It is Destination Imagination season, again. And we are off to an extremely slow start.
The annual explanation, for the uninitiated:
Destination Imagination is an extra curricular activity for kids that involves problem solving challenges. Teams of seven or less are required to complete a defined task, like building a weight bearing structure from wood, while performing a seven minute skit that showcases at least two additional talents…
Basically, it is a big, gifted and talented, geeky, uber-creative mess.
When I can catch two or more of them together at the same time, I declare it a meeting, and wait to see what happens.
My team is building a prop kitchen. I hope. There are wood pallets involved. I promised them linoleum to cover the pallets, since there is a roll that was left in the basement by the previous owners, when we bought the house. I have never actually looked at the stuff, other than to register that it was some kind of red, yellow and white, check pattern, and looked like it would be really cute, in a kitchy sort of way.
I sent #2 son to the basement for it, this afternoon.
He came back empty handed.
Me: Big red roll.
Me: Behind the furnace.
#2: Not seeing it.
Me: IT’S BEEN THERE FOR 12 YEARS!
#2 (struggling the roll upstairs) This is not red.
Me: Partly red. Sort of. If you squint.
#2: And it’s not linoleum.
Me: It must be. Because what else…
Ok. I registered that there was some printing on it. But I assumed that was the plastic holding the roll together. And I will admit that it is not red. On closer inspection, it appeared to be off white with a maroon fleck (still kitchy cute), covered with a few lines of printed tape.
But on really close inspection it was
A huge roll of cellophane peanut butter cup wrappers. Millions of them. Boyer Peanut Butter Smoothies. Personally, I was a Mallo-cup fan. I got a Mallo-cup every Sunday, after church, along with The Children’s Digest, where I would read Tin Tin.
My father got a copy of the Chicago Sun (defunct).
The Sun Times (also defunct)
The Trib (In Chapter 11?)
Meaning, it was a long time ago. And finding Boyer wrappers my basement was about as likely as finding a dead stegosaurus. If there had to be a Boyer treasure trove in the house, why could it not have been the cardboard backing to the candies? They had pictures of money on them. And you could save the points, and when you had enough, you sent them back to the company for a free case of candy?
Instead, I have an inexhaustible supply of kitchy wrapping paper.