Won't be able to post much this next week (OK, at all) ... am going to the Wilds of Minnesota for a week. If someone needs to reach me:
1) Check out the link, I'm sure there's a contact number on there. Use that -- no cell phone reception anywhere in the area.
2) The contact number will be for the main lodge, which is across the county highway and down a hill from where I'll be.
3) The lodge owners will answer. Tell them it's a message for "One a' them Williamses." They'll take the message.
4) If we're lucky, my dad (or Uncle Bob, or Aunt Lynn, or cousins Mackenzie or Andrew ... you get the idea) will get the message when they stop by for coffee or doughnuts.
5) If we're really lucky, someone will remember to tell me later.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Friday, July 20, 2007
They Don't Sleep Much
The kittens are now Officially Our Problem! In other words, we've adopted them. God help us all.
Monday, July 16, 2007
As they are now
Location of kittens at present:
Molly on the computer desk, just finished checking out Michael's inbox, is making her way to the keyboard, playing with a pencil en route.
Merlin and Miri are playing; Merlin is on my lap, Miri is attacking from below and occasionally snagging my knee. Now Merlin's looking up and biting my wrist.
So Computer Time is a group activity. Merlin wants to hit the space bar, and Molly keeps batting a pencil down on my hands for me to put back up on the desk for her. Aaugh.
We tried a cat dancer last night, to unusual results. Merlin caught it right away, then started trotting off kitchenward with the bird. When the string fishlined him, he started tugging at it. Well, I tugged back and started dragging him back toward me. He dug in his little claws and growled (yes, cats can growl. You just don't hear it often.). When I got him all the way to me, I kept pulling until Merlin was dangling two feet above the ground, hanging BY HIS TEETH. He finally slipped down one of the feathers and dropped to the ground.
He did this little routine two more times. Can't say he doesn't know the Rules of Hunting (if you catch it, it's YOURS. AND NO ONE ELSE'S.)
Molly likes to get herself stuck in the bathtub.
At present, it looks like Miri will be the Alphakitty -- her siblings tend to follow her lead, and Molly's actually been known to stand by and wait for Miri to finish eating before going to the food dish.
Molly on the computer desk, just finished checking out Michael's inbox, is making her way to the keyboard, playing with a pencil en route.
Merlin and Miri are playing; Merlin is on my lap, Miri is attacking from below and occasionally snagging my knee. Now Merlin's looking up and biting my wrist.
So Computer Time is a group activity. Merlin wants to hit the space bar, and Molly keeps batting a pencil down on my hands for me to put back up on the desk for her. Aaugh.
We tried a cat dancer last night, to unusual results. Merlin caught it right away, then started trotting off kitchenward with the bird. When the string fishlined him, he started tugging at it. Well, I tugged back and started dragging him back toward me. He dug in his little claws and growled (yes, cats can growl. You just don't hear it often.). When I got him all the way to me, I kept pulling until Merlin was dangling two feet above the ground, hanging BY HIS TEETH. He finally slipped down one of the feathers and dropped to the ground.
He did this little routine two more times. Can't say he doesn't know the Rules of Hunting (if you catch it, it's YOURS. AND NO ONE ELSE'S.)
Molly likes to get herself stuck in the bathtub.
At present, it looks like Miri will be the Alphakitty -- her siblings tend to follow her lead, and Molly's actually been known to stand by and wait for Miri to finish eating before going to the food dish.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
More kitty pics
Well, while I can't possibly compete with Jordlet's news, here (by husband's request) are some more kitten pictures. Closeups of Miri, Molly and Merlin (in that order).
P.S. We didn't intend to go with all-M names. Those faithful readers will know that we started with Rosie, Molly, Cricket and Mirabel. Well, Rosie turned to Merlin and Cricket died. We didn't realize the 3-M thing until all the kits were already responding to their names. Oh, well.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Some bad news, some good news
First of all, I should probably report that Cricket has died. I don't like to talk about it much, because he was such a sweet kitten and it's hard to let him go, even though it's already been two weeks since he died.
This is one of the facts of life for kitten foster parents, it turns out. A huge percentage of kittens who are removed from Mom before 5 weeks of age will die, and the litter I've got came here at probably 3 weeks or so: the fact that 75% are alive and hopping (well, sleeping right now) is quite the feat. The short explanation is that Cricket "failed to thrive." The long explanation is that one day he was gamely trying to keep up with the sibs, the next morning he was sprawled out on the kittens' bed with his head stretched back, trying desperately to breathe. I brought him back to the shelter vet and they had to put him down (I have absolutely no qualms about this, BTW -- he was very obviously in pain as well).
So while I'm sad and grieving, I know enough about raising kittens to know that there wasn't anything I could've done (one of the shelter staff had an almost identical experience just a few days before). If anything, I'm incredibly angry and frustrated at the people who just dumped this lot of kittens on a sidewalk in West Chicago when they were far too young to be away from their momma. I don't understand that kind of person (and yes, there was evidence that the kittens were dumped by a human, not just born on the sidewalk and left).
*Abrupt topic change to cover an otherwise awkward silence*
The other kittens, however, are doing admirably.
Molly's by far the biggest and silliest: she has a tendency to fall asleep upside-down, usually on a pillow or other elevated place, and tumble down halfway through her nap, whereupon she will crack her eyes open, shake her head and fall asleep where she landed.
Merlin is a sweetie and the most likely to seek me out ... and claw his way up to my shoulder to give my ear a good snuffle. He's the smallest now and has yet to win any of the battles royale staged daily in our living room, but that doesn't stop him for a second.
Miri is Little Miss Independent. She's the most likely to dart off somewhere by herself (which gives Molly no choice but to seek Miri out and bite her tail), but just when you're certain all of them are settled down for a nap she'll come up for scritches. She's definitely the smart one -- no competing for Mom's attention for her.
Daffodil is ... becoming resigned to her new life, I'd say. She's got quite the crush going on Michael (her favorite spot to sleep is right on his chest, facing his head while purring away and every so often talking to him). Her days are mostly spent under our bed (which is an Ikea and therefore very low to the ground, so it's pretty funny to see her flatten herself to get under there). She's finally stopped hissing and growling at the kittens and instead just stares with indignation when they approach (Merlin especially just wants to Sit And Worship -- he thinks she's the Cat's Pajamas). Fortunately for us, she's never been the violent type so we're not worried about leaving her alone with them. At this point, I'm more concerned with making sure the kittens give their elder some space!
More about Kermit and the Kittens at a later blog ... this one's getting a bit long for my taste.
This is one of the facts of life for kitten foster parents, it turns out. A huge percentage of kittens who are removed from Mom before 5 weeks of age will die, and the litter I've got came here at probably 3 weeks or so: the fact that 75% are alive and hopping (well, sleeping right now) is quite the feat. The short explanation is that Cricket "failed to thrive." The long explanation is that one day he was gamely trying to keep up with the sibs, the next morning he was sprawled out on the kittens' bed with his head stretched back, trying desperately to breathe. I brought him back to the shelter vet and they had to put him down (I have absolutely no qualms about this, BTW -- he was very obviously in pain as well).
So while I'm sad and grieving, I know enough about raising kittens to know that there wasn't anything I could've done (one of the shelter staff had an almost identical experience just a few days before). If anything, I'm incredibly angry and frustrated at the people who just dumped this lot of kittens on a sidewalk in West Chicago when they were far too young to be away from their momma. I don't understand that kind of person (and yes, there was evidence that the kittens were dumped by a human, not just born on the sidewalk and left).
*Abrupt topic change to cover an otherwise awkward silence*
The other kittens, however, are doing admirably.
Molly's by far the biggest and silliest: she has a tendency to fall asleep upside-down, usually on a pillow or other elevated place, and tumble down halfway through her nap, whereupon she will crack her eyes open, shake her head and fall asleep where she landed.
Merlin is a sweetie and the most likely to seek me out ... and claw his way up to my shoulder to give my ear a good snuffle. He's the smallest now and has yet to win any of the battles royale staged daily in our living room, but that doesn't stop him for a second.
Miri is Little Miss Independent. She's the most likely to dart off somewhere by herself (which gives Molly no choice but to seek Miri out and bite her tail), but just when you're certain all of them are settled down for a nap she'll come up for scritches. She's definitely the smart one -- no competing for Mom's attention for her.
Daffodil is ... becoming resigned to her new life, I'd say. She's got quite the crush going on Michael (her favorite spot to sleep is right on his chest, facing his head while purring away and every so often talking to him). Her days are mostly spent under our bed (which is an Ikea and therefore very low to the ground, so it's pretty funny to see her flatten herself to get under there). She's finally stopped hissing and growling at the kittens and instead just stares with indignation when they approach (Merlin especially just wants to Sit And Worship -- he thinks she's the Cat's Pajamas). Fortunately for us, she's never been the violent type so we're not worried about leaving her alone with them. At this point, I'm more concerned with making sure the kittens give their elder some space!
More about Kermit and the Kittens at a later blog ... this one's getting a bit long for my taste.
Monday, June 18, 2007
We have Features!
... or at least a new gimmick!
Introducing Meesh's Grouse of the Week! This is my attempt to limit the amount of negativity I share with the world by venting in a structured manner.
This week's Grouse:
People who do not understand the concept of "seasonal" food. One does not ask a Michigan farmer for fresh raspberries in May, nor should one expect locally-grown apples in June. It just doesn't happen. The apples are from Chile, people. Are we seriously so separated from our agrarian past that we freak out when strawberries cost twice as much in December as they do in July? This is something I hit my head against every day at work. No, we're out of cherry preserves. Why? Because we've already gone through last year's crop. We're waiting for this year's crop now. Sometimes things aren't available RIGHT NOW.
Introducing Meesh's Grouse of the Week! This is my attempt to limit the amount of negativity I share with the world by venting in a structured manner.
This week's Grouse:
People who do not understand the concept of "seasonal" food. One does not ask a Michigan farmer for fresh raspberries in May, nor should one expect locally-grown apples in June. It just doesn't happen. The apples are from Chile, people. Are we seriously so separated from our agrarian past that we freak out when strawberries cost twice as much in December as they do in July? This is something I hit my head against every day at work. No, we're out of cherry preserves. Why? Because we've already gone through last year's crop. We're waiting for this year's crop now. Sometimes things aren't available RIGHT NOW.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Wah
It was a bad idea, a few months ago, to check out my Amazon Wishlist for "purchased" items (seriously, it was to make sure I didn't use a gift card to buy something someone had already gotten for me! Makes sense, is responsible, no?).
Because I had one surprise: one gift that has been purchased, but I have never received.
This has been the case for months, and I really, really want that book! (I'm a food geek, I admit it -- Michael was faintly weirded out that my chosen bedtime reading one night was to investigate the differences between baking soda and baking powder. But that stuff's interesting, people!)
So I know, this is my own fault for snooping (snooping with a responsible intent!), but aaarrrrrgggghhh!
Kyle, if this is your fault, you are so totally getting a noogie when I see you in August.
Because I had one surprise: one gift that has been purchased, but I have never received.
This has been the case for months, and I really, really want that book! (I'm a food geek, I admit it -- Michael was faintly weirded out that my chosen bedtime reading one night was to investigate the differences between baking soda and baking powder. But that stuff's interesting, people!)
So I know, this is my own fault for snooping (snooping with a responsible intent!), but aaarrrrrgggghhh!
Kyle, if this is your fault, you are so totally getting a noogie when I see you in August.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Friday, June 01, 2007
This post is rated TMI
Now that warm weather is here, I have a few fashion complaints.
To wit: I have repeatedly seen grown men waltzing around in shirts that are neither pink nor purple, not even a magenta, fuschia or puce: no, these are a color I believe is called "orchid."
Men, do not wear this color. No one can "rock" this color. It is reminiscent of bridesmaids' dresses.
But to get to the real complaint:
This season's women's clothes feature a cut that is essentially v-neck, with a seam right beneath the breasts. There are variations: sometimes there is shirring, or little pintucks, or it's a surplice top, but those are merely details.
Don't get me wrong -- this is a very flattering cut for just about every figure out there. It looks a little strange on little girls, inasmuch as there are no breasts for the seam to sit under, but hey -- it looks optimistic, and optimism is cute.
No, my problem is with the idiots who make the clothes. More specifically, the person who takes a sample size (usually sizes 2 or 4, increasingly sizes 0 and 2, God help us) and sizes it up to a normal size.
Message to those persons: you cannot just add a few inches all the way around the top and call it a day! No, larger girls are built differently.
WARNING TO ALL UNMARRIED MEN: THIS IS WHERE WE GET TO THE TOO MUCH INFORMATION PART. GO READ HOMESTARRUNNER OR SOMETHING, BECAUSE THE REST OF THIS POST COULD MAKE YOU GO BLIND.
Married men have probably heard it already, or near enough as makes no difference.
As a woman's ... aw, hell ... boobs get bigger, the girls, they hang lower. Thus, making the shirt two (or however many) inches wider doesn't help. You end up with this.
OK. Maybe not the thong-flashing part, but you get the seam-right-across-the-nipples bit, which is just so classy this year.
I know I'm not alone in this problem, because seriously over half the women I saw today who were wearing this kind of top (and it's a lot of women out there -- like I said, it's very popular) had that same problem. I wanted to go running around the store, yanking on shirt hems.
In a way, I'm relieved to have seen all that today. I was starting to think that maybe I was deformed, and my boobs hung three inches too low and everybody secretly knew that I was hideous but no one wanted to say anything and maybe that's why everyone gets quiet just when I walk into a room ... no?
In the meantime, designers need to actually try these clothes on size models for every size they make, to double-check that it's a realistic fit. Because seriously, a size 12 does not have tits anywhere near her shoulders.
To wit: I have repeatedly seen grown men waltzing around in shirts that are neither pink nor purple, not even a magenta, fuschia or puce: no, these are a color I believe is called "orchid."
Men, do not wear this color. No one can "rock" this color. It is reminiscent of bridesmaids' dresses.
But to get to the real complaint:
This season's women's clothes feature a cut that is essentially v-neck, with a seam right beneath the breasts. There are variations: sometimes there is shirring, or little pintucks, or it's a surplice top, but those are merely details.
Don't get me wrong -- this is a very flattering cut for just about every figure out there. It looks a little strange on little girls, inasmuch as there are no breasts for the seam to sit under, but hey -- it looks optimistic, and optimism is cute.
No, my problem is with the idiots who make the clothes. More specifically, the person who takes a sample size (usually sizes 2 or 4, increasingly sizes 0 and 2, God help us) and sizes it up to a normal size.
Message to those persons: you cannot just add a few inches all the way around the top and call it a day! No, larger girls are built differently.
WARNING TO ALL UNMARRIED MEN: THIS IS WHERE WE GET TO THE TOO MUCH INFORMATION PART. GO READ HOMESTARRUNNER OR SOMETHING, BECAUSE THE REST OF THIS POST COULD MAKE YOU GO BLIND.
Married men have probably heard it already, or near enough as makes no difference.
As a woman's ... aw, hell ... boobs get bigger, the girls, they hang lower. Thus, making the shirt two (or however many) inches wider doesn't help. You end up with this.
OK. Maybe not the thong-flashing part, but you get the seam-right-across-the-nipples bit, which is just so classy this year.
I know I'm not alone in this problem, because seriously over half the women I saw today who were wearing this kind of top (and it's a lot of women out there -- like I said, it's very popular) had that same problem. I wanted to go running around the store, yanking on shirt hems.
In a way, I'm relieved to have seen all that today. I was starting to think that maybe I was deformed, and my boobs hung three inches too low and everybody secretly knew that I was hideous but no one wanted to say anything and maybe that's why everyone gets quiet just when I walk into a room ... no?
In the meantime, designers need to actually try these clothes on size models for every size they make, to double-check that it's a realistic fit. Because seriously, a size 12 does not have tits anywhere near her shoulders.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
A Solid Start
Now that the Stinkies are 5 weeks old(ish), it's time to wean them. Last night, I spent an hour (absolutely no exaggeration) making a gruel of formula and wet food, then shooting it into the kitten's mouths with a (needleless) syringe. Why did it take so long? The syringe the shelter gave me was 1cc. Kittens are supposed to have about a tablespoon to a tablespoon-and-a-half of food per feeding. A tablespoon is 15ccs.
Well, enough of that. Time to get them used to feeding themselves. So this afternoon I made the gruel, poured it into two shallow dishes, lined their playpen with puppy training pads (I hate the disposable nature of them, but it's leakproof; imagine laying down a layer of maxi pad. Our landlord just put down this flooring and she's paranoid -- justifiably so -- of getting animal smell into the flooring.) and let 'em have at it. Here are the results:
Rumor has it that some of the food actually made it inside the kittens.
Well, enough of that. Time to get them used to feeding themselves. So this afternoon I made the gruel, poured it into two shallow dishes, lined their playpen with puppy training pads (I hate the disposable nature of them, but it's leakproof; imagine laying down a layer of maxi pad. Our landlord just put down this flooring and she's paranoid -- justifiably so -- of getting animal smell into the flooring.) and let 'em have at it. Here are the results:
Rumor has it that some of the food actually made it inside the kittens.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Mew
No posts recently, but for a Good Reason.
I have kittens.
Four foster kittens from the DuPage County Animal Shelter, to be exact. Four-and-a-half weeks old, God help us. Here is the cast of characters:
Molly, who is doing precicely what she isn't supposed to be doing, i.e. Climbing Out of the Prison (or kitten-safe play area, for you non-kittens out there).
Merlin, in a very uncharacteristic shot In Which He Is Quiet. He has no Indoor Voice to speak of.
A 2-shot of Mirabel and Cricket, can't tell from this angle which is which. The dark ones are harder to get good pics of -- everything I had looked like a dark, fuzzy blob. Anyhoo, Miri is a little girl and Cricket is a boy.
And a 3-shot (again, can't tell who the dark one is, although it's a fair wager that it's Miri -- Cricket is far too shy).
As for personalities ... Molly's a bit hard to pin down right now. At first she was Molly the Aggressor, who Bit Noses For No Reason. Then my rehabber friend Liz came by and showed me how to bottle feed them better, and Molly calmed down once we taught her how to actually use a bottle. Now she's mostly Molly the Willful.
Merlin, as I mentioned before, is very Loud. He is an Orphan, and Nobody Loves Him, and Nobody Feeds Him, Ever. -- If you listen to him, that is. He says the same things right after supper, when he's cuddling with us.
Miri is, dare I say, the smartest. She was the first to figure out the litterbox (still a dodgy subject, but at least she's got the gist of it), the first to start bathing herself and the first (egads) to figure out how to Get Out Of Prison (climb to the top and fling youself over). She also has Michael wrapped around her little paw. Her favorite activity is to Go 'Splorin.
Cricket is a quiet cuddlemuffin. Of course, part of that is because he's a little sick. Nothing much, I don't think, mostly gunky eyes. He's learning to stick up for himself a little bit, I hope, because otherwise with 3 sisters he doesn't stand a chance.
Merlin and Miri will be staying with us, which we figured out within about 10 minutes. Cricket has possibly found a home with one of my coworkers, but no permanent home for Molly yet. But I've got hope -- I've only had them since Thursday.
In related news, my dad and stepmom are coming down to visit in two weekends, and they are bringing down my other cat, Daffodil the Strange. I got her in the eighth grade (my cats live long, good lives). She's been driving my dad batty with her incessant crying since Scratchy died, and I could use her excellent bathing skills on these little Stinkies. All in all, I think it's a good arrangement.
But right now, I'm tired.
** Editing note: some of you may have noticed that one kitten's name has changed from "Rosie" to "Merlin." Ahem. Oops. Hey -- those parts are tiny on new kittens, how was I to know???
Friday, May 18, 2007
Guilt Post
Mostly I'm posting because I'm feeling guilty about not posting ... that's just sick, I know. But I do have a couple vignettes to post, anyway, so here's a collection:
D&D quote:
"No, you cannot have a pet zombie ogre!" (Someone was letting the recent acquisition of a "Command Undead" spell get to his head. I was grossed out. I mean, here I am turning these ... things ... and he wants them to follow us?!?)
Last week I was working in the candy section when I heard the following, between a toddler boy and his (what I later found out) aunt:
"No Mary!"
"You don't want Aunt Mary to push you?"
"No!"
"Well, then, we're not going to go anywhere!"
"Go!"
"But then I have to push you."
"No! No Mary!"
"Well, if you want to go, but you don't want Aunt Mary to push you ... who do you want to push you?"
"Dat girl!"
At this point I looked up, and to my surprise, he was pointing at me! I told him he couldn't afford my hourly rate.
Today, while ringing up a customer, I peeked into his cart to see how many bottles of wine there were. With thickly (Easter European?) accented English, he said, "Ah, you see all my wine! That is because I am a very vicious man! I like the numbing affects!" He said all this with a big (cognizant) smile.
Yesterday, I was asked to find some candy to fill a couple shelves in the flower section (don't ask). I was standing by my backstock, trying to find out what would "go" well. I called to one of the artists (working about 10 ft. away from me), "What's summery?"
"Beach balls!"
"No, I meant candy!"
"Candied beach balls!"
A few minutes later, I realized my seasonal mistake:
"Actually, I meant to say spring. What's springy?"
"Flowers!"
"Ray!" (Artist's name, in case you didn't catch that.)
"Candied flowers!"
Along a similar vein of silliness, we've got these new reusable bags that are round. Well, the bottom is round (this isn't the silly part). I tried to convince a customer that a round-bottomed bag was essential for trips to the beach: you stack in your frisbee, your pie and a beach ball and you're good to go. 'Cause, hey, frisbees were originally pie tins, and frisbees are essential for the beach, therefore pies are vital beach fare, no?
D&D quote:
"No, you cannot have a pet zombie ogre!" (Someone was letting the recent acquisition of a "Command Undead" spell get to his head. I was grossed out. I mean, here I am turning these ... things ... and he wants them to follow us?!?)
Last week I was working in the candy section when I heard the following, between a toddler boy and his (what I later found out) aunt:
"No Mary!"
"You don't want Aunt Mary to push you?"
"No!"
"Well, then, we're not going to go anywhere!"
"Go!"
"But then I have to push you."
"No! No Mary!"
"Well, if you want to go, but you don't want Aunt Mary to push you ... who do you want to push you?"
"Dat girl!"
At this point I looked up, and to my surprise, he was pointing at me! I told him he couldn't afford my hourly rate.
Today, while ringing up a customer, I peeked into his cart to see how many bottles of wine there were. With thickly (Easter European?) accented English, he said, "Ah, you see all my wine! That is because I am a very vicious man! I like the numbing affects!" He said all this with a big (cognizant) smile.
Yesterday, I was asked to find some candy to fill a couple shelves in the flower section (don't ask). I was standing by my backstock, trying to find out what would "go" well. I called to one of the artists (working about 10 ft. away from me), "What's summery?"
"Beach balls!"
"No, I meant candy!"
"Candied beach balls!"
A few minutes later, I realized my seasonal mistake:
"Actually, I meant to say spring. What's springy?"
"Flowers!"
"Ray!" (Artist's name, in case you didn't catch that.)
"Candied flowers!"
Along a similar vein of silliness, we've got these new reusable bags that are round. Well, the bottom is round (this isn't the silly part). I tried to convince a customer that a round-bottomed bag was essential for trips to the beach: you stack in your frisbee, your pie and a beach ball and you're good to go. 'Cause, hey, frisbees were originally pie tins, and frisbees are essential for the beach, therefore pies are vital beach fare, no?
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Hm.
At this point, do I need to discuss my philosophy with regards to D&D? I don't know -- I know it's a touchy subject for some. (Actually, I thought my dad was going to be horrified. After all, when I brought home some U2 albums one Christmas break, his comment was, "Going through a rebelious phase are we?" This time, his only comment was, "Oh, and ...?" Huh. You never know.)
So let's see if I can do the short version ...
... while at Wheaton, I knew of a group that did play D&D. They had set up a few parameters (don't kill me, math people!): you can't play an evil* character being the big rule.
Then, while dating Michael, I started playing a lot of games: board, card, video and computer games. My favorites have always been the ones that run on a roleplaying mechanic. It's like we're making up a story as a group, each player acting out a character. I love fantasy stories and a formal roleplaying game gives earstwhile grownups a chance to be imaginative and really play.
So after college I was interested in playing more games of the sort I like, and kept running into all these references to D&D. It is, at its core, a fantasy roleplaying game. I was worried about the whole magic/witchcraft thing -- I mean, who raised in an Evangelical home hasn't heard about how D&D will "open" you to all sorts of things? So Michael did a bunch of research. 'Cause that's what we do in our family. Lots of research. We're researching fools.
If anyone actually wants the links, I can get them, but I'll just sum up for now. Back when D&D first started, there was no negative image. It was just this game, you know? Then a couple of kids (seriously, like 2) committed suicide -- their cases weren't related, it was two separate suicides over a period of a couple of years. Questions were asked, like they always are, and the only thing anyone knew about these kids was that they played D&D. One of the moms started this huge campaign against D&D with this "List of 100" -- a list of people who have died as a result of D&D, basically. Well, the list has never broken the double digits.
What I found more telling is that the only thing anyone knew about these kids was the D&D. They had no real friends, other than the D&D groups.
Well, what goes on in a D&D group? You sit around with paper and pencils, the Dungeon Master leads you through an adventure. ("You're at the foot of a mountain. What do you do?" "I'll start up the mountain." "Straight up?" "No, I'll start spiraling up the mountain, going clockwise." [DM consults the map] "After half an hour, you come upon a river." etc.) There are skills checks to Listening, Use Rope, Swimming, and the like. Yes, there's magic. Depending upon what kind of magician you are (arcane or divine, and their subtypes), you pick a spell you want to cast from a list. That "spell" has its own rules, and the success or failure and the damage of that spell is determined by a die roll.
D&D is, at its core, a fantasy roleplaying game. A group adventure storytelling game. You don't even need the spellcasters (but they're fun because they're so unpredictable). The mechanic is a whole lotta rules and die roles and statistics. It's incredibly complicated, which is probably why more people don't play it -- there's a huge learning curve. But the stories are no more evil than the story in the Lord of the Rings. In fact, I'm sure someone out there has even come up with the stats for the whole Fellowship (people are geeky that way).
So to say someone committed suicide as a result of playing a game is, well, really trivializing whatever that person was actually going through. It's similar to saying that the boys at Columbine slaughtered their classmates because they wore black trenchcoats, or were slightly "goth." Um, no. That's ridiculous and insulting.
I hope that clears up any fears that I'm dabbling in the occult. I mean, really. We only sacrifice chickens on a leap year. Everyone knows that.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go look up ways to rain down holy punishment on a couple zombie ogres. My mace didn't do anything (I suspect Bludgeoning damage does nothing on the undead), so I've got to find a Slashing-type weapon and quick.
*A character is set up axes, if you will (since I'm already bugging the math people, I might as well continue): there's the Lawful-Neutral-Chaotic axis, then there's the Good-Neutral-Evil axis. OK, so they're not actually axes, but my brain's not working to come up with anything better and I'm feeling lazy. A character's place along these two "axes" (Lawful Good, Chaotic Neutral, Chaotic Good, etc.) is his/her "alignment." So seriously, no one could be "Evil."
So let's see if I can do the short version ...
... while at Wheaton, I knew of a group that did play D&D. They had set up a few parameters (don't kill me, math people!): you can't play an evil* character being the big rule.
Then, while dating Michael, I started playing a lot of games: board, card, video and computer games. My favorites have always been the ones that run on a roleplaying mechanic. It's like we're making up a story as a group, each player acting out a character. I love fantasy stories and a formal roleplaying game gives earstwhile grownups a chance to be imaginative and really play.
So after college I was interested in playing more games of the sort I like, and kept running into all these references to D&D. It is, at its core, a fantasy roleplaying game. I was worried about the whole magic/witchcraft thing -- I mean, who raised in an Evangelical home hasn't heard about how D&D will "open" you to all sorts of things? So Michael did a bunch of research. 'Cause that's what we do in our family. Lots of research. We're researching fools.
If anyone actually wants the links, I can get them, but I'll just sum up for now. Back when D&D first started, there was no negative image. It was just this game, you know? Then a couple of kids (seriously, like 2) committed suicide -- their cases weren't related, it was two separate suicides over a period of a couple of years. Questions were asked, like they always are, and the only thing anyone knew about these kids was that they played D&D. One of the moms started this huge campaign against D&D with this "List of 100" -- a list of people who have died as a result of D&D, basically. Well, the list has never broken the double digits.
What I found more telling is that the only thing anyone knew about these kids was the D&D. They had no real friends, other than the D&D groups.
Well, what goes on in a D&D group? You sit around with paper and pencils, the Dungeon Master leads you through an adventure. ("You're at the foot of a mountain. What do you do?" "I'll start up the mountain." "Straight up?" "No, I'll start spiraling up the mountain, going clockwise." [DM consults the map] "After half an hour, you come upon a river." etc.) There are skills checks to Listening, Use Rope, Swimming, and the like. Yes, there's magic. Depending upon what kind of magician you are (arcane or divine, and their subtypes), you pick a spell you want to cast from a list. That "spell" has its own rules, and the success or failure and the damage of that spell is determined by a die roll.
D&D is, at its core, a fantasy roleplaying game. A group adventure storytelling game. You don't even need the spellcasters (but they're fun because they're so unpredictable). The mechanic is a whole lotta rules and die roles and statistics. It's incredibly complicated, which is probably why more people don't play it -- there's a huge learning curve. But the stories are no more evil than the story in the Lord of the Rings. In fact, I'm sure someone out there has even come up with the stats for the whole Fellowship (people are geeky that way).
So to say someone committed suicide as a result of playing a game is, well, really trivializing whatever that person was actually going through. It's similar to saying that the boys at Columbine slaughtered their classmates because they wore black trenchcoats, or were slightly "goth." Um, no. That's ridiculous and insulting.
I hope that clears up any fears that I'm dabbling in the occult. I mean, really. We only sacrifice chickens on a leap year. Everyone knows that.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go look up ways to rain down holy punishment on a couple zombie ogres. My mace didn't do anything (I suspect Bludgeoning damage does nothing on the undead), so I've got to find a Slashing-type weapon and quick.
*A character is set up axes, if you will (since I'm already bugging the math people, I might as well continue): there's the Lawful-Neutral-Chaotic axis, then there's the Good-Neutral-Evil axis. OK, so they're not actually axes, but my brain's not working to come up with anything better and I'm feeling lazy. A character's place along these two "axes" (Lawful Good, Chaotic Neutral, Chaotic Good, etc.) is his/her "alignment." So seriously, no one could be "Evil."
More quotes
"I'm gonna go ahead and trog* up."
- "Sounds like you have a trog problem."
"It sounds like someone is wringing me out like a wet towel, and you want to come over here?!?"
"Dude, I chopped off that thing's arm and it handed me my ass."
Yeah, we battled zombies. No one's died yet, fortunately. And I got my first chance to turn undead**! Yeah!
*"Trog" = troglodyte. Our wizard can turn himself into a troglodyte, much to our amusement. Doing so gives him some much-needed natural armor, because otherwise he is a complete wuss.
* "Turn Undead": an ability of clerics to make undead creatures turn tail and run. Sometimes even destroy them. It's cool. I rock.
- "Sounds like you have a trog problem."
"It sounds like someone is wringing me out like a wet towel, and you want to come over here?!?"
"Dude, I chopped off that thing's arm and it handed me my ass."
Yeah, we battled zombies. No one's died yet, fortunately. And I got my first chance to turn undead**! Yeah!
*"Trog" = troglodyte. Our wizard can turn himself into a troglodyte, much to our amusement. Doing so gives him some much-needed natural armor, because otherwise he is a complete wuss.
* "Turn Undead": an ability of clerics to make undead creatures turn tail and run. Sometimes even destroy them. It's cool. I rock.
Friday, April 20, 2007
List of Squirrelisms
Strange Things Kermit Does:
- Yesterday I rigged up a cotton rope across his cage, just to see what he'd do with it. He took it down and stuffed it in his nesting box. Actually, only one end is in there -- the other end is still kinda-sorta rigged up, so he's got a zip line.
- Every morning, there is some fluff in his food dish. I take it out, refill the food dish, the next morning there is a new bit of fluff in there. Same with the water dish.
- Usually the only way to get Kerm back in his cage is to give him an almond (he's got to do something with it). He usually takes it running in his wheel with him. This thing is half the size of his head. Sometimes, just to switch things up, he'll bury the almond in some newspaper, go running, then fetch the almond for another bout of running. So this is a deliberate thing, not an "I forgot to stash my almond" thing.
- He has stopped leaving snap pea skins around. They instead go in his Shrine. It's that blue thing I've got a picture of him in earlier. In it go all his whole nuts that he doesn't want to eat yet and all food detritus. I'd been thinking that he'd been emptying his food dish every night, then I looked in the Shrine. It's packed. At least he's tidy.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Unusual sightings at Cosley Zoo
... OK, this little guy was actually in an exhibit at the Zoo, so to see him there might not have been such an unusual thing. But, then again, I took these pics at 2 pm, which is a little odd for a nocturnal guy like this. Kermit, for instance, never met a 2 pm he liked.
But for your viewing pleasure ...
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Right back at ya, buddy
Exchange between two of our older crewmembers this morning (before the store opened):
"JIM! Happy Easter, you big bunny!"
"Bite me."
"JIM! Happy Easter, you big bunny!"
"Bite me."
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
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