We brought one of the Crunch Lab boxes on vacation. They arrive every month, rain or shine, and contain the ingredients for an adventure. This one was designed to build three ball launchers, with wooden pieces that snug together, and a handful of red foam balls that fly across the room. The designer, Mark Rober, is inclined toward barely controlled chaos. You can hardly blame him. The laughter was contagious when the Odhner engineering crew gathered round for trial runs, and people got bonked by balls. 

It takes a subscription. Last December I sent money in anticipation of twelve good afternoons with our granddaughter. It is an act of faith, these subscriptions. You have to believe that the company will deliver, and not go belly up. That happened to me once, twenty years ago when I bought tickets to fly to California on an airline that went bankrupt before we flew. 

But Mark's company seems solvent, and so we and a few thousand other families have bought the chance to play. There are ways to sign up for things we believe in, like frivolity. I belong to a group that cooks for others in the community that need a little extra support. Another bevy of women gather each week for prayer. A woman who mentioned her love of theater got me thinking about starting up an improv night. Plus I will be starting a new marriage group in September. 

It is a sweet aspect to life with other humans, this chance to explore community.