More One Shot Weekend brainstorming

OSW 2011: Brainstorming and proposals


Board games? TCGs? Do we want these to be represented?

Warhammer 40K

Pathfinder Society Organized Play (6 player max)

Warhammer Dark Heresy (4-6 players?)

White Hart Inn (no chair limit)

Silly Super Heroes (10 player limit)

Fiasco (10 player limit?)

D&D 4E (6 player limit)




Veggie tray



Hot Dogs

Food will pretty much be self serve (after all who would want to man a food booth during all those games?); anything that needs to be cooked should ideally be something that can be fixed in less than ten minutes. I think that means either having a kitchen facility of some type (even just a microwave), disposable plates, napkins, cups, maybe cutlery if we are going to feed chili to people (it’s sort of hard to eat without at least a spoon). Most of what is listed here is easy to fix, with the exception of pizza (frozen pizza has to be cooked, and Papa John’s is amazing but kind of costly for this many people). Chili can be made way ahead of time and reheated if there’s a microwave or crock pot available, however it *might* also be on the pricey side.

As far as who would be doing the cooking, I’ll volunteer.


Warhammer 40K tables require approx 6ftx10ft (60 sqft) – that counts table space and walk-space (or chair space) around tables

6-player tabletop games require approx 6ftx10ft (60 sqft) – that counts table space and walk-space (or chair space) around tables

10-player tabletop games require approx 12ftx10ft (120 sqft) – two tables put together, plus walk and chair space

Games larger than 10 players will need some kind of special arrangement

Food Tables will require only about 6ftx6ft (36 sqft), but kitchen space may be needed for storage and prep; this must be explored further


Events that will definitely have to happen: setup, strike/cleanup; people will need to eat, so food will have to be set up, checked, replenished, and cleaned up.

How many games should happen simultaneously?

For sheer noise level I would say no more than three – one Warhammer and two table games. If we add in TCG gamers, we can stretch to five (thus including two TCG games); I have reservations about this because I have never seen TCG gamers behave with respect for other gamers in a convention setting, and I’m a little concerned about that issue.

Should there be “time slots” for certain games, and how flexible do they need to be?

I think slots might be useful just for logistics purposes, but I’m not sure how long they ought to be. Four to six hours seems like a lot of time, but from experience I think even the Pathfinder modules take between four and six hours to get through. I would also say that having the time slots allows us to juggle things around so that people don’t necessarily have to choose between two games they really want to be in, but which are going on simultaneously. If that makes any sense.

Game Master Roster

Sonja (White Hart, Silly Super Heroes, maybe Pathfinder)

Amanda (Pathfinder)

L.B. (Fiasco, 4E, maybe Dark Heresy)

Posted in D&D. 1 Comment »

Not a good night.

I had a bad night tonight.

More accurately a bad series of events throughout the day. The point here being, I had one of the worst outbursts I have had in a long time.

It began with the morning. I had got to bed late, and woke earlier than I really wanted to; rising just in time, really, to get everyone dressed and ready and get my husband to his therapy session. He does need to be driven to these sessions, since he isn’t supposed to be walking long distances from the car to the clinic, etc. Our child is on spring break, so I had an extra body to chivvy out the door.

But that was not so bad; I didn’t eat breakfast (having intended to eat the last doughnut, and finding that someone else had beat me there), but other than that minor irritation things were fine. However, when we were leaving, the first really bad event occurred.

I was driving; the morning sun was extremely bright to my tired eyes, and slanted in at just the right angle to twang me on the left side of my face. So, I was squinting, trying to reduce the glare and mild discomfort. Suddenly, my RIGHT eye begins to water profusely, stinging and burning in an all too familiar spasm of pain. Something had irritated the eyelid again, and my eye was desperately trying to flush it away, with no luck. I’m in the middle of making a turn; for a heart stopping second I am completely blinded – sun dazzle in the left eye and water blur in the right. We didn’t crash, and I’m pleased to say that I even managed to drive to the closest parking lot without mishap.

There, as I waited out the spasm in my right eye, I began to shiver and shake. Natural enough reaction to nearly crashing, natural enough reaction to the aftereffects of adrenalin rush. Not so natural was the hysterics that kept trying to batter their way through to the surface. I felt nauseated and numb, at the same time, and for a long time I just sat there, saying nothing, just trying to breathe and get myself back into some semblance of working order. Steve offered to drive; I refused. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was that I felt unable to get out of the car right then. Maybe it was sheer stubborn stupidity or even some sense of machismo, that I had to appear tough and reliant and not give in to a little pain in my eye.

We got home. I felt like a turd that had been left out in the sun to dry. My husband and child went off to do other things. I listed to my computer, and began to set up some music and perhaps a little reading.

I was interrupted by the drama queen, and deciding that I didn’t have the energy to deal with that shit, I shut my computer down entirely and went to bed.

I lay there, dozing, nearly unable to move for sheer lassitude, for about three or four hours. I’m not entirely sure when I fully woke up. But when I did, I went back out to the computer room area. No one bothered me for a time; I finished reading the book I’d started Sunday night. I stood, I stretched, I reflected that the book was a good read if a little cynical. I wiped at my right eye with a tissue, for it had been slowly, steadily watering off and on for an hour while I read. It didn’t hurt, it just kept weeping.

Then, without warning, without any noticeable trigger, I began to cry. I do not know what thoughts went through my mind. I do not feel that thoughts were really a part of what was going on. My body shook, it shivered, it quaked with barely suppressed sobs.

I decided to go to the bathroom, to use the mirror there and the sink – the mirror to inspect my watering eye, and the sink for the cold water, which when run over my wrists has been an effective way to calm me and bring me more into focus.

The eye was fine, the lid perhaps a trifle swollen. The cold water on my hands and wrists did nothing this time. By main force of will I jammed my feelings back, crammed them behind any barrier I could erect, and just managed to construct a fragile facade of distracted maundering to cover my unsteady state of mind.

Then my husband came into the bathroom and hugged me, just showing affection as he does. Without warning I burst into tears.

He knows me; he didn’t ask. He simply stroked my back and my hair and held me lightly, letting me cling to him. I felt warm wetness across my lips, and pulled back, thinking I was snotting on him (I do not, and never have, cried elegantly).

My nose was bleeding.

Blood pressure spike; the capillaries in my nasal passages are so weak they can burst in my sleep. I turned away, huddling over the sink, trying to wash the blood off my face and get the bleeding to stop. My sobs sounded like harsh, ragged breathing as they echoed off the sink’s curvature.

My husband silently left me to deal with myself. I was grateful; I needed to be alone, to concentrate on holding the pieces of me together.

All in all it took a twenty minute shower and ten minutes of thousand-yard-stare before I could speak. I still don’t know what hit me, what broke my defenses, what shattered me so badly. For twenty minutes I was fourteen again, full of rage and hurt and shame and fear. Sure that no one could ever know what pain I knew; positive that they would mock me for complaining of pain that surely everyone suffers. Ashamed that I was not stronger, to hold up under this pain without a word, as I imagined my mother must do. And terrified that if I told anyone how I really felt, that I would suffer more because of it.

Suffer because the well meaning and idiotic government would steal me away from those I loved. Afraid that a professional would click her tongue and tell me it was all in my head, and that all I really needed was to learn to let go. Afraid to talk to my friends, for fear of what seeing my pain might do to them. How could they face what I was, what I had become, and not feel differently towards me? How could they not hate me, or pity me – neither of which I wanted. Even worse, what effect might my own scars have on them? My pain hurt me so much; how could it not hurt someone else to witness my scars and imagine my battles, lost or won?

Slowly I began to wind down; the self-whispered words, the self talk that lets me empty out my overwhelming emotions and leave myself at least a little purged, slowed. My heart rate slowed, evened out, steadied. My nose stopped bleeding, my throat stopped clenching. I was able to stop hugging my arms around myself and actually get clean.

I stepped out of the shower, cleansed, calmed, but not better.

Two pills this time. Two pills, which are supposed to only be one pill, and only for emergencies.

The “emergencies” – the attacks – I am not sure if they are more common or not. The pills don’t make it go away. They smooth it out, make it possible for me to think and talk about them as if they happened to someone I know, and not to me.

But they don’t take away the feelings. They soothe me, they lull me, they make me sleepy and docile. Easy to trank the already tranked psycho, right?

I’m not insane. I’m not dangerous, to myself or anyone else.

But I am broken, and it is all I can do to keep the splints maintained and keep using the crutches. I don’t know how to fix myself, and I don’t trust anyone to help me to do it. I don’t think my friends will want to help. Those that would want to help, don’t know any more than I do about what to do. I love them, but I know they can’t do very much for me, without doing harm to themselves, and that I won’t accept.

I’ve hurt enough people with my problems. I’ve bludgeoned people with my back-story, I’ve flayed their consciences with my sordid, pitiful, shameful past.

I don’t want to hurt. And I don’t want others to hurt for me. I want to be done with pain.

Why is that so much to ask of the universe?

And at last, rain

I live inMississippi, as I’ve said before: a place where humidity and heat are pretty much the rule as far as weather. We got no snow this winter, and as far as most of the plants and animals are concerned, spring began three weeks ago.

It began to rain yesterday, sort of an on-and-off drizzle which was mostly just annoying. After dark the REAL storm started. We’ve had weeks of mild to warm days. This rain had to have been ice not too long before it hit the ground.

Now the temp outside has gone from a projected high of 76 (F) to 62 (F). It’s actually chilly enough to bother with socks and slippers for the first time since New Year’s.

The dog is miserable, the cats are irritated, and my son is complaining that he’s bores since he can’t go out in the yard and play at “ninja sword master.” I’m sure that at least one of my friends is not terribly pleased with this cold, wet weather.

I am so pleased with the cold weather that I’m practically purring. The wet, maybe not as much – I hate getting rained on – but since I don’t have to go outside, all that matters is the cold, and I’m so glad it’s cold!


It’s true.

I think I’ve become addicted to commenting on the web comic Guilded Age.

I post WAY TOO MUCH. But it’s so fun!

If you’ve never read this comic, this is a fine time to start from the top. At the time of this writing there are eight chapters or so, at 25-30 pages each. Not that much of an archive, when compared to say QC or (gods help us) Penny Arcade. Or Order of the Stick, yeesh.

But it’s a very entertaining read,  I must say, especially if you like D&D style fantasy, MMOs, and any blend of the two. Plus hijinx.

Frankly the comments are as much fun as the comics, too. Which is why I’m checking the site every…day. Several times a day.

Wonder if there’s a support group for this.


I have had a bad day.

My husband has been barking at me all day, when he isn’t asleep or whining about how sick he feels. My son has been full of smartass remarks, or retarded ones. I don’t even want to talk about the other two. One’s just being the usual moronic fun fest….the other one ate three fucking servings worth of dinner and wonders why we all think he’s a goddam hippopotamus.

My blood pressure must be high. I can’t imagine why else I’m feeling partly shocky and partly like I’m about to burst into tears. Or flames. Or both.

All I really want to do is chug down a couple liters of Coke, possibly laced with rum, pig out on chocolate and fatty snack foods, and generally debauch myself and pretend I’m still nineteen. I hate being 34, I hate being married, I hate being a mother and a housekeeper and I hate my fucking life.

It’s too much trouble to kill myself though.

God why am I so pitiful? Even I am sick of listening to me.

Spouting off

Well. Day three of oil pulling. I feel very lethargic and generally sick in the mornings, though if I can stay awake the feeling passes in about two hours. I’m sleeping very hard once I finally fall asleep, but it’s like the evening session of oil pulling wakes me up again. The morning one doesn’t seem to pep me up, though.

I know part of what is causing me to feel yucky right now is that my body is beginning to detoxify. It’s dragging the nastiness up out of my cells and expelling it all. Not to get too graphic, but I’ve had to strengthen the deodorants in the bathroom…let’s just leave it at that. I’ve noticed that I can smell things, now. I didn’t think I was suffering from blocked nasal passages – felt like I could breathe fine or so I thought – but I can now smell the cat box, when before I frankly couldn’t smell a thing in that area unless the cat had just been using the thing. Fortunately this means I can also smell more pleasant things too.

I feel really tired though, and have a mild but persistent headache all the time. It’s kind of like I have low grade fever, though when I checked, the thermometer insisted I was running at 96 degrees F (my usual base line temp is 96.8 instead of 98.6). I’m tempted to go get a new thermometer, I’m suspicious!

But my gum line looks better, and my husband claimed last night that the black tartar on my front teeth looks as if it has lessened already. I can’t say, it doesn’t look different to me…but he was definitely impressed by what he perceived as improvement. He also doesn’t at all mind my having “coconut breath” come bedtime!

27 more days until I have more conclusive information. But so far, even with the slight feeling bad, so good.

Coconut mouth

Got the coconut oil today – thank you Amanda  – and tried my first “dose” of oil. I chose to put the opened container in the fridge, because this stuff melts at 76 degrees Fahrenheit, and I’m pretty sure I saw it beginning to soften up in the kitchen as it was. Our house, it does not stay all that cold…even when it’s COLD. Sheesh. Anyway, to prevent possible rancidity, into the fridge it goes and stays.

Got out one spoonful – probably 2 1/2 teaspoons, I dunno, a soup spoon full at any rate. I sorta had to chew it at first while the heat of my mouth melted it…since it melts at such a low temp I knew that it would get liquid quite fast. In about 20 seconds I think…

I think I’ll use a smaller spoon next time. I had real trouble keeping it in my mouth after five minutes! I just felt like my mouth was full to bursting and I kept having to fight back the reflex to swallow, which you aren’t supposed to do.

My mouth feels like I ate a Mounds candy bar, but without the pain of sugar acids on my gums…yet with the strangely satisfying flavor of the coconut which has always been my favorite part of those candies anyway. I really, really like this stuff!! I can’t imagine putting it on popcorn or really any food – perhaps I could see using it in place of butter in some kind of dessert item, but on savory foods the flavor still seems odd to me.

Now we see how I feel tomorrow I guess. But so far, a positive start. I feel hopeful that this therapy will work out for me. I’m aware that my mouth pain may get worse before it gets better. More news as it comes along.


Day two, as it were (just editing this post, it’s marginally easier)

Didn’t sleep well last night, not sure why. Possibly the pepperoni sandwich I had for dinner. Lots of heartburn at any rate. Managed to drag myself out of bed, though. I did my oil pulling last night, and began working on my recipe folder to keep myself busy while swishing. They say you’re supposed to focus on the swishing, but honestly I feel like I do it longer when I’m not paying attention – when I am focusing on it, it’s as if my mouth gets full faster and I end up stopping before ten minutes is up.

Recipe book got somewhat sorted, and I went on to bed. This morning, back to the book while doing the morning pulling. Managed twenty full minutes, with a teaspoon of oil. I’m finding, too, that what seems to work best is setting the oil on the window sill that separates the kitchen from the garage. I don’t know whether that will continue to be a good idea come summer, when the kitchen will be hot much of the day. We will see.

Examined my mouth after this morning’s pulling, and the gums look less angry-red and swollen. In the back, where the tartar is least advanced, my gums look a healthy pink rather than the sullen red they’d begun to turn. The front teeth area is still quite nasty looking, of course, but that’s to be expected. I’ve got twenty years worth of gunk and damage there. Not going to go away overnight.


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