “donut” spare tire, I loaded up the family to go to church. This time we were carrying the Halloween candy internally, but still it was too much. The donut blew! Once again, I didn’t have my cell phone (I know, I know). Sent teenage son home to get “Dad” who was coming to church in another vehicle.

Lesson #2 Never trust a donut (tire or pastry), and always carry a teenager for emergencies.

Monday: Teenage son rolls old tire down the street to put in the van with bad donut. He lets it roll ahead of him and it lands in a huge puddle. Teenager wades in after it, muttering "hey you!". Mom laughs very hard.

Lesson #3 Teenagers can be great entertainment

Called AAA to get towed to the tire store. A delightful young man with an accent I didn’t recognize came to rescue me. I wanted to ask him what his native language was, but wasn’t sure if that would be rude. Maybe he gets asked that all the time and is tired of it. “Impulsive” is my middle name, though, so I ask, “Would you mind if I ask where you are from? I love your accent.” I really did! He rewarded me with a handsome smile, “Russia.” This led to a very delightful conversation, for both of us, about his home (8 hr train ride from Moscow!) and his family.

Lesson #4 You really can’t go wrong asking people to talk about themselves if your interest is genuine.

In summary…ban Halloween, ban candy, ban donut tires. Embrace teenage boys, and nice young men from Russia (especially if they are cute like my Russian tow truck driver was). Oh, and beware of crazy moms who might turn your life into a blog post.

Thanks for all your help this weekend, Son!

On the Lighter Side

Time for something on the lighter side...I didn't write this, but I really like it.  (Does that count?)

Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon. A happiness weapon. A beauty bomb. And every time a crisis developed, we would launch one. It would explode high in the air - explode softly - and send thousands, millions, of little parachutes into the air. Floating down to earth - boxes of Crayolas. And we wouldn't go cheap, either - not little boxes of eight. Boxes of sixty-four, with the sharpener built right in. With silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and lime, amber and umber and all the rest. And people would smile and get a little funny look on their faces and cover the world with imagination. ~Robert Fulghum

My Wish For You: Laughter (reposted)

Last week someone told me that my "wonderful sense of humor is like a parachute".  I love that...a parachute can soften the landing, by slowing the fall...  Everyone should have a parachute handy; life is hard work. This is from a year ago, I hope you like it.  Leslie

My Wish For You: Laughter

Today I was listening to my favorite sound, that of my children laughing. They were laughing at their dad because he had done something goofy. Laughter is so important for children, for families.... for everyone, I thought. My husband and I have always said, as long as we have our sense of humor we will be OK.

Which made me wonder, what is it that is so appealing, so healing, so simply wonderful about laughter?

I started to analyze it.

You can't laugh with someone you are angry with. Try to picture that for a moment. Think of the last time you were angry with someone. If they had told you a joke, no matter how funny, you would not have laughed. So laughter signifies good feelings between people. After the apologies are said, laughter can help the mending begin, but it won't be there until some good feeling returns. That explains in part why there is so little of laughter in prison. Oh there is some laughter there, but it is usually the coarse type. An impostor, hopelessly trying to make up for the lack of the real thing. Shudder...anger is cold and dark. Laughter is not only happy it is warmth and love.

How about the last time you were sad, really sad. Could laughter reach you there? Sometimes at funerals people laugh. "Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion," (Steel Magnolias). Even in the darkest of times, laughter has a way of reaching deep down and beginning the healing.

Great friendships can begin with laughter. If I can laugh with someone, I know that is a spark for a potential friendship. In fact, if someone makes me laugh, that is enough to make me want to be their friend.

Remember when you were a kid and you laughed so hard you peed your pants. C'mon admit it, you know you've done it! You're smiling now aren't you? Let's just hope the last time that happened to you was a long, long time ago.

Imagine the laughter that comes from being exhausted. You know what I am talking about. Those times you laughed until you cried about something that was not really that funny, just because you were tired. But oh how good that laughter felt. One of those times for me was when I was in the hospital, after having a baby. My sweet husband brought me flowers. Not cut flowers, but the kind you plant. I took one look at them...pretty but slightly wilted and burst out laughing. I laughed so hard I cried, and the nurse looked at me like she wondered if they had given me too much pain medication. I laughed because I know my husband so well, and I knew he had rescued those flowers from a dumpster somewhere. (Greenhouses can only sell perfect looking plants, and many less-than-perfect but nice plants get thrown away.) Of course, it only made me laugh harder when he feigned innocence to the bewildered nurse. "He brought me Dumpster Flowers" kept running through my mind and I laughed until I couldn't catch my breath. Even today, he pretends not to know what was so funny about that. And I, of course, still laugh. I don't even have to be tired.

Have you ever laughed even when it hurt? I'm not talking about those aching cheek muscles, though I love that one too. I had a c-section with one of my little blessings. My husband took me on my obligatory walk around the hospital floor, and kept making me laugh though I begged him not to. Ow, ow, ow, torture!

Laughter can chase away fear. It can't necessarily keep it away. I think of laughter in this sense more like a yippy lap dog, barking with all it's might than a german shepherd. But it can give you some respite from the fear. That reminds me of the time my husband started comparing my various health issues to what would be the equivalent in a car. At the end of it he concluded with mock sincerity that if I were a car, we would sell me to the junk yard and get something else. Wicked, wicked man! How I love him.

Sometimes we look to laughter simply for entertainment. The best movies, TV shows, books, and even music make us laugh. We must not forget blogs. My favorite blogs are those that intermingle funny posts with serious thought provoking ones.

As I think back over my life and all the tender memories, laughter is often there. It's not in the family photos, but it's there.. Sometimes it is the photographer, sometimes the frame. Yes, maybe that is it. Laughter is the frame that holds our lives together.

I wish you...laughter.

We interupt your regularly scheduled programming...

I'm mentally marinating my next post...a part two of the Ashes of Abuse.  But while I'm pondering, and before I present to you another sad and heavy topic (why did I just get a mental image of a cat placing a dead mouse at his master's feet?)...here is a guest post, something on the lighter side from one of my favorite bloggers, my 11 yr old daughter, Vienna.  This is "fan fiction" she did for a writing class.  Used with permission, of course.

Woman Found In Pumpkin

By Vienna

Peter P. PumpkinEater was arrested this morning for locking his wife, Ms. PumpkinEater in a pumpkin shell. Peter will be pleading his case in court this Wednesday.

The PumpkinEater’s neighbor, Mary was walking in their pumpkin patch searching for her lost lamb. When she heard the voice of Ms. PumpkinEater calling out “Peter, I’m hungry.” Mary rushed to the pumpkin and peered in to see Ms.PumpkinEater.

When we asked the PumpkinEater’s neighbor, the old woman who lives in a shoe, why she didn’t report Peter she told us “I thought they got divorced long ago.” Ms. PumpkinEater’s exact words were “Peter is a cold-hearted, ill-manered, selfish, JERK. He locked me in the pumpkin so he could have the pumpkins all to him self. All he fed me was canned peas. I never want to see that pumpkin eater again ever!”

Peter will be pleading his case in court this Wednesday, claiming he had no choice, he had to protect his pumpkins, keeping her away, for it was all he ate.

Well one thing is for sure Peter will be having a hard time in jail because they certainly don’t serve pumpkins in there.

Check it out...Sumo Ride

I can't NOT share this with you.  Too funny!  (Sorry the link doesn't work any more...it was linked to a news article showing a picture of several bicyclists riding their bikes in sumo wrestler suits.) Oh! Found a new link, I think this one will last longer.  Sumo Ride

All I can say is great minds think alike.

Running the Gaunlet

I have a complaint about gyms. Is it just me or have you noticed that gyms are full of fabulous looking people? How in the world do they manage to wear t-shirts and sweats and still look fabulous? I hate them. No matter what I wear to the gym I feel like a disaster.

Walking into the gym is always the hardest part. Forget the actual work out. It feels like running the gauntlet. I am refering to the gauntlet as in a physical punishment, used by Romans and Native Americans, wherein a man must run between two rows of soldiers (the gauntlet) who strike him as he passes. Of course, as I walk into the gym everyone pretends not to notice. That little voice in my head says me, "they notice alright." And of course, the little voice knows. The little voice always knows.

Why do I have to exercise with those people anyway? I mean there are co-ed gyms and there are gyms for women only. I propose a gym for fat people only. No rock hard abs, or sculpted buns allowed. Only real people, real fat people. Geez.

Which reminds me, my husband is losing weight. Yep, he is and I am so jealous. What is his secret? He rides his bike to work and back everyday, and he watches what he eats. I don't know where he comes up with these crazy ideas, but it is working for him. Someone write a book!

Since it is working so well for him, I thought I would try it too. I suggested to him that I should ride a bike to work also. He got quite a good work out from that...laughing at me. Ok, so it is a few miles to his job and 20 miles to mine. Minor detail. I guess I'll stick with the perfect people at the gym.

About the eating, I watch what I eat. I watch every stress-triggered bite and tell myself, I really shouldn't be eating this. If mental wrestling burned calories, I would be among the perfect people already. I'll just keep working on that one.

An unusual autograph collection

I don't usually write about my own children, but today I just have to make an exception.

I have 5 children, 4 boys and one girl. My daughter, Vienna, is right in the middle. She is a character! A couple years ago she nicknamed her dad, "Poor woodcutter" for reasons we never could quite figure out.

Yesterday she decided to leave a note, some chocolate chips (she didn't have time to make cookies), and some quarters and other change for The Leprechans. I don't know where she got this idea, but last year she left something for them too.

She asked for their autograph, a four leaf clover if possible, some gold dust, a piece of their clothing and an unusual coin. She asked how tall they are and where they live, and "don't say next to the Easter Bunny like the Tooth Fairy did." Oh yes, she has left notes and got autographs from Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy also.

So today she proudly announced to me that the Leprechans live at the end of the rainbow so they can protect their gold. And "Mama, all magical creatures must be a bit mischievious because the Leprechans said they are taller than a catepillar, but how big is a catepillar?" The Leprechans left her a coin from Hong Kong, which she thought was much cooler than the dollar bill they left last year. I am scratching my head wondering what they will leave next year.

I suggested that she blog about it, and she just looked at me strangely and said, "why?"...as if there were nothing interesting or noteworthy about this conversation. What was I thinking? All children collect autographs from magical creatures, right?

Since she wouldn't blog about it, I did.