Rob E. Boley's Blog, page 7
April 20, 2014
Expedition Bigfoot Part the Third: An Easter Surprise
If you’ve read some of my past blogs, then you know that my daughter and I have been planning a camping trip to find Bigfoot for quite awhile now. We’ve watched documentaries and read books. We’ve studied the creature and … Continue reading →
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April 15, 2014
Questation Libs: A Dice Game of Spontaneous Conversation
The other day, my daughter and I walked up to the local Awesome Yogurt for an after-dinner treat. Their little sitting area has vibrant colors and fun décor, like oval mirrors at eye level with mustaches and pirate hats painted … Continue reading →
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April 6, 2014
The Cereal House, and Tank You Very Much
Earlier this week, my daughter announced that she was going to start a restaurant called the Cereal House, and that I would be the first customer. So, when I woke this Sunday morning, she was eager to get started. I … Continue reading →
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March 31, 2014
Pudding Swamps and Danger Jungles: Expanding the Dungeon!
March 23, 2014
Pac-Man, Performance Poetry, and Fame
March 16, 2014
Expedition Bigfoot Part the Second: Ode to Sasquatch
Last week, my daughter and I began preparations for our upcoming Bigfoot expedition by taking a long walk in Glen Helen Ecological Preserve. Along the way, we pondered what life must be like for Bigfoot.
By the time we emerged from the forest, we had conceived an entire Bigfoot existence, including: their early days dwelling in hidden caves, their adult years roaming the wilderness in search of food and appreciating nature’s beauty, and finally their quiet advanced years spent watching the babies in the caves.
It was an enjoyable little exercise in creativity. This week, we took it a step further. We’d already put ourselves in Bigfoot’s shoes. We’d gotten inside Bigfoot’s head; now we needed to get into his heart.
Our first attempt at this came in the form of letters to each other. I wrote from the point-of-view of an adult Bigfoot traveling through the wilderness, and my daughter wrote from the perspective of a child Bigfoot.
The result was less than satisfying, and the whole exercise felt forced – like she was doing a homework assignment. Although, I loved the middle of her letter: “The teens and college-ages are chatting about something called ‘jupiter.’ That is a type of plant, I think.” So cute. But by the end, she was clearly filling space: “The girls are either hanging by themselves (like me) or some others are talking to great gramma, great grampa, great great gramma, great great grampa, great great great gramma, and great great great grampa.”
Yeah, it was like that.
But that’s all cool. Sometimes parenting is like writing: major rewrites are needed. So, a few days later, we tried our hand at poetry. My daughter started with a charming limerick:
Great Bigfoot Limerick
Brown and hairy,
Big belly to carry.
Lives in a cave,
Food to crave,
Very scary.
I told her it was wonderful, but to try to put herself more in Bigfoot’s head. What was he thinking? Better yet, what was he feeling? She considered for awhile, then asked me how to spell “cinquain.” She soon came up with this:
Great Bigfoot Cinquain
Bigfoot.
Hungry, sleeping,
Resting, nesting, eating.
He is quite mysterious.
Sasquatch.
Now, we were getting somewhere. We sat at our little kitchen table, facing each other with our laptops back to back, and typed out Bigfoot poetry. I sent her a little haiku:
trees stand thick as fur
my belly pouch swells like moon
these feet, not so big.
She responded with this poem, which I think is the best of the litter.
Bigfoot Untitled
I am lazy,
I know it sounds crazy.
I bird watch more than you think.
Cave plumbing is what I drink.
I miss my kids when I hunt.
I am no runt!
I feel strong.
But sometimes I long,
to sleep instead of being king kong.
This is everything a Bigfoot poem ought to be. It’s funny, thought provoking, and a little sad. And I love the pop culture reference at the end.
With these poems, we are certainly a few steps closer to finding Bigfoot.
March 9, 2014
Expedition Bigfoot Part the First: What Does Life Mean to Bigfoot?
To find a Bigfoot, you must first become a Bigfoot. At last, that was this week’s big idea.
A few months ago, my daughter saw the Judy Moody movie in which the kids tried their best to capture a Sasquatch. Since then, we’ve been scheming about a Bigfoot expedition. This week – with an end to winter in sight – I called our local metroparks and reserved a campsite located less than a mile from two actual Bigfoot sightings (found courtesy of the Bigfoot Field Researchers Organization’s Comprehensive Sightings Database).
Yesterday was the first hint of spring. I wouldn’t say spring rose up, so much as winter stumbled. It was too sunny and mild out to be inside, so we set out for a hike in Glen Helen. Our objective was simple – to get in Bigfoot’s head.
I explained to my daughter that if we want to find one of these mythical creatures, we have to learn to think like one. She didn’t seem overly impressed with the idea. I think she was more interested in going swimming at an indoor pool. But I assured her that this was an important first step to finding Bigfoot.
It’s also an important part of being a well-rounded person. When I was a student at Wright State University, I took a lot of religion classes. One of the professors stressed the importance of “walking a mile in someone else’s moccasins.” She was talking not just about having compassion for other people, but also about putting aside our own views to get a truer understanding of someone else’s.
In this case, our someone else happened to be Bigfoot.
The forest was a hundred shades of mud. Slippery mud. Stagnant water mud. Black mud. Splotchy mud. Dying ice lingered in deep shadows. Our first stop in the forest was a massive overhang of rock. There, my daughter had that notion that Sasquatches might use caves to hide their babies from danger. We theorized that Bigfoots probably lived in groups. That way, they could hide the bodies of their dead. Otherwise, surely a Bigfoot skeleton would have been discovered by now.
It wasn’t until later in the walk that she asked the BIG QUESTION. I was so proud when she said, “What I want to know is, what does life mean to Bigfoot?”
That’s when things really got interesting. As we walked through this thawing forest, a clear picture of Bigfoot life came into view.
We imagined that Bigfoots are nature-lovers, that they spend much of their days simply sitting in the wilderness admiring the beauty around them. This sloth-y lifestyle explains why they are so hard to find. Plus, it would mean that they require less food. They communicate by using hand signals and mimicking bird songs. My daughter figured out that they must wear some sort of primitive shoes to hide their tracks.
The adults are free to roam the wilderness and gather food. They probably travel mostly at night, so they must have great night vision. That’s helpful, because children of all ages live in a system of underground caverns. “The teen and college age ones hang in there with the babies,” my daughter said.
The elderly, too, live in the caves, especially once their eyesight begins to fail. In the winter, the adults return to the caves, and it’s a big snuggle-fest.
“Where do they go to the restroom?” my daughter said after we splotched through a muddy path and eventually settled upon an enormous rock. “They can’t do it in the caves or else they’d be stepping in Bigfoot dung all the time.”
We decided that they construct buckets for disposing of their waste. They probably used it as fertilizer for choice plants. On our way out of the forest, we discussed how they carried the food that they gathered. My daughter had the notion that, like kangaroos, Sasquatches have pouches.
An hour after entering the forest, we walked back to the car. We now knew the Bigfoot’s lifestyle, habits, and patterns. We were one step closer to finding Bigfoot. The whole thing had been a wonderful exercise not just in imagination, but in stepping outside ourselves and wearing someone else’s shoes. Or, in this case, someone else’s big feet.
My daughter seemed pleasantly surprised when she said, “That worked out a lot better than I thought.”
February 27, 2014
Father/Daughter Story Collaboration: Clara’s Scary Kittens
My daughter and I spend a lot of time writing together. We usually keep our laptops on the kitchen table, an old diner table rescued from a Skyline Chili. On the days she’s with me at home, we probably spend about an hour seated across from each other. I work on my fiction and she works on either short stories or cartoon strips on pbs.org.
I love these moments. Writing is a solitary endeavor, so it’s nice to share that time with someone else.
A few weeks ago, I got the idea to collaborate on a story with her via email. I thought it’d be a good way to stay in touch while she’s at her mom’s house. So, I talked about it with her, and she agreed.
I started us off with an opening line:
Clara had always enjoyed kittens until that one autumn night.
Over a period of weeks, we emailed each other back and forth, adding a sentence or two at a time to the story. We hardly ever talked about it. Instead, we just wrote back and forth, feeling out the story as we pushed it in our own directions, not unlike two soccer players kicking a ball back and forth. Some days, we traded several emails and added a lot to the story. Some days, we didn’t add a bit.
The other day, my daughter brought the story to a close with a chilling finale:
Kim did the scariest thing all. Kim said, “Hello, Breakfassst.”
We’ll definitely do something like this again, maybe with a poem or maybe with another story. It’s a nice way to stay in touch and create something together. Eventually, it’ll be a good way to teach her the finer points of revision.
I’ve included the completed story below. For the most part, I’ve left it as she and I wrote it, only correcting a bit of punctuation here and there for clarity’s sake.
It’s a silly little tale. I hope you enjoy it.
Clara’s Scary Kittens
Clara had always enjoyed kittens until that one autumn night. Clara had been eating her candy she had collected on trick or treat night with her friend, Bella, who loved going to the mall. Clara dressed as a zombie pizza delivery girl, and Bella wore a dancing tomato costume.
Clara nibbled on a red skittle as her 3 kittens, Tim, Jim and Kim, snoozed under the table. The shutters banged noisily across the room where there father read the paper.
“Hey,” her father said. “What was that noise?” He then tore out his eyes, which isn’t as bad as it sounds because he was dressed as a six-eyed insect.
“It’s just Jim at the scratch post for the 5th time this week”. Said Clara, shaking her head.
“Um, Clara,” Bella said. “Jim is under the table with the other kittens.”
Clara’s father’s chair tipped over, and he yelled, “Waaarggh!”
“Come get some toast!” Her mother shouted from the kitchen.
“I’ll get a band aid.” Said Clara’s Dad.
“No butter this time, right?” Asked Bella.
“That’s the 3rd time I forgot this week,” Said Clara’s mother, shaking her head.
“Wait a second,” Dad said, now holding a band-aid. “Why are we eating toast at night? After eating a bunch of candy? And shouldn’t we figure out what was making that noise, if it wasn’t one of the kittens? Whatever it was, it knocked me out my chair.”
Then, Clara’s mother screamed. “A-a-a tiny grey blur took a nibble of the c-c-cream cheese I had out.” She stammered.
“Mom, have you for gotten that little grey mouse, Chester, lives in a hole in my bedroom?” Said Clara, eating her m&m.
Suddenly, Jim bumped into Tim, Kim bumped into Chester, Dad bumped into Mom, and Clara bumped into Bella.
“Seems that the power is out.” Said Bella.
Then, they saw a pair of great big yellow eyes.
In the dark, they heard a noise like raw meat splatting against the floor. The room stank of sour fruit. Something growled.
Clara and Bella screamed. They went for the stairs. In the darkness they couldn’t see, and ended up banging heads.
“R-r-remind me to get an ice pack when I wake up and find out this was a b-b-bad d-dream.” Said Clara.
“If I survive through this smell.” Said Mom, pinching her nose.
“Do you people remember that there is a wild beast IN THIS ROOM?” Said Dad.
Suddenly, Clara knew what happened. “It ate Chester! It ate Chester!” She shouted.
“That’s it, I’m gonna barf.” Said Bella.
The big yellow eyes blinked in the dark. The beast must have clamped its teeth together, because sickly green sparks flashed in the dark, illuminating its gruesome smile. But the mouth wasn’t the scariest part of the creature.
Clara’s pop quiz;
Was Bella correct about barfing? Check
Did she make it to the toilet? Not-check
The monster’s teeth curled.
It’s brown fur stood straight up.
Then he said; “BYE!”
In the dark, Clara could barely see the monster dance and flail his way through the house. Furniture crashed and lamps shattered. The front door opened and shut, and the monster was gone.
Does anyone have a spare flashlight?” Clara asked.
“Don’t look at me.” Says Mom.
“Does anyone have a spare LAMP?” Said Dad, squinting at the shattered lamp that lay on the floor across the room.
They all had a good laugh at Dad’s joke… until they noticed the kittens’ eyes.
The kittens’ eyes were blood-red and 3 times the size they were before. Jim’s mouth curled into an evil smile, fangs glowing. Tim let out a non-cat howl–more like a werewolf howl. Kim did the scariest thing all. Kim said, “Hello, Breakfassst.”
February 21, 2014
Pac-Man Tag: A How-To Guide
Let me start by saying I’m not advocating this game as a particularly good idea. If you’re opposed to heart attacks, broken bones, or bruises, this might not be the activity for you. Okay. This concludes the disclaimer.
My daughter and I both love winter. But when the temps fall into the single digits or the snow is filthy grey slush, it’s best to stay inside. After days of staring at the same walls, the body craves action. Unfortunately, I’ve got a pretty small apartment, so we have to get creative for fun, active games.
The other morning, my daughter suggested we make a Frogger tag game, based on the 80’s arcade game. We talked about it a bit, and decided that Pac-Man actually lent itself to better game play. Moreover, my apartment’s rectangular shape and five basic rooms actually resembled a Pac-Man game board.
If you need a refresher or have never played the arcade game, you can play it for free online.
So, here’s how we adapted it into a real-life game.
Game Materials
To play Pac-Man Tag, you need:
• Cotton balls (several white and four colored)
• Helmets (optional)
Yup, that’s it. We started off using a two-sided mask for whoever was playing the role of the Ghost. It was a cute idea and the masks were awesome and easy – a piece of paper and string. We figured whoever was the Ghost would wear the mask pink-side-out while chasing Pac-Man, but would then switch the mask to blue-side-out after Pac-Man grabbed a power pellet. Unfortunately, the switching proved too cumbersome, and the masks severely limited visibility, not a good idea when sprinting around furniture with sharp corners.
So, without the mask, all you need is several white cotton balls for the pac-pellets. Plus, you need four colored cotton balls for the power pellets. You could probably dye or paint these. We had some orange and yellow pom-poms from a previous project, so we used those.
The helmet is optional. We didn’t use one, but use your best judgment.
Game Prep
• Pac-Man waits in the bathroom. Stretching is highly recommended.
• The Ghost places the white cotton balls and four power pellets (colored cotton balls or pom-poms) in the various rooms of the dwelling.
• The pac-pellets must be on the floor in plain sight, spaced fairly evenly apart. No hiding!
• One power pellet goes in each room.
Game Play
• Pac-Man gets a four-second headstart.
• Pac-Man must grab all of the pellets (white cottonballs) and power-pellets (colored balls) to win the game.
• The Ghost tries to tag Pac-Man.
• If Pac-Man gets tagged by the Ghost, Pac-Man loses a life and must return to the bathroom. Pac-Man then gets another four-second headstart to try to finish the game.
• Pac-Man only gets three lives.
• When Pac-Man grabs a power-pellet, Pac-Man has temporary immunity and can tag the Ghost. This only lasts for four seconds.
Game Over
• Pac-Man wins upon grabbing all of the pac-pellets and power pellets before being tagged three times.
• The Ghost wins upon tagging Pac-Man three times.
• After each game, the roles can be reversed. Alternately gameplay can be made harder by either increasing the number of pac-pellets or decreasing the amount of time for Pac-Man’s headstart/power pellet sessions.
We had a blast playing this game, but be warned: it is vigorous. I do some pretty intense workouts and am in decent shape, but all that sprinting and crouching kicked my butt. After our first attempt, I was panting for breath and my legs were shot. Plus, you’ll have to use your own best judgment about the safety of running within the home.
As well, like all play games, you may need to adjust the rules a bit (especially the time for power pellet tags or headstarts) to make it more fair, depending on the speed and agility of the players.
Game Summary
It’s a great two-player, parent-child game, but I can’t imagine playing it with three players. It’s hard enough with only one ghost!
We had a lot of fun creating this game. Honestly, the process of brainstorming it and figuring it out was probably more fun than the game itself. But I reckon that’s true of many things in life.
February 14, 2014
B.A. D.I.Y. Bookmarks
This week, my daughter and I made Valentine bookmarks for her classmates. We could have just bought some Valentines, but I was feeling all uppity about having to buy something to celebrate a holiday.
I wanted to show her that caring doesn’t always mean buying, that it can be just as meaningful – if not more so – taking the time to create something.
So, I asked her about making Valentines, and she was all for it. I googled some ideas and found some pictures of cute homemade bookmark Valentines. Since my daughter is such a good reader, bookmarks seemed like a perfect fit. We chatted early in the week about what the bookmarks should say. I came up with, “You’re the best in my book.”
She was not impressed.
“Then come up with something better,” I said.
She couldn’t.
So, I googled Valentine bookmarks, and found that quite a few featured a similar play on words. I showed her this, thinking it’d prove my point.
“I don’t want to copy what those said,” she said.
Sigh. Sometimes, there’s no winning. Except I control the printer, so we went with my apparently unoriginal “best in my book” idea. So there.
Making the bookmarks was a simple process. I printed Side A of the bookmarks on label paper used for shipping labels. Since those labels print out a half page, we had plenty of half-used sheets available from some recent eBay sales. I cut out the labels, and we went through some old comic books for Side B.
That was a fun process, because it meant finding the perfect little slice of story – a bit of dialogue with some cool action. To do this, we used some old Spider-Man and Charlie Brown comics that she got from Free Comic Book Day. Once we found a suitable image, we stuck the bookmark to the other side of the page, and then cut it out. I have a nice paper cutter perfect for that purpose.
After we made a couple bookmarks featuring Spider-Man and Spider-Woman, I suggested that maybe the girls in the class would want different bookmarks.
She balked at the idea, and pointed out that Spider-Woman was kicking some butt in our images. “What girl wouldn’t want a B.A. girl on her bookmark?” she said.
Yes, she knows that B.A. means “bad-ass.”
She had a point. So, we rightly addressed the bookmarks regardless of gender. That just left the final two steps – adding some color to Side A with crayon, hole-punching a hole in the top of the bookmark, and tying on a ribbon. She took care of the crayon art, and I worked with the hole punch and ribbon.
As we finished up, we talked a bit about making stuff versus buying stuff. I pointed out that while we didn’t have to spend a dime on these Valentines, we did invest a bit of time on them.
“Time-shmime, as important as a lime,” she said. “Actually, less important than a lime.”
The limes of the world will be proud to know that the little dear was true to her word. She even took special care to draw a unique design on each bookmark, even though it meant taking a bit of extra time.
“That’s nice that you did that,” I told her.
“I guess I’m just a crafty girl,” she said.
When we’d finished and double-checked the class list to make sure everyone had a bookmark, I pressed her again. “You’re sure this was worth it? It would have been easier just to buy Valentines.”
“But then we wouldn’t have had this moment,” she said.
And that made it all worth while.
