Woof! Woof!

I received an anonymous letter from one of my neighbors. Because it is anonymous, I am unable to respond and apologize. But since it's anonymous, I can put it on the Internet. So here it is, with my response.
Dear Neighbors,
I'm writing to you regarding your dog. I haven't lived here for very long, but since that other family with the annoying barking dog moved from the neighborhood, it has been a relatively peaceful area. [S/He's referring to the people who lived at Meg's house, I think. I never heard their dog, but they had dogs and they moved away.] Until recently. It shows a tremendous lack of consideration toward your neighbors to let your dog bark from your porch at whatever it sees. This is not a small dog. Its voice is loud and thunderous and is amplified off the other houses. The dog is frequently waking my daughter from her naps, and me from mine, especially when you let it bark at night. Couldn't you keep the dog in your back yard, or get a muzzle for it. I'm getting very frustrating and don't know what else to do, other than calling the police, which I'd rather not do.

So please show some respect and consideration for the other families living in the area and train your dog not to bark. Thank you!!!!!!!

Sincerely,

Your Neighbors

Dear Anonymous Neighbor,
It is unfortunate that this couldn't be resolved face to face. It shows a tremendous lack of neighborliness.

We've had our dog since November. In that time, I've left him on the porch no more than 5 times, and no more than one or two hours. We don't leave him out all night. We don't leave him out during the day. He's in the house when we aren't around or it's night time. I wonder then, if you're not hearing another dog. In the past week I tied him on the porch twice and when he started to bark too much, I brought him in.

I apologize if he disturbed you and your daughter. (Frequently? I find that hard to believe, given the rarity I've put him on the porch) He does have a loud bark. I won't put him on the porch any more.

In the future, please speak with us directly if there is an issue that can easily be resolved between neighbors. We, including our dog, don't bite.

Sincerely,
Your neighbor


I asked one of our other neighbors if he can hear the dog barking when he's in the house. He said no. I am really irritated by the anonymous note addressed to neighbors. There's nothing neighborly about it.

Last year, the people who own a quadruplex down the street let their shrubs grow out into the sidewalk. I wrote to them and asked them to trim them. They did, and then wrote me back, apologizing, and thanking me for bringing it to their attention (they live a few towns over). I would never write an anonymous note to another neighbor. But that's just me. Gosh. I know I'm in the wrong here. I need to stop putting the dog on the porch (it's really been a handful of times). But I'm pissed because I can't talk to this person about it. Maybe there's another dog that is left outside more than Jeddy. What happens when I stop my behavior, but the other person doesn't? Will my "neighbor" call the police on me?

Congo Square, New Orleans (More Playtesting)

I'm not going to go into too many details about this one. We played for about an hour, and had to leave--with people wanting more! Yay! It was with 2 people I've played rpg's with, one person I've played a game with (Werewolves of Miller's Hollow, which is sort of a rpg), and one person I've never played rpg's with: my handsome and princely husband. That was in interesting experience right there.

The setting was New Orleans 1840-1850. I borrowed characters from our Prime Time Adventures game from last year, which meant I didn't play for absolute historical accuracy. No one's master or slave driver came into play. Because it was a city, everyone had a different one. They all congregated at Congo Square. They made lots of bargains with each other, which would have been awesome to see used in a major conflict. Awesome interactions. I loved the pace of this one. The GM (me) had less involvement since there weren't any subjugators in play. I did get to play a free person of color who was sweet on a slave (played by my husband, by sheer coincidence).

I noticed that I had to referee more though. Maybe it's just a part of explaining the mechanics, but there was one bargain where the risk to one of the PC's was huge compared to the risk to the other player, and it wasn't very plausible either. I can do anachronism, abandoning historical accuracy, but I need plausibility. I had to get them to really think about it.

I also noticed that it's helpful to do worth assessments at the end of a session. I already knew that, but I see how I might have mis-assessed some people in the other playtest. On the other hand, I like that, too. The GM assessing worth is like the auctioneer deciding where to open bidding. The assessment will be based on the going rate plus the auctioneer's own prejudices.

Another interesting thing that came up (and I was waiting for it to come up), was a clear clash between modern ideals of sex, paternity, and male dominance, versus the Antebellum ideals of sex (with slaves), paternity (of the offspring resulting in the likely forced sex with slaves), and male dominance, where white men--more specifically white male property owners were at the top of the food chain. I have mull on that a bit more before I write about it.

Anyway, all my ideas and fears of people creating stereotypes are fast fading. I'm seeing that players are creating real people who happen to be slaves. On Sunday, I saw people create characters who, if they died suddenly, I think the player would be jarred, maybe hurt because he/she cared for the person. That made me happy, not in a sadistic way, but in an intent becomes reality way.

In non gaming news....
I have a job interview today for job I would totally take if offered, and I'm totally qualified for it. And it pays better than what I make now. And I could almost say I'm using my degree for it. Sort of. Roll some Lucky Sevens for me (which you'd get if you read the draft rules of my game).

I added ginger to one of my kombucha batches last week. It is soooo freakin' good. So good that my handsome and princely husband couldn't wait to drink it. It's all he talked about. He wants to bottle it and sell it, or give it away. I'm trying to get him to give kombucha babies to his co-workers. And yes, I have many kombucha babies for anyone interested. Kombucha will change your life. Really.

First playtest of the new rules

Wow. I'm a sucky GM, but I think I can learn.

Let's focus on the real stuff though. First session went well. Nearly everything I loved about what I wrote totally worked. I think it's interesting that all the PC's are male. I wasn't expecting that, but this morning in the shower I figured out something diabolically horrible that would work with that, and I'm excited to put my friends' characters through some torture. Clearly I need to turn up the bad.

So here's a run down of the characters. Here's the playtest report, so I'm just teasing you here. Go to the Forge and see what happened to the characters.

PC's
Cupit (Emily) a 22 year old male field slave, born in Florida. His Attributes: Nimble hands, friends who escaped in Florida, can run far and long, doesn't act seriously about anything, and is handsome. I'm going to skip the Motivations for now, so I don't cheat and look at their tasks and goals!
Friends: Ginny, who works in the house and is pregnant. May or may not be his child; Crissy.
Enemy: Martial
Worth: 12d6 (unskilled young man)

Martial (Joshua), 29 year old blacksmith (slave), born in West Africa. Attributes: Proud, has a bunch of tools, can read Arabic and French, is good looking, and "I'll own my own slaves".
Friends: Ginny (same as Cupit), Ephraim, the late Master's 10 yo son.
Enemy: William Jackson, the overseer.
Worth: 14d6 (skilled--blacksmith, young man young man)

Kato (Vincent), 17 years old, field slave, born on the Strong Plantation. Attributes: "I've got 2 thumbs and 5 fingers", "I'm tall, kinda knobby", "I'm a really steady worker", "I'm good with horses and dogs".
Friends/relations: Older brother Ned; the cook, Anne.
Enemies: Tom, William Jackson
Worth 10d6 (unskilled young man, missing fingers, minus 2d6 for his disability)

Tom (Meg),27, field slave. Born in Georgia. Attributes: Strong back, steady worker. Excellent memory & a good voice for stories, songs, news. Friendly and easy going. Children somehere?
Friends: Jonah, older field hand, Lucy, a cousin and housemaid
Enemy: Sterling, Lucy's suitor, Crissy's brother.
Worth: 12d6 (unskilled young man)

Sing It, Johnny.

I hate my job. Today was the absolute last straw. After being yelled at the most insanely silly thing, I had to go into the back room for a moment to talk myself out of walking out right there. I've never walked out on a job. I had to do some serious convincing of myself, as in holding my hand down as I reached for my coat. I've had jobs that I hated before. I hated waiting tables, I hated working in a clothing store. Crappy jobs. I shouldn't hate this job, but I do. It pays okay, the hours are decent, my boss is okay when she's not acting crazy, my co-workers are inocuous and actually quite nice. The work isn't horrible. Not exciting, either, but not horrible. And I can walk to work if I don't have to drop kids off. There's nothing wrong with my job except for my boss' unpredictable behavior, and it's enough to send me packing.

I'm taking a break from writing some directed cover letters. From those I'll write some generic cover letters, got the resume looking spiffy.

I just had to get that off my chest. I really hate my job.

Yeah, so, about those crocuses....

...buried under a foot of snow.

Saturday Chris (so sick of calling him Primo. Who doesn't know my husband's name is Chris? And who really cares?) and I went to see 300. It was entertaining enough, but first I must tell about the really cool thing about the movie. Tag team movie going! Meg and Vincent went to the movies first while we watched their kids, then we went to the movies while they watched our kids. My wish for having cool neighbors is coming true double fold.

So I liked the movie. It was like watching a comic book. And visually oriented person that I am, I didn't care that the dialogue sucked. It was a fun and fluffy movie. Here are the fun and fluffy things I liked about it.
The Casting Call
Buff, beefy, and beautiful need only apply. But I was put off by the fact that all those buff and beefy men had absolutely no chest hair, yet the most lush beards this side of Grizzly Adams. We're talking the Mediterranean, right? Whatever. There's a day spa out there with a really handsome chest waxing clientele.

Incredible Cinematography
It was like watching a comic book come to life. Which I guess it was.

Didn't take itself too seriously
At times I couldn't get past Xerxes stupid cheek piercings, and this movie will not win any awards for wardrobes (all those buff men in stupid looking loincloth/underwear were infernally distracting), but I don't think was its purpose. It was meant to be a movie with lots of near naked men running with spears, yelling and sweating like a deodorant commercial. It should have been called 300: Eye Candy and Violence.

All the women were beautiful
Equal opportunity hotties.

Kill Your Rapist
This wasn't really cool, but the one woman who had actual lines got to stab the man who raped her. It reminded me of a provocative tattoo I once saw of two pistols on either side of the woman's lower abdomen, and the words "Kill Your Rapist". Not something I would get, but a memorable and well done tattoo. I wish I could find a picture.
Here it is!

Faramir, Brother of Boromir
David Wenham, liberated from his ugly Two Towers/Return of the King wig, sigh. Sean Bean, who?

It was an entertaining movie. I still would have liked to have seen The Last King of Scotland, but Primo/Chris paid for everything. Maybe next week, since we saved money from not having a babysitter and from going to the matinee.

Hocus Crocus!

I have two yellow crocuses emerging in my front yard! Okay, so they aren't as beautiful as the ones in the photo. They're in my yard and it's mid March. That's why they're so cool.
My friend Rachel and I took Jed for a nice long and somewhat strenuous hike to Poet's Seat Tower this afternoon. The woods smelled like spring, the snow was slushy and slick. It sure beat working out at the Y.
The temperature was in the mid 60's today. I felt overdressed in my corduroy skirt.

We might get 1-3 inches of snow on Friday. March. New England. C'est la vie.

Playtest Me!

**Playtesting is over! Buy a copy!**

Last night I put the finishing touches on the rules draft of Steal Away Jordan. You can download the .pdf and the ugly character sheet here, on the condition that you playtest it and send me constructive feedback.

I've been going back and forth on the name. It's supposed to be the title of a spiritual, but it's actually the combined titles of two spirituals: "Get Away Jordan" and "Steal Away to Jesus." Jordan refers to the Ohio River. Cross over Jordan and you're in free territory. "Steal Away Jordan" just sounds good, though, and who's to say there isn't a song by that name?

Thanks in advance to all those nice playtesters who send constructive feedback.
Please leave a comment here if you download something.

Update!
The first playtest report!
The characters of the first playtest!

Mary Jackson 1885--??

On your right you see the one who looked most like how I imagined Mary Jackson, aka Parvati the Elastic Lady, formerly known as Elizabeth Batchelor to look like. I was first drawn to her eyes. She's cuter than she's beautiful, and I didn't imagine Mary to be a "hottie" per se, but to look as if she never aged a day over 17 (the age she was when she was almost lynched in New Orleans for Edmund's crimes.) I had mentioned earlier that I wanted to have fun with the idea that she could "pass" (she was caught impersonating a white woman), but unless she was shapeshifting, she wouldn't. This woman could probably pass if she wanted to. Judging from her clothes (and her wedding dress in the other picture), she came from a middle class black family, which was Mary's background. She joined the circus when her parents sent her to away to school. I think she knew she had a gift and wanted to see how she could use it. And she wanted to go on an adventure. The more she understood the gift, the more she liked the money and fun of grifting, and she realized she could not go back home. Then she got in trouble and really couldn't go home. Elizabeth Batchelor was dead. She was Mary Jackson.
And there's that ruffle. At first is was distracting, but did fit her, and stylishly concealed the noose scar.

So now that I have fabricated a history for this young lady, and our game is over, I'm really curious as to who she really is. Unfortunately, most of the portraits from the collection are of unknown men and women. Oh well. Elizebeth (with an "e") Batchelor (1873-1935) is actually a relative of mine, and she is buried in the family cemetary in Brownsville, TN.

In the spirit of this wonderful post by Meg on the Forge from our Sorcerer game, here is a letter that Mary wrote to her sister after all was said and done.
Summer 1911
Dear Sarah,
I enclose this old picture so that you know that Elizebeth batchlor wrote this letter. You'll remember it was taken just before your wedding in '01. I've not been called Elizabeth in many years, and most who know me outside of Savannah call me Mary Jackson. I'm sure it is a surprise to know that I had been alive all these years. Even more surprising, I mostly live in Paris, France. Remember how much I hated our French tutor? Well, I was listening.

I returned home once in April '02, but you all thought I had been lynched in New Orleans, and that was essentially the truth, but I did not die. I did not let you all know I was home because after attending my own memorial service, where I heard the testimony of how much pain I had caused you all by running away, I could not cause more by having to explain what happened to me. When I returned to my wandering I did not contact you or our parents as I fell in and out of trouble. Trouble follows me everywhere, and I did not want that trouble to reach you all. Yet, not a day passed since I ran away from home that you all have haunted my thoughts.

A year into my travels I discovered the name for my chameleon talent. Here's a funny word for you: I am a 'Shapeshifter.' There are many of us throughout the world. We tend to live on the fringes of polite society (much to mother's chagrin, so don't tell her that), blending in when we want to, retreating to the shadows when we have to. There are all types, like races, I suppose. I was recently formerly accepted into a sorority of shapeshifting contortionists who specialize in theft of identity in Paris, my new home. I have travelled through Europe and America, as a performer, and I have made a name for myself as a gifted contortionist and acrobat. If you must tell Mother and Daddy about this letter, please don't tell them I am a thief. Tell them I am a stage performer, and you won't be a liar.

This past year I toured with an interesting group of performers throughout Europe. I will only say that I have made good use of my acrobatic and stage talents, as well as my more nefarious gifts. I have three main companions: Ozcan, the handsomest white man I've ever seen. He has been like an older brother to me. He has a sister in Ireland, and bacause of some things he has done, he is not able to send for her. I still have no interest in political issues, and I think his family problems are tied up in English politics. I don't pretend to understand them. Our troupe has disbanded, and I have not heard from him since. I read an English newspaper that said he had died, but Ozcan is difficult to kill. The newspaper showed a photograph of his body riddled with bullets. I know all those bullets couldn't kill him that easily.

Then there's Chintzer, who eats things like live chickens! He looks like he should live under a bridge, but you'll never meet a more refined human being. I've never been one to judge by appearance alone (given I can change mine at will), I am not one to marry or settle, and I don't enjoy men's company, but if the stars were aligned differently, and I was more amenable to marriage, settling, and men, I think Chintzer (Arthur is his real name) would be a suitable candidate for a mate. I will keep my eye on him, in the unlikely event that I change my mind.

And lastly there is Edmund, an odious animal who was the root of all my trouble in New Orleans. He was the killer who should have hanged in my stead, and I suspect he did terrible things before and after that. And when I say "animal", I mean he is a werewolf--a cursed cousin of shapeshifters. I have only met two before him, and they were decent fellows. But not Edmund. Edmund is covered top to tail in tattoos which I believe he had applied to hide the shame of his deeds in life. He is a truly frightful thing to see. I saw him cut a piece of a man's arm, cook it, and eat it. Perhaps he didn't know that a 17 year old colored girl would never see fair justice. There is a naive part of me that wants to believe that.

At any rate, Edmund is in the past tense. I had the pleasure of killing him several months ago, and it was worth the trouble that followed. I write this letter en route to England to finish off his sister. I know I sound cold and brutal. Being brutalized and hanged by a lynch mob will do that to a person.

I have missed having a sister and a family all these years. I close with the request you be the sensible sister that you always were, and if you tell our parents anything tell them that I take care of myself as best I can, but that my path in life leads me through down some dark roads. It is up to you to tell them when I actually died, either in New Orleans in 1902 (because so much of me did it would not be a lie), tell them I am alive and well and living in Paris. I hope you will take the trouble to write me back and tell me how everyone at home is. But if not, I will understnad. Just know that I remain your wayward but loving sister.

All my love,
Elizabeth

In Bed, Between the Sheets, etc.

We had Chinese food tonight. All of our fortune cookies worked wonderfully with the traditional addendum "between the sheets". Some people say "in bed" at the end of their fortune phrase. They made me happy, but since I'm with my mom and daughters I couldn't really share with them. So here:

People find it difficult to resist your persuasive manner....
Executive ability is prominent in your make up....
Share your happiness with others today....
You have a yearning for perfection....
And my favorite:
God will give you everything that you want....

Buy the shirt!

"I like them rough neck thugged-out guys."

Primo and I have an ongoing joke about our "girlfriends" and "boyfriends". Each evening while cooking dinner we chat in the kitchen, and the conversation goes a little like this:
Me: So I ran into one of my boyfriends today at lunchtime.
Primo: Which one?
Me: Insert name of random cute guy I see on the street. [I often refer to actual people we know, and while I'm pretty sure said actual people don't read this, one can never be too careful. Why spoil the fun? Why embarrass myself more than I already probably am?]
Primo: And what did you do?
Me: [graphic description of things I only do with my husband.]
Primo: Well when I go to the gym tonight, I know my girlfriend will be there, and I'm going to [graphic description of things he only does with his wife].
Then there's lots of laughing and groping and everyone's happy.

There's much more to it, but I'll skip ahead. I ask Primo:
"So are you jealous of my boyfriends, since you know them?"
Primo: No, of course not, because I know I could beat the shit out of them. Don't you want to beat up my girlfriends?
Me: No, not really...
I can see that he's waiting for me to say yes. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't.

Holy smokes! Is jealousy part of the fun of this game for me or Primo? If I was actually having a relationship outside of my marriage, it probably wouldn't be with any of my chosen "boyfriends", and Primo the hippie Quaker, is not one to beat someone up unless someone threatened his family. Then again, he's a big burly guy, and I wouldn't pick a fight with him if I was one of my suitors. If there were suitors. But there it is. It's great fun to imagine Primo brawling over me.
Silly but true, I still like them rough neck thugged-out guys. I thought I'd had my fill of them. I met Primo, fell in love with him, and for a good six months waited for him to do something shitty to me, like break up with me for no reason; or do something stupid and bad, like get arrested. It never happened. He treated me like a queen and still does, and hopefully I do the same to him. Even sillier is that I like to watch Primo pretend posture like a thug. He's surprisingly good at it.

On Primo's end, I'm his only long-term relationship, so other than his physical preferences, I don't know if he likes bad girls. I don't think he does, and I'm a poor representation of one anyway. But when we play our girlfriend/boyfriend joke, he often asks if I would beat up one of his girlfriends if I saw her on the street. Obviously the reality is that I would not. But I do see the glimmer in his eye when I say, "Oh course, darling, I'd waste the b-yotch who messes with my man."

And once I wished Primo would play role-playing games with me. We already do.

Giving Birth Took Less Time

And labor didn't stall. I wish there was pitocin for creative endeavors. Here's where you will find the pdf of the draft rules and character sheet for Steal Away Jordan. As of writing this, I have the character sheet available. The draft rules are on their way. Stay tuned. They're so close I could eat the paper and not fret, but given my nervous stomach, I would probably get pretty sick, so I'm not going to do that.

Now that I've picked up momentum, writing this is pretty fun again. Yay!

The character sheet is ugly, I know. I'll make it pretty later.

I Could Have Said The Dog Ate My Homework

I need one more day before the draft rules of Steal Away Jordan will be ready to email to the nice folks who asked for one. But it's not becuase I haven't been working on it. I just need to type up the stuff I've worked on all weekend. I actually have working rules! Well, they work hypothetically. I incorporated everything I had [maggot] brainstormed. Unfortunately, forces beyond my control prevented me from actually typing any of it into an electronic document. But I was really productive, just in the old school, computerless way.

Friday, instead of going to Drum and Dance as originally planned, I was to go grocery shopping and then to either Cafe Koko or Lady Killegrew/Montague Book Mill and geek out with my laptop, some tea, and a pastry. Well, Primo came home from the gym late (why he needed to go to the gym for 2 1/2 hours when he planned to go snowboarding all day on Saturday is beyond me, and to comtemplate it any further will just make me sound like a bitchy wife.). So I could only go to Cafe Koko. So off I went, laptop on my back, Smashing Pumpkins blaring in my ears. At least I had the good sense to wear hiking boots. The sidewalks were crazy slick, and the roads were just as icy. Halfway down my street, I lost my balance and fell hard on my ass. I had to crawl to less slippery ground. I got up and kept walking, even though I felt like I had broken my butt. Ouch.

So I get to the cafe, and there's a live band. Great. Now when I was in college, I indulged in my vice to a much higher degree and listened to music all the time while I studied and wrote papers. I was a Religion major. It kinda worked. So I figured, no big deal, I can write game rules while a little "different" (as we used to call it) and there's music--loud music playing. And my back still hurt from the fall. Well, it would have been easier if a good band was playing, but they sucked. I stayed anyway. I didn't want to walk home just yet. So I pulled out my laptop and turned it on...and nothing happened. I figured I needed to plug it in. Well, that would be easy to do if there was an empty seat near an outlet. Fine, whatever, I like to write stuff out longhand anyway. I wrote a few pages on the role of the Rootdoctor/Conjurer, and jotted notes on slvery and religion. But I wished God would show up and replace the bad funk bad with, say, Funkadelic circa 1975, so I could hear "Good Thoughts, Bad Thoughts" live. But She didn't. I went home at 10:30 and didn't fall once. When I got home I discovered that the laptop had actually booted up. That was strange.

Saturday I cleaned the house, went grocery shopping, and had people over for stuffed squid, simmered daikon, mochi, and pizza. I broke out the latest batch of kombucha. I accidentally didn't add as much sugar this time, and it was much fizzier and tangier than usual. Of the people who tried it, I like it, Ingrid likes it, Vincent said he liked it, Joshua defiled it by adding sugar and then he said he liked it, Bea said she liked it, but she didn't want more than a swallow. I don't know if anyone else tried it. The dog took a dump on the rug as people showed up. I poured myself a second glass of wine and took him for a walk. (I had the first while I cooked.) I had a third drink (some tasty beer) just before we watched The Illustrated Man. I didn't make to the end. I fell asleep sometime after Primo came home from snowboarding and before Emily left. Bad hostess! This is why I don't drink very often. Or maybe I fell asleep so quickly because I don't drink very often. Either way, no work all day on game, but time spent cleaning the house, running errands, enjoying the company of friends, and drinking more than I have since my wedding anniversary in November.

Today, Sunday, we went to my in-laws, and I brought my laptop. But I forgot the cord, and the laptop only had about 10 minutes of power-time. So again, I worked for a couple of hours and wrote in my cutie pie kitty cat notebook. I finished tweaking the rules and worked out some things that I can ask my mom about when she comes to visit. And now I've spent an hour typing an explanation for why I don't have the rules ready to give to all the nice people who asked, and it's time to go fold laundry.

Tomorrow evening, really and truly!

Getting Back on the Horse

To quote Funkadelic, "We are back in our minds again."

Last night I fell asleep around 8:45 and woke up at 10. Unable to go back to sleep, I decided to do what I should have done earlier in the week, and worked on my game for a couple of hours, which at one time was called Get Away Jordan, but I'm going back to Steal Away Jordan.

So the rules need more tweaking than I thought in some areas and seem to work (some tested already, some untested) in others. Then I realized something. [Okay, sometimes I'm not to keen on the obvious, so bear with me if I sound like a total space cadet.] I want the dice rolling and card counting to be more than just ways to move the story. The way rules are written now, I don't utilize superstition with numbers enough, I want there to be lots of superstition, and with a conjurer/root doctor and a required character in play (if the resident PC conjurer dies, the GM becomes a de facto average ability conjurer), there should superstition, omens, signs in everything. Add to that, I want dice rolling and card counting to relate to luck, gambling, and risk taking. So where does that leave me? Fortunately I was already going that way:

When you get a card from a conjurer it represents a trick or spell, and only black cards are effective. If you draw the Ace of Spades, you get what you want.

The skull die is still the great enticer. You can get what you want, or you can die.

I've now added some number symbolism. Lucky Seven, combinations of 3+4 and 5+2 (no, not 6+1.) I'm reserving 1's for possible bad luck/bad things to happen to you. Will decide tonight. But if you roll Lucky Sevens, you're...Lucky.

D6's are the dice of choice, so that I can return to the original incorporation of Yahtzee/Poker with dice idea.

In my head I've ironed out Motives and how they relate to Goals. Motives used have numeric value and the some of 3 Motives in a Goal was the number of points you had to get in order to get your Goal. Too complicated, so I fixed that. Motives are simply things you have to do before your Goal is attainable. Maybe they shouldn't be called motives anymore. Anyway, you check of you "Task/motive" and then you can play for your Goal. That part's a little fuzzy, but I think I can hammer it out fairly easy.

If you've never read the draft of the rules, I realize this won't make a lick of sense. But when I get home tonight, I can come back here and know where I need to go, so thanks for sitting in on my little (magotty) brain storm.

And yesterday, I went to Greenfield Games to get a birthday present for Primo. While I was there I thought to myself, "a scheduled playtest with probable strangers would be a great motivator." So I made arrangements with the owner (Seth?) to do a playtest or two in April. So that means I better have something ready really soon, and hopefully will have a chance to do a playtest among friends first (Please?).

My mom is coming next week to help me with the historical stuff. Yay for Mommy.

A pdf of the draft rules will be available here sometime Sunday, come hell or high water, so all those nice people who asked for one will get one. For real now.

And this is totally unrelated, but I have to share a cute offspring story. Last night Ingrid woke up and cried, "I want my Buddha!" Ingrid has two things she likes to carry around, feed, mother, and love: A knitted mermaid she calls "Moomie" and a 5 inch high terra cotta/concrete Buddha statue which she calls "My Buddha." I get the loving of the Moomie, but the Buddha? (Actually I get that, too, but I know Ingrid) Buddha is not snuggly and warm, he's concrete and he's cold. It's not fun when she wants to nurse and snuggle her Buddha. Brrrr! She used to take him into the house all the time and we'd sneak him back out. We don't bother to put him outside anymore. It's not like he's peeing in the house. At dinner he sits on her tray and she feeds him while Moomie sits in the seat next to her. Like I said, it's not really surprising that she carries around what is essentially her stone baby (ha ha!). Until fairly recently, she used to snuggle books when she went to sleep. She's not terribly into cuddly and plush.

Fun at the Library of Congress Website

Library of Congress Archives are really fun. I typed African American Woman in the search field, and got a ton of photos. I was originally looking for pictures for Steal Away Jordan, but got sidetracked by the 1900 photos and started imagining what Mary from our current game looked like. (Also wrote about her here) I picked one. Can you guess which one? Here are the potential Marys. I've added more choices, maybe I changed my mind. (I kept the old numbers the same)
Feel free to tell me your choice, and stay tuned for the answer.

Have some fun for yourself at our nation's library