(Saturday, Valentine’s Day, 2026)
A tall, middle-aged woman has a chore for me. I am constructing a game that has a series of parts. The first two elements I work with are shallow boxes made of steel. I have a batch of tiny colorful stones, pebbles, that are meant to fill the boxes. When the game is ready, children will search the pebbles with one hand for a small, decorated card-like piece, also made of metal.
I want the two boxes to have an identical amount of stones, so I ask a nearby young man if I can use his scale. He says yes. I am able to weigh each box to assure the pebbles are at the same depth, the same amount. It all goes well.
Next I need to work on a shelf (against a wall to my left) that has two rows and three layers. Six shallow steel boxes. Immediately, I am frustrated because these boxes are much wider than the first two, maybe twice as wide. And the woman in charge doesn’t bother to provide me with any more stones. I ask other workers if they have pebbles. Someone says yes. But what they provide are large, rectangular bits of wood, maybe cardboard. I keep trying to find a way to finish creating this children’s game, but the dream dissolves before I become aware of a solution.
Day notes:
My grandkids are here today. On Thursday we played a card game I got them for Christmas that is full of true-and-false questions. We have played it twice. I would like to find the next version (there might be a total of six at the Kiddy Wampus toy store).
Maybe the first two small boxes are just an introduction, a demonstration of the game. Maybe it is my role to create the actual game out of the larger steel boxes. Find my own creative elements.
Whenever Wyn arrives, he runs up the stairs to start “gaming.“
Last week I donated some art materials for our immigrant residents who are afraid to leave home. I gave away two large bags of beautiful, colored pieces of (unsharp) glass that look like crystals, gems.