First there's the college football thing.
Last night I watched a 2-4 team (blue) with its 3rd string QB, coming off its 3rd straight loss, beat an undefeated top-20-ranked team (orange). Blue is now at 3-4 and two of those victories have been over top-25 ranked teams. These two teams have played every year for the last several years. Every year I'm positive that blue is going to beat orange. Blue usually disappoints me. This year I was certain that orange would win--sometimes it feels good to be wrong. It's a great rivalry and I like both teams, but I would be less than sincere (so I suppose that means I would have a little bit of wax--see the etymology for "sincere" if you don't get that) if I didn't note a sliver of schadenfreude regarding some of the fans who consistently degrade blue, considering that orange will probably drop from the top 20 and will lose the shot it had at a prestigious bowl game. I think it proves that it's infinitely more fun to knock someone down than merely to kick them after they've fallen--although that can be fun too.

***

Regarding this:

Last time I mentioned this book by Will Wright, I was 20% through and pleased with the quality of the writing as well as the promise of the story. I didn't get much farther into it before my ardor waned. The quality of the writing held, but my interest in the story did not. Although I seriously considered dropping the book (figuratively speaking of course as I have it as an ebook), I did finish based on the quality and original promise. My reluctance stemmed from the fact that the story is a derivative of the Cthulhu Mythos. Lovecraft did what he did very well, but he's not my favorite. I read Lovecraft because I consider it mandatory material to understand some aspects of the fantasy genre, but there's very little of it that I enjoy. While I enjoyed the characters in this book, and became intrigued with the Reading and filling with Intent aspects, the Elder gods stuff and the island that was a dead god, and the weird monsters turned me away. I won't be reading the second book in the series. I will, however, try some of this author's other works which I obtained when he made them all free for a day or two.

***

I also previously mentioned trying my new skirmish rules with characters from my Tomahawks and Dragon Fire fantasy series set in revolutionary America. I did it sometime last week.

The picture shows the initial set up. It's a scene from one of the books. My woodland Indian figures (on which I've never completed the finishing touches of paint) are standing in for the Indians in the story. Various Lord of the Rings figures are representing the dragon hunters. I didn't think to take any other photos, but the after action report follows. My recollection is that Felgar was played by the warrior of Rohan on the right. On the same side was Aragorn taking the role of Atu. On the left, Hugh was played by the Legolas figure. Akira was played by the elf with the sword over his head. Akram was portrayed by the Haradrim warrior with the spear at the upper left. The warriors have pursued the hunters who have put together an impromptu ambush, using the women (Cat, Coronia, and Velisha) and the unarmed Quintus as bait for the trap. Quintus and the women at the very top of the picture are played by some unpainted figures from the musketeers collection. The weapons available were limited as per the events in the story. The action played out somewhat differently than in the book:

1. The Hunters get initiative.

--Felgar activates and moves into combat with Warrior 2 (W2). He wounds W2 before W1 joins the fight. Akram rushes W4, knocking him down and then putting him hors de combat with a wicked spear thrust. (another warrior with W4's stats will enter next turn). Hugh fails his first activation attempt and W1 takes the opportunity to attack Felgar--but rolled a Tragic Failure, giving the Hunters an Heroic Point to use during the turn--and which Hugh immediately uses to re-roll one of his activation dice on his second activation. He moves against W5, but fails his third attempt resulting in a Turnover. The natives take the initiative.

--W1 attacks Felgar who is double-teamed by W1 and W2 (whom Felgar has wounded). W1 drives a spear into Felgar, seriously wounding the big warrior. Felgar powers his way through the pain to avoid going hors de combat and maintains his morale but is knocked down. W1 attacks again but without result. He fails his third activation attempt, allowing Atu to activate and contact W1 to help out the fallen Felgar. W3 moves toward the women with the intent to take one hostage to force the surrender of the others; he cannot get past the big Irish wolfhound George (played by a warg figure on this occasion). W6 rolls a Turnover.

2. Initiative passes back to the Hunters.

-- Atu uses one of his Heroic Points to bump his activation total to allow him to attack W1. He gains a maneuver and switches places with W1 so that the warrior won't be able to attack Felgar. He fails his second activation; W2 tries but can't react. For his 3rd action, Atu attacks W1 again and succeeds in pushing the warrior away. Akram dashes to W2, bumping his roll with an Heroic Point to attack on his second action. Akram delivers a serious wound to the already wounded warrior. W2 makes the Challenge Roll (miraculously) to avoid going hors de combat, but his courage fails him and Akram slays him as he turns to flee.(Another warrior with his stats will enter next turn). Akram moves into contact with W3 who is also engaged in combat with George. Hugh attacks W5 but neither combatant finds an advantage. Akira throws himself upon W6 but the warrior meets the attack, wounding Akira and knocking him down. Akira passes the morale check. He tries to rise, rolling a Stunning Success - rising and attacking-- to push away the warrior. Felgar regains his feet and moves in against W1, joining Atu.

--The initiative passes to the warriors. The new W4 rolls to activate and re-enter; he does so, racing to Akira who gives him a serious wound, immediately rendering him hors de combat (giving the W4 character true redshirt status). W6 attacks Akira and knocks him down but the hunter reacts to get to his feet. When he fails again, Atu attacks W1 but is pushed back by that warrior who spends his last Heroic Point to reroll one die to keep from being slain--and it pays off with Favorable Impetus and keeps him alive. W5 attacks Hugh with his first action; Hugh pushes the warrior away. Atu reacts back into contact with W1. W1 acts, attacking Felgar who uses his remaining Heroic Point to make it a narrow victory and pushes W1 to the ground. W1 bounces back to his feet. W3 attacks George. The result is a tie, resulting in a withdrawal, but W3 is blocked by Akram, so he elects to attack the hunter at -2 (which does not count as a separate action) rather than to attempt to squeeze past. W3 has to burn his only Heroic Point to have a chance in the combat. The result is a tie; this time Akram and W3 remain in contact. W3 activates and attacks Akram again, pushing him away. W3 uses his remaining action to rejoin combat with George.

3. Initiative passes to the hunters.

--Roll for Alex's entry: Alex and Iago appear. Which immediately gives every warrior a reaction attempt: W1 fails; W3 fails; W6 fails; W5 moves back into contact with Hugh.

Alex continues--and rolls a turnover.

--The new W2 arrives on another path. Atu reacts to attack W1, uses his last Heroic Point, but only succeeds in getting a maneuver, which he declines to use. W1 attacks Felgar, knocking him down. He attacks again. Felgar uses the re-roll ability provided by Alex being on the board. W1 still wins the combat but can only maneuver, and withdraws. Atu reacts and closes with W1. W3 continues the fight with George, taking a wound and being driven back with the dog still on him. The wound panics him and he runs out of reach of the beast. Atu reacts to attack W1 resulting in each breaking away from contact. W5 attacks Hugh; they end by breaking contact. W6 finally succeeds in activating and attacks Akira. Akira benefits from the Alex effect and puts W6 hors de combat.

4. The Initiative passes to the hunters.

--Alex makes a long move and then turns over the initiative.

--W1 moves to attack Akram but cannot make the attack. Alex reacts and attacks W5, giving him a serious wound and putting him out of the combat. (No more warriors will reinforce after Alex enters). W3 contacts Atu and Alex reacts to attack W1, giving him a serious wound and putting him hors de combat. Alex reacts again, attacking W2, also putting him hors de combat. W3 loses his will to fight and flee, to meet a ball from Lee's rifle, putting him out of action. 

Eight warriors were slain or rendered hors de combat. Alex did very little when he had initiative but his reactions resulted in 3 of the warriors being eliminated from combat. It would've been interesting to see what would have happened had Alex not appeared, or had been delayed. None of the hunters were killed or lost the ability to fight because of their wounds, but it was only by tremendous good fortune that Felgar stayed in the fight and his wounds prevented him from being as effective as he should've been.

We arrived here on Monday and began the nine and one half mile hike through rugged country in the middle of the day--during the hottest week of the year. 

Part of the view from the first summit. The smoke from the nearby fires wasn't too bad that first day.

It was somewhere near here that we met two diminutive lads who mentioned something about being on their way to return a piece of jewelry that had been giving them problems.

I haven't succeeded yet in downloading the remaining pictures. The story of the death march and the successful plotting of a new book will wait until I can get the other photos--the much better ones-- included.
***

I did get back in time to attend a daughter's wedding. There are days that shine like the brightest stars in the firmament. Yesterday was one of those days. To see one's children gathered in an important place, doing the right things for the right reasons is a premium parental pay-day. I couldn't help but look upon them and say, "I guess we didn't totally mess up. We may have even done a thing or two correctly." Of course, the self-congratulations may be hollow. Probably, the material we had to work with had an innate resilience; the other influences, especially that of my wife, overcame most of my mistakes in the life lessons and personal responsibility department.

The wedding was a wonderful and simple affair followed by an excellent luncheon put together by the groom's family. Fantastic souls turned out to setup for the reception at our home in the evening.

The canvas of this daughter's life is painted in laughter. I'm sure that pattern will continue. Tears and sweat mark the canvas in vivid colors as well, but the dominant theme has been that of fun and good-spirits. She has matured much in the last two years. As she pushes away from the secure shores of youth to set out upon the windswept waters of adult responsibility, there is an air of expectation, an aspiration for life on a higher plane united with another heart. The waves will roll, the storms may rage, but their quiet confidence in each other and in the principles that have brought them together will guide them through the difficulties of life. Of course, it may not be the rolling thunder, banks of fog, or tumultuous waves that present the greatest difficulties. The doldrums of life where supports seem absent and progress stalls often try the soul as severely as any storm. Tenacious perseverance and steadfast determination in the face of the seemingly empty void, like the long, slow trudge across the desert expanse, may build more character and unity than does the fierce melee against the contrary elements. May they live long and prosper in love, laughter, and learning of each other and the many subtle secrets of success.

My time as a Scalosian

Before I get to the main story: The first proofreader has completed the read through of Smoke, and pronounced it very good. She wasn't even disappointed in the ending. I would say more, but I don't want to spoil anything. Another proofreader has provided lavish praise from both herself, and her husband (I'm slightly wounded by the fact that his praise seemed to be of a surprised nature). Other comments from readers include: "Emotionally evocative," "Very good character development," "Excellent plot going on," "The descriptions are very clear." I could go on, but I don't want to boast--although I don't mind other people boasting for me.

***

"Stop talking to him!" I wanted to shout...but I didn't shout. I just said it loud enough that I could hear it; maybe the first two people in front of me heard it too; I don't know. They didn't react. Why did I care if one person talked to another? It was important. It wasn't just that I was in a desperate hurry (think Jackie Chan in one of the Rush Hour movies where he's scrambling for the detonator to the bomb that's taped inside his mouth kind of desperate hurry), I was about to miss watching my daughter perform in her team's final show at the state tournament; and I was trapped. 

I had already given my money and placed my order with the young lady who took the money and orders at the beginning of the sandwich line. She was quick, quick, I tell ya, quick at taking both orders and money. She also quickly placed the specified meat, cheese, and vegetable toppings on a plate. From that point on, everything progressed in slow motion. I'll get back to this.

The venue was one of those places that puts you through a metal detector and strip search before you enter. They weren't looking for weapons (although I think they do take those away if they find them). They were checking to make sure that no one was carrying anything to eat. Woe to the individual with a Snickers bar secreted in his pocket, or a club sandwich cached inside his coat. Possession of water was a capital offense.

After we made it through the food-free decontamination chamber, we had to find our seats. I had purchased reserved seats on-line. I had wanted to print them out. Not allowed. The reserved seat tickets could only be accessed via an app on the smart phone. As we had passed through the no-nourishment security zone, the guard had tapped the phone screen to validate the tickets. The tickets promptly disappeared. I couldn't remember the seat numbers. I thought that I did, but I wasn't sure. I went to the numbers that I thought that I remembered. There were already people in them, and they said that those seats were not reserved. We sat down in someone else's seats to be out of the way while I tried to recover the tickets on the phone. I knew they were someone else's because we hadn't been there one minute before some nice people showed up asking about those seats, wondering whether we had tickets for them. I admitted that we did not, but were only using them as a resting point while checking my phone for our actual seats. We moved back up to the area walkway. 

While I got much of the ticket information to materialize on my phone, the seat numbers remained trapped in the inscrutable ether of the nefarious app. I had my wife watch for security to see if they could help us. After a few minutes, she told me a security person was coming our way. I looked, expecting to find a hulking shaven-headed brute in an undersized t-shirt, and carrying a dumbbell and a walkie-talkie. Instead, I discovered a short lady who looked like she would've been more comfortable roaming the aisles of Wal-mart (Ooooh. New fictional setting idea: The Isle of Waal Maart--probably not). She couldn't make it work either. We thought maybe part of the problem could be the poor reception at our location. She said that her daughter could help, and that there was good phone reception where her daughter was. 

Reluctantly, I agreed to go with the woman to see her daughter. I was picturing a teenager. Nope. She was a hulking brute--not really. She was larger than either her mother or I. She was also a member of security. 

She took my phone, and said, "These tickets have already been validated."

I found her tone somewhat accusatory. "Yes," I said. "They validated them when we came in."

"Okay," she said. She did something very quickly that made the tickets appear, with seat numbers and everything. 

The seat numbers were those that I had remembered, except for being one section over. So I remembered the right seats, just the wrong section. The seats were very comfortable. We sat beside a nice couple from the other side of the state. The woman thought my wife looked familiar, but they couldn't ever put themselves at the same time and place. The man didn't say much. 

Fast forward about 5 hours. We're getting hungry; famished we were, and the nasty hobbitses wouldn't give us anything to eat. We hadn't wanted to buy anything at the 3 billion percent markup at the venue. At last I crumbled, mostly because I knew my wife needed something, even though she wasn't saying anything about it. At the break, I went in search, and found The One Ring little doughnuts with chocolate syrup and whipped cream. I didn't want those. That's all there was. I filled out a small title-loan application and received the doughnuts on the easy financing plan. My. Wife. Refused. To eat. Any. Of. Them. 

I noticed that the couple next to us had some bags of nuts. I asked the man where they got them. He told me that they got them on the other side of the stadium; there were many more food offerings over there. The break was nearly over, but I thought that I could go over there and kill a burger or something, and bring it back before my daughter's team performed--there were a few teams in front of hers; I had time. I had not accounted for Slow-Motion Man in my reckoning. 

I had chosen the sandwich line, rather than the burgers, or any of the various other splendid offerings, because I was in a hurry; it was the shortest line. I hadn't realized that the line passed through another dimension, a dimension of sight, of sound; a dimension where time stood still. No. Time didn't stand still, just the old guy who was supposed to be completing the sandwiches--he stood still. I felt like Kirk watching his crew after he had been drugged with the Scalosian water (See Wink of An Eye S3 E11). All the guy had to do was to put the meat, cheese, and vegetables on the bread (which all seemed backwards to me). To say that he moved at a snail's pace would be an understatement. I had to shave three times while I stood in line. 

So when the people who had been at the front of the line when I arrived (and by front, I mean already at Mr. Slow-Motion Man's spot), wanted to stand and talk to him after they had already received their sandwiches, I had difficulty maintaining the sweet, happy-go-lucky attitude for which I am known. I felt like John Pinette.

Eventually, Slow-Motion Man proved himself capable movement slightly faster than the shadow on a sundial. I got my sandwich, half for me, and half for my wife, along with a single bottle of water (I could't borrow enough on the second mortgage I had to take out to afford a second bottle). I hurried back into the stadium just in time to hear the announcer saying the name of my daughter's team. Great! I was just in time. 

It turned out that I was just in time to see them march off at the conclusion of their performance. Curse you, Mr. Slow-Motion Man!

But my wife was happy to have the sandwich. So I got that going for me.