O M G oddess

My heart is broken. Marvel Comics shot a thunderbolt through it when they gave my beloved Thor a sex change. Dude doesn't even look like a lady now... more like a body builder with boobs. I feel sick.

It seems that Marvel wants to expand their fan base to include more women and minorities. They hope this female super-hero will inspire women to flock to the comic stores and theaters. If any do, I won't be among them.

They already had me as a fan, because of Thor. For me, Thor was Marvel's romantic hero. Swapping out my romantic hero and replacing him with a woman is just plain mean. They basically took away my candy and gave it to the boys, who already have more than their fair share of it in the comic-book world.

Sure, I'd like them to bring a female hero into the mix, but not at the expense of Thor. If I told Marvel Comics I wanted a swimming pool, would they bulldoze down my house to install it? ("Geez, lady, you said you wanted a pool, we gave you a pool. What's yer problem?")

Since Frozen struck the right note, strong female characters are in demand. However, it's not easy to find the right balance. It took Disney 60 years to get there, and they're freakin' Disney! You can't just slap a wig on a pig and tell it to sing. (You really can't. The Muppets could sue you. But I digress...)

It is a valid criticism that comics lack 'A-list' female super-heros. For all I know, male fans are tired of The Avengers being such a sausage-fest. I'm sure somebody at Marvel thinks this is a win-win idea because it appeases the girls and gives the boys a super-hero to ogle.

Please, Marvel, prepare a back-up plan. Tell me there's an artist in the back room designing a new female comic superstar, one with massive intelligence and power, but not massive boobage.

Meanwhile, I'll continue to hope this is a belated April Fool's prank. Perhaps tomorrow this will show up in the mail:

      "Dear Greta,

           Calm down, we were kidding. We'd never really do that to our loyal Thor fans. 
           We're sending Chris Hemsworth to deliver you a dozen roses by way of apology. 

       Sincerely, Marvel."

Younger and Sometimes Wiser?

In younger years I used to move a lot. It came with the territory. In college I moved every semester. After college there were more moves. I bounced from my parents' place to a shabby little apartment, to a nicer apartment, to my very own condo.

That's about the time moving went from a 'mere nuisance' to a 'monumental nightmare.' Suddenly I had furniture, electronics, appliances, linens, knick-knacks, and too many clothes. Three years ago everything I owned fit into half a room. Suddenly every closet, cupboard, and cranny in a large apartment was... full? 

From there it got worse. I moved from the condo to a house. Wheee! Decorating! More furniture! Bigger furniture!

I must have tempted fate too much when I settled into that house. The moment the last accent piece was placed in the alcove, I got promoted to a 1-year traveling job. I'd get another promotion then, in another city!  I had to sell the house and move the stuff to storage. It was beyond painful. When it was over I said to my friends, "Here's my advice to you. Buy nothing, and have the money." 

It was excellent advice. If I'd followed it, I would have money in my pocket and we'd have room today to move around in this house. We could even relocate to some charming bungalow that's within walking distance to everything we need. But I didn't listen to my younger (but wiser) self so I'll be forever burdened with all this crap.

Don't cry for me imaginary reader! (But if you do, take a handkerchief. Please? I have a drawerful and I could use the space for somthing else.) There's still hope for me to lighten this load, because I want to. I won't have the money I spent, but paying less for space, paying less to move, having less to maintain, and having less to protect? Almost as good.

Unsung Caregiver Heros Need More Than Songs

This weekend Grandma went to the ER. It was determined that she had a heart attack. It wasn't fatal, so the hospital will want her out of there ASAP. What's next for Grandma, and all the Grandmas out there? Go back home? Facility? Move in with family?

Elder care is quite an issue. I didn't strain myself with research, but I googled some numbers. In 1999, 3.7 million seniors neeeded caregivers. About 1.2 million of these only received 'informal care.' Translation... 1.2 million 'younger' friends or family members had to do everything.

The 2010 census, alas,  didn't track this statistic. I am guessing the 3.7 million has gone up, and the 'informal care' number has skyrocketed. Prove me wrong. Please.

From my experience, most older people who need care have these things in common:

1. They want to stay in their homes
2. They don't trust anyone else in their homes
3. They can't afford professional in-home care anyhow

Clearly, something's gotta give. But what? It all amounts to 'how much?' How much money is there to spend? How much property does everybody have, and how much room is available in it? Finally, how much care is needed, and how much is it gonna cost?

The answer is usually 'too much' care and expense, and 'not enough' money. So, 'younger' friend or family member... welcome to Hell. Your first choice is whether your loved one can stay in their own place. If they can, it's 'commute hell' and 'time suck' for you, the caregiver. You'll prefer this, though, to the next step. Relocation.

Making room in one's household is a real sacrifice. You're very lucky if your loved one will settle for (and can afford) an alternative, such as assisted living. Most don't have that option. Whatever the decision, it's more traumatic for your loved one.

In other times, and in other cultures, three or four generations could co-exist under the same roof. Unless that's how it's always been, though, good luck. Places aren't built with that in mind. Other family members don't like it when rules are changed mid-game. Then there's the question of 'stuff.' Nobody wants to give up anything.

[(Another household member) + (all their stuff) = (unhappy household).]  (Been there.)

Once everybody is under one roof, kiss your old life goodbye. Being on-hand 24/7 is a demanding job. You can't leave. You don't get paid. Your loved one may or may not appreciate your efforts. Though sometimes it's better than the commute. It all depends.

Politicians have many words of praise for the millions who perform this thankless job. Good start; but recognition and praise ARE NOT ENOUGH. Exhausted caregivers don't need praise. They need cash. They need help. Caregivers should get a huge whomping tax break. It should count as employment. There should be resources.

Sorry for the rant. I prefer to be funnier. It's just that I want better options for Grandma and for my awesome mother-in-law. They deserve it.

H "Gee!" TV

I confess. I'm an HGTV junkee. For those who have escaped my addiction, I'll explain. HGTV is a cable TV channel that features people who change living spaces. On HGTV, people shop for new homes, make their own homes different, or flip houses.

Programs show people attempting everything from light cosmetic redecorating to total reconstruction to global relocation. Every day I'm glued to the channel to tour the cool houses, daydream about moving to an exotic new place, enjoy the decorators' stunning 'reveals,' or even pick up useful remodeling & DIY tips.

You wouldn't know I was a fan of the network if you saw our place. An HGTV host would get sick all over our unfashionable carpet. We even have glass bricks. They may be out of style, but they give us great privacy, they let light in and disguise the lack of view. If the 70's call and want their bricks back, I will reply that 2030 called and advised me to hold onto them.

They'd want me to ditch my outmoded wall-sized mirror in the bathroom. No way. It's easy to clean. It shows me if toothpaste dripped onto my shirt hem so I know to change before I leave the house. Those dinky, stylish mirrors barely show you if your chin is clean.

It would be fun to be on their popular shows, just to be mischievous. I dream of confounding "The Property Brothers" when I demand 'closed concept' in my fixer-upper. ("We're bad housekeepers, so let's not have the mess visible from anywhere in the house, thank you very much. 'Cat containment' is an issue too. More walls and doors please.")

The fun would continue as we put our house on "Love it or List it." and none of the things on our list are what Hilary thinks we should change. ("We'd like this 2-story ceiling lowered so our HVAC bills go down. If there's money left, could you convert our kitchen to a computer room and close it off? It's not like we cook or entertain. Thanks!")

Styles come and go. This year is all about granite countertops, hardwood floors, and bold colors. Being older and wiser, I'm dubious. This year's hot color is next year's 'last year.' I'll stick with my beige, gray, and white. Granite needs to be 'sealed.' Hardwood is superior to carpet for cleaning up cat messes (if you find them in time) but hard on old knees, and unforgiving if you fall.

The shows can be fake on many levels, ranging from 'duh' obvious (people don't have to choose one of the first 3 houses they view) to 'hmmm' suspicious (a college kid with a budget of $800,000?) to 'subtle.' (Everybody on this reality show prefers things that the sponsor happens to be selling.)

But I love this world where helpful contractors speak perfect English. Where you fast-forward through the remodeling to see the finished product. Where contractors think nothing of tearing down walls. Where people gut the whole bathroom because the countertop is ugly. It's a fairy tale, and they all live happily ever after in their beautiful palace!

So don't call to sell me windows and flooring. I won't answer. I'm busy watching HGTV.

One Giant Leap (of Faith) for Mankind

To recap:  Back in the day, I watched the first moon landing on TV. If I gave a thought to moon landings after that, it was when someone used the phrase, "If we can put a man on the moon, why can't we ____?"  (Fill in the simple chore 'we' can't seem to do.) 

Fast-forward 20 years. I took a 'project management' class. The class project was to "put a man on the moon and bring him back safely."  We were to define project milestones, the critical path, that sort of thing. In our class there were 2 people from Europe, looking skeptical. They said people outside of the US felt the moon landings had been faked. I was stunned. How could they think that?

Maybe the instructor should have changed their project to 'faking the moon landing' so they'd see how impossibe that was. Upon reflection, I realized it could probably be done. It might be a better project management exercise than the one assigned. How would you fake it?

I would start by doing nothing. There was a big budget and bigger talent. Why not see how far they go? Save the smoke and mirrors for the places where the team falls short. The project could proceed right up to the end, and then do any necessary fiddling. The fewer fiddlers the better. A decent conspiracy has as few conspirators as possible.

So was the first moon landing 'real' or 'fake?' 

On the side of 'fake' is psychology and motivation. Uncle Sam needed a big win against his cold-war rival. Failure was not an option. Our scientists had to be smarter than theirs, we had to show the world the superiority of the American Way. Buy-in was needed for Viet Nam, so we could stop those awful Commies. It was time for some flag-wavin'.

Next, where did everything go? NASA lost its tapes? Really? The capsule in the Smithsonian isn't the actual one? Where are the schematics for the awesome capsule that brought the astronauts back safely? If they can keep the dress every first lady wore to the inaugural ball, couldn't someone save stuff from the most memorable accomplishment in... ever?

Last, why can't we repeat the performance? Interest and money disappeared in the 70s, but we had a 'star wars technology' spending spree in the 80s. The 90s were the time for robotics, Mars, and space exploration in general. With better technology, we could have dusted off the old plans and given some new astronauts a chance at the big prize.

Speaking of astronauts, they're 'Exhibit A' for the 'real' side of the fence. How could you trust all 12 of these dudes to stick to the same lie forever? That's way too many co-conspirators. If drugs or hypnosis was used successfully to convince these guys they were on the moon I want some of that stuff. I'd love a fake memory to cherish... perhaps a world tour with the Dalai Lama? He sounds cool.

Being older and wiser, I do see that my life is no different whether men did or didn't set foot on the moon. I've learned that you don't always have to take a side. My spot on the fence is comfy, with a better view than people can get from the ground on either side.

Shoot for the Moon

Growing up anticipating the Moon Landing was quite a journey.

It started with a Cold War. As soon as I was old enough to grasp the concept of countries and politics, I was told that there was a really dangerous country called 'Russia' who was out to kill us all. ALL! Even us little schoolkids, though we were just learning how to read and right, for pity's sake.

But our teachers and parents were so certain of danger that they held civil defense drills. We marched, in line, to the school's basement and put our heads down, so we'd know what to do when the Russians dropped their bombs on us. Mom gave me a can of tuna to carry in my purse. I might be stuck in that basement for days, and she didn't want me to starve. (Although no can opener, plus I didn't bring enough for everybody.)

I never heard the details of how those evil Russians planned to slaughter us. Clearly The Moon was involved. As a cartoon-loving kid, that wasn't hard to swallow. Bad guys were always setting up death-rays and such from vantage points in space. Sure enough, Russians were conquering Space. It was SO important that we get to Space too, so we could stop them from doing whatever it was that they planned to do.

At some point you'd think my critical thinking skills would kick in, but I'd never developed any. It didn't help that on TV I saw their evil leader banging a shoe on a desk to drown out whatever our president was trying to say. The evil leader's sound-bite, "We will bury you!" was played on the media hundreds, no, thousands of times.

Every rocket, every orbit, every safe landing was another triumph for us, the good guys. We just had to get to Space, and The Moon, first. Through the 60's I joined the nation in cheering for our brilliant scientists and our brave astronauts. Naturally I watched the Moon Landing. The whole family was glued to the living room TV for the moment of triumph. There was much hype and fanfare.

The actual stepping out of the capsule and onto the moon was a bit underwhelming to someone who was used to TV's sound stages and decent lighting. A blurry guy in a space suit stepped down and said, "Az unh snap kkrackle pop oh ann oh eye eep oh zzoe kkiyi." At least that's how it sounded to me. The whole family leaned forward and said, "Huh?" The network commentator kindly told us what the actual words were, and we were suitably impressed.

There were more moon spectacles to follow, but I didn't follow them so much any more. We'd gotten there, we'd put down a flag, we'd had our "moment" of national pride and patriotism. Perhaps it was time to move on?

I moved on... to high school and college. The rest of the nation moved on too, depending on where they were in life. There were jobs to do, a pesky war to fight, families to raise, movies to see, and stuff to buy. The Moon had been eclipsed.

Note: Tomorrow's blog.  Moon Landing, 20 years later.

A- hem!

One evening we went to dinner at Grandma's. She was tired and frustrated. She'd spent the day shopping for a dress. It was the 60's, 'Decade of the Rising Hemline,' and she could not find a dress with a hemline below the knee. This was in a city in the conservative Midwest, boasting 2 good-sized department stores and numerous clothing specialty stores, and Grandma had searched all of them. There was literally nothing suitable.

They had longer dresses in the larger sizes, but Grandma had the good fortune to be a size 10. At least she'd always thought it was good fortune. That day she wasn't so sure. She was furious that the fashion industry had you where they wanted you, and didn't care about clothing anybody but teens.

Note : Background is called for. Back in the 50's and 60's people's wardrobes were smaller. No doubt you've noticed insanely small closets in houses built back then? I mention this just to emphasize that when Grandma needed a new dress, she really needed a new dress. The occasion to wear it was the following week, and her sewing skills were barely adequate for a simple housedress.

I knew exactly how Grandma felt. I was in junior high, where the school administrators were engaged in a losing battle to enforce hem lengths. The rule of thumb was that if you knealt and the hem didn't reach the floor it was too short. It was a tough time for us female students. Dress code required us to wear dresses or skirts. None of that year's hemlines complied with the hemline rules. We were all terrified of that hemline test.

So, how did it all end up, you ask? For starters, Grandma bought a pantsuit. She really didn't want to, but it was the only alternative. Other ladies in her social circles faced the same issues and came to the same conclusion, so it wasn't like she got expelled from her club. 

Grandma was luckier than me. The dress code for the schools wasn't struck down until I was in high school, where we finally got to wear pantsuits, slacks, or jeans. Administrators may have been shocked at schoolgirls in jeans back in the day, but history proves them wrong. This was a true victory for modesty. Young girls weren't trained to sit properly in those short skirts! Jeans were a far better choice.

Now that I'm Grandma's age, I see that some things haven't changed. The mainstream fashion industry still only wants to clothe the young and attractive, still strives for a touch of sluttiness. I shop for 'mom jeans' and can only find those skin-tight stretchy things. Panties keep shrinking; I've heard the term "butt-floss" used. Speaking of butts, waistlines continue to drop, so expect to get mooned by everybody, not just your plumber.

The exception? The length of shorts. By golly, today's young men would pass that hemline test with flying colors. Good job!

Please Pass the Gravy?

Back in the day, Grandma often had the family over for meals. I'm talking every birthday, every minor holiday, and twice on major holidays. I loved Grandma, but could have done without so many visits. She and Grandpa had a small house. The only bathroom opened directly into the dining room. The kitchen barely held two, but Mom and both aunts were there helping Grandma. 

There wasn't much for the 8 cousins to do except to sit with The Dads and Grandpa, breathing their secondhand smoke and watching 'the game.' I wished I was home where my very own little bedroom was waiting, full of toys and books.

"What is your problem?" you might say. "This is a home-cooked meal! From Grandma!"

That was the problem. Grandma's cooking was a disappointment. Her gravy was brown water, roasts were stringy, chicken skin was flabby and unfloured, and pies lacked a top crust.

When I was older, I sometimes got to help in the kitchen. Grandma taught me how to make gravy. I stirred while she added miniscule amounts of milk and flour, and a lot of water to the debris stuck to the bottom of the roasting pan. "Heat and stir until it thickens," she told me. I stirred until my arm was tired. It still looked like brown water. Clearly the only way it would thicken was to boil out all that water.

Mom looked over my shoulder. Without a word, she added more flour and a pinch of salt. Soon, it looked like gravy. Grandma twitched a bit, then explained how hard it had been to put enough food on the table for the kids during the Great Depression. "We often went to bed hungry so the kids would have enough to eat," she explained. "Those extra pinches of flour add up, and everything costs so much now. Don't ever waste food."

I learned more than how to make gravy that evening. Nowadays, as incomes recede and prices go up, I grow to appreciate Grandma more and more. I wish she was here so I could tell her so. Though I suspect she knows.

Still... when restaurants and food manufacturers promise that their pies, biscuits, and roasts are like the ones Grandma used to make, I have to smile. It's good to know they don't waste food.

Breakfast Serial

Ah, that grand old phrase, 'Back in the Day!'  I started this blog so I could talk about how things used to be back then. Not for the rich, the famous, the leaders, and the winners who get to re-write history. Nope, this is about ordinary people doing what ordinary people did then. Which isn't always how we choose to recall it.

I debated where to start. Grandma's depression stories? Watching the moon landing on TV? Both are on the list, but I need more time to develop them. No, I think I'd prefer to start today with a healthy breakfast. Whatever that is. Whether your breakfast is healthy depends on what decade it is.

'Back in the day' I was in grade school. The teacher was talking about how important it was to eat a healthy breakfast. We'd just seen a short film about a little girl they called 'B.J.,' their little nickname for 'Breakfast Jumper.' (I know, right?)  But then again, the obvious choice of 'Breakfast Skipper' would have been worse. Anyhoo, poor little 'B.J.' had a terrible day. No energy at recess, no focus at school. Conclusion... eat a healthy breakfast.

After that, the teacher went around they room and asked us all what we had for breakfast that day. The first kid told the truth. "A bowl of cereal and a glass of milk." He got a bit of a scold. "That's not a healthy breakfast," he was told. I noticed that as we went around the room, each breakfast got bigger and more nutritious.

It is true that I was one of the only 'latchkey' kids in my class. We were about 10 years ahead of the curve in that regard. Mom had to rush to get everybody dressed, including herself, and out the door with everything we needed. Lunches, foul-weather gear, class projects. She's supposed to whomp up omelettes and squeeze oranges in her spare time? Puh-leeze.

I wasn't a good liar back then, so I joined the disgraced kid by admitting that I, too, had a bowl of cereal and a glass of milk. I got my lecture, and life went on. I think I was supposed to march home and tell Mom she was doing breakfast wrong. I didn't. I merely resolved to be smarter next time, and learn to fib like my classmates did.

Years later, I can picture a different scenario. The first kid up would admit he had bacon and pancakes, and  his poor Mom would get a 'time out' at PTA for serving the kid a 'heart attack on a platter.' The mom who fed her kid granola would get an award.

These days I'm not sure what breakfast foods are naughty and which are nice. I rather suspect that 'food' is the new healthy breakfast, since more kids are forced to go without these days. But I do know that if someone asks me what I had, I will look them in the eye and say, "Heck if I know. That was hours ago!"

How Now, New Toon?

This week's blogs cover the who-why-what-where-when-how of "Rolling a New Toon" in World of Warcraft (from my point of view). Today we finish with "how." "How" do you get your newly-rolled toon leveled?

Leveling up is easy at first, then gets harder at every level. You can get to level 2 just by glaring at a couple of wimpy monsters. You can get from level 1 to 10 in one session if you really focus... two sessions if you have people in your home who expect meals or attention. ("Dammit! Grandma's leveling! Get your own baby food!")

Blizzard gets it. After the first 36 toons, leveling up loses its charm to a seasoned subscriber. They try to keep it fresh with new content. There are also a number of short-cuts and hurry-ups. You can roll a death knight. They start at level 55. If that doesn't save enough time you can pay Blizzard to boost your new toon to level 90.

Many would argue, "What's the point in playing the game if you pay extra to go directly to the end of it?" Good point. Many would argue back, "I've played that part of the game too many times. This will get me to a new place." Another good point. Guess it depends.

Hubby and I have agreed that Blizzard gets enough of our money through subscription fees and expansions, so we aren't paying extra for boosts.

There are many free advantages one can employ to make the journey less painful. There are rested bonuses, guild perks, holiday buffs, and gear bonuses. My favorite is heirloom gear. You can pass it from toon to toon, it's better that any armor you can earn or buy, and it levels with you.

We all have a preferred leveling technique. Some people work in pairs, so they finish the starter quests in half the time. Some go to the area they know best so they can do the quests in their sleep. At level 15 you can enter dungeons and kill monsters non-stop. Some disappear into those and don't come out until they are either level 90 or need a pizza.

My personal technique is the "lazy slow method." My higher-level toons get me geared and guilded. I take a couple days to get to level 20. From there I rest until the next holiday or special event. Then I do all the easy holidy quests, with all their bonuses and special perks. Once done, the toon rests until the next event.

So if you see a toon frantically doing Christmas quests, still wearing a Halloween costume, and buffed with Thanksgiving food... give a wave. It's me!

Rollin' Back the Clock

This week's blogs cover the who-why-what-where-when-how of "Rolling a New Toon" in World of Warcraft (from my point of view). Today we look at "when?"

"Absurd question!" I hear my imaginary readers scoffing. "The time to roll a new toon in World of Warcraft is 2005. Hop into your Tardis and get a good toon name while you can. If you hurry you might get your 4th choice!"

You're right in many ways. The first decade of this millenium was when everybody played. It was phenomenal. Those of us who got in early are still talking about it, which must really bore the newer players.

In truth, I wouldn't want to go back. You couldn't buy a mount until level 40, you had to run everyplace. My boots got worn out running up and down Stranglethorn Vale, uphill both ways.  When I bought new ones at the auction house, I had to wait an hour for them to arrive in the mail. (They hadn't invented "Blizzard Prime instant delivery" yet.) By then my guildies had outleveled me.

Of course I caught up again. The guildies were too broke to afford their mounts, so they decided to create female toons and dance nekked for coins. Don't be too shocked. In WoW, a bikini is as nekkid as you can get, and it's pixels anyhow. Being older and wiser, I had saved enough to avoid the nekkid dancing, so we all got our mounts about the same time.

I've sinced moved on to other guilds and other servers, so I never found out what happened to those rascals. I expect they went on to become world leaders.

Other reasons not to go back to 2005? Too many to count but they include wait times to login, 1-hour hearthstone cooldowns, not enough quests, no flying mounts, and mismatched armor that always looked like a clown suit. 

While writing, I've been listening for the Tardis but the good Doctor must be busy elsewhere. I guess my best advice for "when to roll" is "hurry!"  When the expansion shows up this Fall you'll be too busy with new content to level your lowbies.

Rollin' on a Server

This week's blogs cover the who-why-what-where-when-how of "Rolling a New Toon" in World of Warcraft (from my point of view). Today we look at "Where?"  "Where?" do I roll this new toon?

Compared to finding a guild, finding a server is a walk in the park... oops, I mean a walk along the canal (insider joke).  There are only 227 servers in the US, and enough have been connected together that the actual number is 100-something.  There are 4 types of servers upon which to roll a new toon. 

• In role-playing (RP), you play 'in character'
• In player vs player (PvP), you compete against other players 
• In role-playing player vs. player (RP/PvP), you compete, but 'in character'
• In normal, you just play the game, not worrying about 'in character' or 'getting-killed-because-the-phone-rang'

If you're an experienced player, you know what server type you prefer. The real questions are 'server population' and 'starter area.' If you like to see activity and groups, lots of chat and lots of trading, roll on a high-population server. If you 'vant to be alone' to level up, or want a place where a name isn't taken, go with low-population.

Currently I'm running out of room for new toons. The ones I already have are too established to delete, so I'm rounding out my cast with supporting characters. "Where" would be the server and faction where my toons need another crafter, gatherer, banker, or lookout (to make sure "jerks of toons past" aren't lurking.)
 
How patient are you?  New races have fixed starter zones and quest sequences. You have to finish every dratted quest in the sequence before you can get out and do as you please. For original races, you can just roll a toon and wander to any low-danger area to get killed... er... started.

I'm willing to go through a "fixed" starter area. Once. There's always some dratted sequence that you have to go through that requires keyboard dexterity.  As a "mouser," I have to ask for help. (Thanks again, Hubby.)  I prefer to roll toons where I'm not forced to do specific quests before I can move on. Yep, I'm a stubborn old coot. Get off my lawn.

"Oboy! So Many Guilds!"

This week's blogs cover the who-why-what-where-when-how of "Rolling a New Toon" in World of Warcraft (from my point of view). Today we look at "what?" Specifically, "What" guild should your newest toon join?

Every WoW player has a different idea of what makes the perfect guild. People join guilds with high expectations, and eventually lower them as they realize there is no perfect guild.

Reason to Join a Guild			However....
1	Friends – Most guilds start with a theme. Family-friendly. Unusual sex preferences. Age-based. Hobby-based. Lore-based. "Oboy! New friends, common interests!"		People leave. You need more members. Guild recruiting is not easy, so the theme goes out the window. If anybody is even online when you are, and they're willing to chat, you're lucky.
2	Work together to achieve goals - There are raid guilds, pvp guilds, achievement guilds. Guilds are ranked by how well they do. "Oboy! I got into the top raid guild!"		Even uber guilds can fail or unravel. The guild's best raider graduates and never plays again. Guild leaders fight, divorce, etc. Everybody has a guild break-up story.
3	Get help - Recruiters stress how "helpful" the guild is in order to recruit you. "Oboy! Experienced mentors to guide me."		Mentors aren't always online when you need one. Others who also joined to 'get help' will expect you to be the helper. Awkward!
4	Share resources - Crafters need materials to create useful stuff. Gatherers bring in materials. "Oboy! Gatherers and crafters work together and everybody wins!"		Crafters waste vast amounts of materials before they can make good items. Gatherers, on the other hand, can sell what they gather and make enough to buy better stuff immediately.
5	Guild perks – Nowadays a high-level guild offers real advantages. "Oboy! Faster leveling, flying, gathering, and more!"		Someone else makes the rules, and you don't always agree. But if you leave, you lose all those sweet, sweet perks.
6	Free stuff - “Stuff” (bags,weapons, armor, enhancements) costs gold. New players start out broke. "Oboy! Free stuff!"		Nah. You really only need bags, and not right away. If a guild appeals to you and also gives you bags, great. Don't commit just for bags.
7	Guild bank – Find a great item you can't use, but low-level players can? Put it in the bank."Oboy! A well-stocked guild bank!"		Hey! That level 70 epic weapon I put in the bank was withdrawn by a level 10 rogue, who sold it at auction for 5,000 gold and then quit the guild!

If you've ever used WoW's Guild Finder tool, you know that there are too many guilds, and no easy way to find one you'll like. Blizzard doesn't let you sort for guild level, themes, keywords or “how active.” (There are a lot of dead guilds out there.)

To find a higher-level social guild with older players who will make no demands of me, I have to scroll through every dratted guild in the list and read their pitches. Which are usually bad. (Pro tip: If they say “no drama” it means there's drama. Run!)

Too Many Toons? Nah...

This week's blogs cover the who-why-what-where-when-how of "Rolling a New Toon" in World of Warcraft (from my point of view). Today we look at "why?"

I already have 3 dozen toons. 'Why' would I want to roll another one?  Well, there is the variety issue, with all the races and classes, but that isn't my main reason. I'd say "personal experimentation," "ditching jerks," and "clean slate" are the main reasons.

With the semi-anonymous nature of role-playing games, you can try on different personalities like a fashionista tries on clothes. You can start up conversations with people you'd never meet in real life. But mainly, you can interact with others without being immediately judged by your appearance. You've escaped the world where cheerleaders and tall guys with good hair automatically win... and it's awesome!

For all they know, I am a cheerleader or a tall guy with good hair. People respond to my witty banter in chat. They flirt with my glamorous elf. They beg me to join their groups. They respect my successful auctioneer. People react to you differently depending on how you present yourself, and this is a great way to learn what works and what doesn't for you.

The anonymous persona can, alas, be a double-edged sword.  Keep in mind that other players might also be trying on new personalities, or worse.  Not everybody is a nice person enjoying the game's content. The game could be their dating service, their baby-sitter, their revenge on the world, their last link to sanity, their catfishing source, their ego trip, or their personal 900-number. 

Which brings us to "ditching jerks."  A gamer may seem nice at first, but lately they've been begging for help, consistently needing gold, hitting on you, stalking, whining about their personal life; generally not letting you play the game in peace. It's time to give your toons a rest if the jerk knows about them. You want to keep playing? Just roll a new toon and steer clear of the old hangouts.

But even the non-jerks eventually want to know who you are when you're not playing WoW. Male or female? Working or school? Single or married? Straight or gay? Age? Depending on how far you ventured from your real-life persona, you might have to 'fess up, evade, or outright lie. Nobody expects the whole truth right away, but if you don't want to sit alone at Blizzcon, you'd better seek out some of your own kind.

Enter the "clean slate."  You roll a new set of toons and find kids your own age to play with. I found a great group of older players. We're leveling up toons very quickly now that we don't have to be cheerleaders and tall guys with good hair.

Name That Toon

This week's blogs cover the who-why-what-where-when-how of "Rolling a New Toon" in World of Warcraft (from my point of view).  Let's start with 'who'. 

You can have 50 characters on one account. In its heyday, WoW had millions of subscribers. Characters are never deleted, because Blizzard (the company that produces World of Warcraft) is not stupid. People who quit playing might re-subscribe, and they'd want their old toons to still be there.

What this means is... the name you want for your toon, that reflects who you and your toon are, is not available. Every name in the universe is pretty much taken on every server. A wonderful cartoon called "The Noob Comic" said it best.

It takes ages to find a unique name you think you can live with. Even then, sometimes you can't. By the time "LittleFartFace" gets to level 65 the joke is no longer funny. Nobody takes you seriously.  And "HotsyTotsy69" would probably like to finish a quest without getting propositioned. (I'm kidding here. Names like that could be reported and Blizzard would instruct you to pick a new one.)

The names that aren't crude or offensive are the ones you are stuck with. I've had quite a few of those "What was I thinking?" names, and so have the other people I've met in-game. Perhaps special characters in the name are too annoying for other players to type, right Æ╟leen?  Maybe you chose a 1-off from the name you wanted, and it just isn't working. Right MissElizabooth? Maybe the nickname your wife called you isn't so great now that the divorce is final, eh Bubbsy-pie? 

Blizzard charges for name changes. A lot of people are willing to pay. The alternative is to delete "Bubbsy-pie" or park him on the sidelines and start leveling up MrBetterName as fast as you can.  (Hurry... level 90 is a long way off, and the expansion is coming this Fall.)

Not just names, but also the race is a huge part of the "who" question. Do you want attractive? Exotic? Amusing? Ferocious? Each race has its own traits and corresponding "style" of names. If you observe the names Blizzard has given the non-playing characters of your new race, and can find a unique one that fits in, that's probably a name you can live with for as long as you play.

Class is another factor to consider as you define "who" you are. For example, Druids are shape-shifters who are attuned to nature. Warlocks control demons, and Paladins righteously run around doing heroic things. Something that reflects this is a good choice.

So... if you want toons from every race and class, you'd better get rolling!


P.S.  In case Mom ever reads this, a "toon" is short for "cartoon." It is the animated character that represents you in-game, your "avatar," so to speak.  You design and control it.  With this "toon" you participate in the game and interact with the other players in it. 

P.P.S. Hi again, Mom. "Rolling" goes back to the days when games like this were played with dice.  A roll of the dice determined who you were at the beginning of the game.  With WoW you at least get to pick "who" you are from the selection offered.

Little Bit?

I'm not tidy. Cleaning and culling are of no interest to me. When I had a nice-paying job it wasn't such an issue. Our house was new and spacious. we were too busy to notice the mess, and if things got really disgusting we could always hire somebody, right?

That was 14 years ago. Since then I've lost a job and we've gained lots and lots of stuff. Our cat population went from 2 to 4, which adds to the mess in too many ways. There's no money to hire somebody now, and I'm too broken to lift, haul, or scrub, so we've hit critical mass. There isn't a room in the house that isn't filthy and stacked high with junk.

"Just do a little bit every day," is the advice that I get from people who haven't seen the place. It sounds good. But if the goal is to drain the swamp, and you remove a teacup of swampwater every day, the swamp will never be drained by the time you die. (Which could be in an alligator-related accident if you frequently stand within teacup's reach of a swamp.)

Yesterday an alligator bit me in the backside. My check blanks are somewhere in this accumulation and I need them to pay next month's bills. I think I chucked them into a lidless box. This year I've been chucking everything into lidless boxes. The lidded boxes I've 'chucked stuff into' for the past dozen years are too easy to close and stack other stuff on. Trust me. So I'm trying for something less permanent.

I've searched the lidless boxes before, but yesterday I decided to go above and beyond. Instead of just digging through the boxes, I sorted the contents of each into 'toss' vs. 'keep.' Granted, I should have done that before I chucked everything into the boxes. Then again, I shouldn't chuck stuff in boxes in the first place.

The good news is that after 'tossing', I ended up with 2 less boxes! That's not a "little bit" by my standards. That's enough of a dent to make a difference. It took several hours. That's more like using a big bucket to drain a pool. It's still a slow, painful process, but it can be done.

So, my fellow prisoners-of-your-own-clutter, here is my advice. Next time somebody advises you to, "Do a little bit every day," push them into a swamp with a teacup!  Or if that seems too extreme, just excuse yourself and get to work! You need a bucket, my brethren, not a teacup.

How Dry I Am

We're many months into the Dreadful California Drought. Water is being sucked out of our reservoirs at an alarming rate, and life without enough water... sucks.

Guilt abounds. Is it more wrong to wash goo out of recyclable containers or to throw the sticky containers into the trash? I'm way behind on laundry. Should I catch up, or let it fester until we get some rain? Should I flush less? Shower less?

Then we have the bucket-juggle. Our shower is never the right temperature when we turn on the tap. You can't let clean water run down the drain just because it's heart-stoppingly cold. So you run the water into a bucket until it warms up. You empty the bucket into the watering can, and use it to keep the vegetable garden alive. We have many stairs, so it's a complicated dance.

Then you see others' pristine green lawns, you see people washing their cars, or emerging, shower-fresh, from their homes every day. But I'll keep silent, because I don't know what sacrifices they've made for that indulgence.

Some sanctimonious twits don't keep silent. Nothing's worse than some jerk who thinks everybody but him leaves the water running when they brush their teeth.  ("I use a cup of store-bought water from Canada, Sirrah, so I win. Now get out, and give me all your "holier-than-thou" points.")

The worst is the foreboding. We've had droughts here before. They ended. Logically, this one will end too. But there's that pesky climate change, so I worry. Is the new normal?

Every day I look at our dead lawn and wonder if we should give up on grass. But what instead? Hubby and I took a vote Re: Rocks and it was 2-0 against. Likewise for concrete. A "feature" would be nice but it'd have to be big, unoffensive to an eclectic neighborhood, and graffiti/vandal proof. My choice would be a fountain! Oh, wait...

All the Unread Bloggers

Hello, self. I'm pretty sure all the views of my blogspot are my own, since I didn't mention to my loyal family that I was doing this. No efforts have been made to publicize, and sure enough... low views, no comments. I am the Eleanor Rigby of bloggers. (Cue the orchestra)

"Old Greta Julvarn, just finished writing
A blog that nobody will read.
There is no need
At her computer, searching for words
While her house becomes more of a wreck.
Who gives a heck?

All the unread bloggers
Where do they all come from?
All the unread bloggers
Where do their posts belong?

Ah, look at all the unread bloggers
Ah, look at all the unread bloggers..."

But for me, this is not a problem. Seriously. I have written much, and finished nothing. I've started over 100 books, and brainstormed at least twice that many. There are also numerous half-baked screenplays, unsung parody songs, short stories; and absolutely nothing is close to finished. So far my best progress on a book is most of a chapter, and a few chunks of other chapters. Nothing is consistent and there is never, ever closure.

I desperately need closure. I need the discipline to finish writing something every day. It needs to be done before I wander off to start (and not finish) something else. That's why I'm here blogging for an audience of none. The fact that I've finished and posted 5 blogs in 5 days is monumental, stupendous progress. I'm achieving the sweet, sweet closure that has always eluded me.

Sincere thanks to Google for providing me with these facilities. Basically, this blogspot is my daily workout as I prepare myself to write for an audience. All for free, too! I'm not ready for prime time now, but by the time I post 100 of these beasties I should have a clue about what I'm capable of, and where I can go with this. 

So I'll join with myself to proudly say, "This completes today's blog."

Bye-Buy, Music?

Since I upgraded my phone a couple of months ago, I was reminded that my meager collection of digital music only had 2 artists from this millenia.  Both from a decade ago. Embarrassing. I don't want to be one of those fusty old fogies who stops keeping up. Time to preview whoever's hot in my genre of choice (fast-paced, vocals with a range, metal with new twists, that sort of thing.)

So... who were the hot new stars, anyhow? I wasn't even sure how to find out. I got busy with other things, and the 'new music' issue was forgotten. Then last week I was reading an article about plummeting digital music sales. It was informative and well-written (no surprise.  Arstechnica tends to do a nice job).

http://arstechnica.com/gaming/2014/07/nielsen-2014-digital-music-sales-plummet-compared-to-2013s-first-half/

The comments following the article were interesting. They brought up issues of the lack of quality from the various formats.  There were preferences for vinyl.  Some felt that subscription sites were the next logical step.  There seemed to be agreement that the greed of "Big Music" was finally coming home to roost. There was also sentiment expressed that there wasn't much good music these days, countered by others who felt that the Indie scene featured vast amounts of awesome new music.

Each new generation tends to define their own superstars, so I set out to ask a young person why the heck his generation wasn't out there elevating their favorite new artists for me to choose among. Alas, the only young people I could find were scrambling to make a living. There wasn't time for them to explore the Indie jungle. 

The young people I couldn't find were most likely unemployed, therefore unable to cast their monetary vote for their favorite artists.  This seems to be the song they're all singing these days (cue the blues music):

"Got no dough, Joe.
"Can't find a good job, Bob.
"Payin' off my loan, Joan.
"Need a roof for the kid, Sid.
"Can't afford food, Dude,
"That's why I'm not buyin' tunes, you loons."
Aaaaannnnd, that's a wrap.  Looks like it's time to go find me some Indie.

The Simple Retail Life

When I was on the corporate treadmill, I dreamed of those happy days back in college when I worked a retail job. Stores were beautiful and comfortable; the mall was the place to be. There were dozens of spots to get lunch. You handled the latest merchandise. Parking was ample and close. When the workday was done your time was your own. So when the Great Downsize/Outsource happened at my office, and I joined the ranks of the unemployed, I decided to leave corporate stress behind and go back to the simple retail life.

I found that the years have not been kind to retail. Even back in the day, the non-customer areas were pretty bleak. They're worse now. It's like you leave Wonderland and enter a prison compound. Bare concrete, a time clock, grubby employee lockers, janitorial supplies, and a minefield of boxes and trashed retail fixtures. (Take particular note of those janitorial supplies, because you are also the janitor. Those rest rooms, shelves, doors, and floors don't clean themselves!) 

A broken plastic chair is a thing of beauty after standing on a hard floor for hours! The smell of the 'break room' is nauseating because your co-workers microwave fish and cabbage. Just put on your nose clips and enjoy whatever snack you brought from home. On retail wages, a food court lunch can cost more than you make on a 4-hour shift. Speaking of 4-hour shifts, of course you are a part-time employee. Retailers can't afford much else. But at least you have time to check out the other stores around you, right?  Well, if there are any. So many places have already closed, with more about to.

And what about that stress-free part? Ha! The boss is worse than your old corporate boss. Remember, you are now worth less, and are more easily replaced. You are now expected to vacuum floors, wash windows, confront shoplifters, set up fixtures, and do minor repairs every second of your shift unless a customer is right there buying something. Forget talking to other employees. If there's time to talk, there's one too many employees on that shift. Which is just as well, since people go to work even if sick. Keep a safe distance. A bottle of generic daytime 'cold-n-flu' relief is the only health plan most co-workers have. Obamacare? Puh-leeze! That's just for catastrophes.

But at least there is the cool merchandise and the ample parking, right? Well, sorta. You can look at merchandise. But it costs more than you earn in a month. Ample parking?  Sure, except holiday season. If you work the afternoon or evening shift, good luck finding a parking spot within a mile of the store. Better luck getting back to your car through a mile of deserted parking lots, through rain or snow, on sore feet... and in the dark. Happy holidays! 

That leaves time off. Your time off does belong to you. The only catch here is when you get that time off. The time you need the most, before and during the holidays, is the busiest retail time of all. Don't expect time to prepare for the feasts, decorations, presents, and visits one traditionally enjoys on those days. Don't even expect Thanksgiving or Christmas Day off.

Thanks to an employed Hubby, I could afford to leave the 'simple retail life.' It was quite an experience. I respectfully salute retail workers everywhere; it's not an easy gig and the pay sucks. I salute the Golden Age of Retail; it was a magical time.  But most of all, I salute... my employed Hubby!  Thanks, Babe! Thankyou thankyou thankyou! 

First Place They'll Look

My friend Beth and I invented a goofy game called, "That's the First Place They'll Look."

It started when she was getting ice cubes from my freezer and found fifty bucks under the ice tray. "That's where you keep your emergency money?  That's the first place they'll look!" she laughed. It evolved into a game. One of us would suggest a place in the house to hide valuables or emergency cash, and the other one would chant, "That's the first place they'll look!"

By the time the ice cubes and, of course, the corresponding drinks ran out (because the game is way more fun with alcohol) we had a wild list of  'first places' for our imaginary robber to look; under area rugs, inside books, under the dirty clothes, in the radio's battery compartment, zipped into the couch cushion upholstery, and stuffed into the drape hem.

After we recovered from our hangovers, some things occurred to Beth and me:

1. Never hide anything when you are drunk.
2. Even sober, we'd forget where we hid something if we got too creative.
3. People donate things, wash things, toss things, and loan things.
4. If the house was on fire, could we get to the valuables in time to save them?
5. Robbers might steal whatever you've hidden the valuables in. The radio? A knick-knack on the mantle? Anything in the medicine cabinet?

Then the game evolved into "Lost or Stolen." It's kind of like "Rock/Paper/Scissors" except more drinking is necessary to understand the rules. In the evolved game, one of us thinks of a hiding place as the other chooses Lost/Stolen.

Beth would write down either "lost" or "stolen" as I wrote down a hiding place. For example, I wrote "old robe pocket in guest closet." If Beth wrote "stolen" I win...old robes are not a high priority for thieves. If she wrote "lost" she wins, because eventually that cash would be forgotten and lost with the robe...someday tossed, donated, cleaned, or (God forbid) destroyed in a fire or flood.

Years have passed since we played that little game.  I live half a country away from my old friend.  Someday I'll email her to tell her the news that I finally found a totally foolproof hiding place.  It's called "noplace."  Now that I'm unemployed there is no emergency money.

Time to stop writing. I have to go hide a house key in the yard so I won't get locked out again next time I go out job-hunting. I wonder what's the last place they'd think of looking?

Cuppa Woe

I'm currently drinking a cuppa joe that was produced by a single-serve brewer. It's fine coffee. But I can't help but feel that this style of specialized coffeemaker solves the wrong problem. 

The problem isn't, "How can I spend too much for designer coffee every day without having to leave the house?  At least, not my problem.  No doubt 'Big Coffee' spent months debating how to get people to pay them Starbuck-like prices without having to supply baristas, location, tables, rest rooms, air conditioning, napkins, condiments, internet connectivity, and ambience.  They solved their problem, alrighty.

My problem is that our Olde Faithful coffeemaker bit the dust. Noooo-oooo! Every morning, I need good coffee. Right away! Sooner! Morning coffee should be easy enough that someone who hasn't had their morning coffee can make it. Of course it needs to be good too. That lukewarm brown water Mom serves up ain't gonna cut it, Joe. 

We hurriedly got a replacement but I couldn't get it to brew coffee on command.  It insisted on being programmed.  Don't scream "Luddite!"  I was a programmer once, and I love gadgety stuff.  But it has to work.  It should follow the "critical path" we all learned about in project management class.  Once it has water and beans, there should be a button you press to start brewing. If you want features beyond that, they should be available. 

Alas. This beast had no "Now" mode.  None of the buttons said "On."  Sometimes it started brewing the 2nd or 3rd time I pushed the top button, other times I had to keep trying. Probably it was a faulty machine. But you know how frustrating the return-repair process is, and it should NEVER be attempted by a woman who hasn't had her morning coffee.  So I sent the piece of crap to its new home in the landfill and got a $30 one at the grocery store.  It was awful but at least it had an "On" button that worked. 

All was well until our bean grinder died of plastic fatigue. I couldn't find a replacement that delivered the same lack of features. I wanted to fill it with beans, put on the lid, and push down on the lid to grind.  If I wanted a coarser grind that day, I didn't push down as long.  The closest I could find for a replacement was oval instead of round, ensuring that the grinding was uneven.  You either got expresso-fine powder or half-beans, usually both.  Other models had more settings than our blender, and cost nearly as much. No thanks.

Then one day they stopped selling the beans I favored.  That was it. It was time for us to shift millenia and go for the single-serve model.  The maker I chose was very pricey. I could have gotten 3 grocery store coffeemakers, 3 grinders, and a year's worth of filters.  The price of the coffee is also fairly high, about 85 cents a cup.  I'll have to use it for a long time to recoup the cost.  Compared to a daily donation to Ye Olde Nearby Coffee Shoppe, I've already broken even, but that's not the right metric.  I would never drive to a coffee shop. ("Operate a car before I've had coffee?  You can't be serious.  And if I've had coffee, why get more? That ship has sailed, Gail") 

Conclusion? The coffee is, honestly, a little better than before. However, the morning coffee routine is a little more involved, and our grocery bill is a little higher.  All in all, it's ok... but I sure miss the old grind.