Tricksy Husbandses...

     Most people, as they grow older, find their birthdays to be just another depressing marking of time.  Not me. I've turned the observation of my birthday into an art, carefully and craftily squeezing out celebratory fun from every possible day during the month of September. So of course, any mention of cake, special dinner, or presents will grab my attention.

      Jeremy said to me, "I know what you're getting for your birthday."

     "My birthday!?" I perked up at the thought.

     "Yeeeuupp." He said, looking rather pleased with himself.  In fact, he looked so smug, I became suspicious.

     "Hey, wait!" I exclaimed. After fifteen years of marriage, I can almost read his mind sometimes.   "You're thinking about the free version of LOTRO, aren't you!" I said accusingly.

     Jeremy started laughing. "It comes out exactly on your birthday. I know you're just so thrilled. Happy Birthday, Love."

     "Only if you have a death wish," I said.

Piggies, Spiders, and Wolves, OH MY!

     When I was a little girl, Pac-man sat at the front of our grocery store, taunting my sister and I while we waited for my mother to check out.  Every week, we had the same mantra, "Please Mama, Please. Please Mama Please" while we begged for a quarter each to play the big video arcade game.  To which, most of the time, Mom would say, "No. I'm not wasting a quarter on you. You guys never finish the game." 

     We'd reply, "Yes we will. This time we will. We really really really will!"

     And for some reason, once in awhile, this would work.

      Taking our much prized quarters over to the machine, we'd slide one into the slot, listen to the Pac Man jingle, and begin moving our little yellow wheel of cheese around chomping down on dots. The Wheel of Cheese's enthusiasm for Pac Man Kibble, never boring, even for 40 levels, enslaved many just by the jingle alone.  If only Sara and I could get past level one.  The problem wasn't our inability to move Pac Man through the maze. Our problem was those stupid multi-colored cartoon cousin-it's named  Inky, Pinky, Blinkie, and Clyde.  They had a vendetta against Pac-Man and in their quest to destroy him and protect the kibble, the so-called 'ghosts' came after the yellow cheese with a vengence.

     It was intolerable.

     One moment we were happily moving the joystick, helping Pac Man munch down kibbles and bits, and the next we were shrieking loud enough to wake the dead.

     "AHHHH AHHHH! AHHHH! AHHHH! I CAN'T TAKE IT! I CAN'T TAKE IT! YOU PLAY!"

     "I'M NOT PLAYING! YOU PLAY!"

     "YOU PLAY!"

     "NO! YOU PLAY!"

      "Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwuuuuuuup!" said the machine as Pac Man shriveled up.

      Sara and I would stand there looking at each other, shrug our shoulders and stick the next quarter back into the slot.

     Gee. Such great fun.

     I'm sure our mother was pretending we were orphans at that point.

      So why Jeremy thought I would not only enjoy Lord of the Rings Online, but secretly hoped I'd become just as addicted as him, is beyond me.  It's not as if I haven't told him the Pac Man story.  Over and over and over again.

      I fired up the game, logged into Nimrodel Hey I remembered the name! Go me! Gotta rejoice in the small victories. And entered the little village where I had last left off.  Shammel stood there for a few minutes, when Jeremy finally said to me, "Find 'Fred*' and finish out that last quest." *names have been changed to protect the ignorant*

      Wow. That's like magic. He even remembers what I did last. I don't remember what I did last.  My amazement must have shown on my face, because Jeremy pointed to the screen and said, "That's your quest log.  It shows what open quests you have."  Leaning real close to the screen, I started looking all over the screen looking for some 'log' as if pressing my nose to the monitor was going to help. "No here," he said, pointing again.  I still had no clue what he was talking about, but just nodded and went to find 'Fred"

     Instead of Fred being grateful, the jerk, he gave me more assignments.  "Go Kill Wolves" he said. What choice did I have? I went and killed wolves.  Thank goodness they stood still for me while I picked them off with my bow.  Well, all except one who took exception to my weapon, and charged me. I shrieked and frantically clicked my mouse, shooting the snot out of that wolf.  He'll think twice before crossing me anytime soon. Right clicking on all my kills, I "looted" each wolf (see I'm learning the terminology...sort-of) for items I'm sure I'll never know what I'm supposed to do with it.

     "Um, clicking rapidly won't help you," Jeremy said.

     I glared at him. "But it makes me feel better." I said.

     I went back to the village to "turn in my quest" only to find out I had to speak to "George." And so began the song and dance of talking to this person, who in turn told me to talk to that person. And the more I talked to village folk, the more assignments, er, uh, quests, I was given.  "Here," Jeremy said. "You can pick up this one, and that one and the other..."  Oh man. Please just let me do one at a time!  I silently begged, to no avail.  I wasn't sure I could keep track of all the quests I had loading up in my queue.  Oh wait, that's right I have an invisible quest log that will keep track of all of these things for me!

     "How in the heck am I supposed to find this kingscrap stuff?"

     "Kingsfoil?"

     "Yeah that."

     "It glows."

     "Yes, but WHERE do I find it?"

     "Outside the village."

     "You mean, I have to wander around out there looking for glowing plants?"

     "Here, let me show you something. Here's the Map."

      Using great restraint, I refrained from breaking out into Dora the Explorer's "I'm the Map" song.

     "See, you're right here," Jeremy continued, "And the kingfoil is somewhere in here." He pointed to a very wide empty looking space in the center of the map.

     "Uh, That's not going to help. I have no idea how to read maps in real-life. And you want me to do this virtually?"

      "You're here," Jeremy tried again. "You have to travel down this road and into this field."

     "No virtual Tom-Tom?" I asked.

      Jeremy just looked at me, as if I was actually trying to be antagonizing.  I wasn't, mostly.  I really felt a big zippo blank-o in my brain looking at the map.  He sighed, closed out the map, and said, "Go that way."

I maneuvered Shammel back out of the village, ran past the wolf killing scene, and wandered aimlessly for at least five minutes. Hey this isn't bad. Maybe I can waste my forty minutes 'looking' for kingsfoil.

      Sensing a mutiny, Jeremy steered my character in the right direction and said, "Look. Kingsfoil."

I marched Shammel up to the plant, and said, "Do I right click on it like I did to loot the wolves?"

     "Yup." Jeremy said.

     "You're too far away," LOTRO said.

      So I inched closer, and right clicked.

     "Still too far away."

     So I stood in the middle of the plant.

     "You must face your collectable," LOTRO said.

     I danced around the kingsfoil plant right clicking until finally it allowed me to collect some of its precious leaves.

     Finally, having collected enough, I returned the village, turned in my quest, received some threadbare clothing for my labor. And of course, turning in a quest seems to lead to gaining a new task.  Now I had to go talk to yet another dude, I'll call "Henry."

     "You've leveled up," Jeremy said. "You should go see your trainer."

     "Huh? Trainer?"

     "Yeah, you probably have some new skill that will help you."

     "Uh, ooohhkaaay. How do I find my trainer?"

     "Go over here."

     "Now what do I do?"

     "Right click."

     "Now what?"

     "Click, 'train'"

     "Ok, now what?"

     "Close it out. You've just gained your 'power stance." Jeremy said enthusiastically.

     "That's it? That's how I train? I just click on the dude? I don't have to actually 'train'? And what is a power stance?" I asked.

     "Yup, that's it. That's all you do. A power stance can be activated each time you log in, and it makes your weapons more powerful, or your close stance fighting inflict more damage."

     "And inflicting more damage is a good thing." I added dubiously.

     "NOW," Jeremy said with emphasis, "Let's go find Henry."

     I looked up at my compassy thingy at the upper right hand corner of the screen and didn't see an arrow pointing me in the general direction of Henry.  "Hey," I said to Jeremy. "There's no compassy thingy. How do I find Henry?"

      "Well," he said, "Let's look at the map." 

     Like that helped so much the last time.

     "Ah," He continued oblivious to my thoughts, "See, he's in the hunting lodge which is waaaaay over here.  You'll have to run down this road and cross the bridge to get to the hunting lodge."

      "In the meantime, since I'm leaving the village again, can I kill the pigs and collect the berries from the other two quests?"

      "Sure. That's a good idea," he praised.  "Now let's set the quest tracker to Henry. Right click on this ring."

      "This ring?" OOOOOHHHHH! There's my quest log. Right there on the right. Just exactly where he'd been pointing. How dare they just put text right on the screen without a nifty box around the words! Everything else has a nifty box around it.

      "Yup." He said.

      "Oh hey look. I have an arrow again in my compassy thingy!" I exclaimed.

     I set out down the road and, of course, didn't encounter one piggy. 

     "Boar." Jeremy corrected.

    "Whatever," I said.  "It figured, when I was hunting wolves, I saw tons of piggies. Now that I'm hunting piggies, I only see wolves."

     "Boar," Jeremy said. "And look, there's one."

     I discovered one thing: piggies are way more aggressive than wolves.  I let out a high pitched squeal as the pig charged at me and put my cursor on the bottom icons. Fighting the urge to shut my eyes, I clicked on every bow and arrow icon I had at the bottom center of the screen.  The pig keeled over, and I made Shammel loot his poor little piggy hide.

      "Boar," Jeremy said.

     "Whatever."

      "Now, aren't you glad you have the power stance? Doesnt that make killing boars better?"

     "I don't know if I can tell the difference," I said, not really trying to be difficult.

     Jeremy rolled his eyes.

     I wandered along the path, collecting berries, and killing piggies, yelping every time Shammel was charged at.

     "Boar," Jeremy said.

     "Whatever."

     Finally, finally, finally, I came to the hunting lodge.

     I waltzed Shammel up the steps, and in front of the door (so I thought) and right clicked to open it.  Much to my dismay, the door opened and passed through my character as if he were a specter, cutting Shammel in half.  I tried to move him right. He didn't budge. I tried to move him left. Still nothing.  I almost cussed. "Jeremy, get my character out of the door!" I demanded, "I almost cussed! I never cuss! I have to be really mad to cuss! Save me from cussing! I hate arrow-key games!"  Recognizing I was thiiiiiis close to earning a free leather jacket complete with straps and buckles, Jeremy said nothing. He leaned over, right clicked on the door, shut it, moved Shammel over a few taps of the right arrow, right clicked on the door and opened it again.  I was still too angry to feel foolish over my childish behavior.  By this point, I was fed up with the game and it's randomness, and a minor temper tantrum was just what I needed to make it through the last of my forty minutes.

     Of course, Henry wanted something from me too, these greedy bast...er uh, um...yeah, these greedy folks, that's what I meant to say. If these greedy folk like Henry did more than just stand there nodding their heads and repositioning themselves every 30 seconds, they could take care of these problems themselves instead of depending on poor hapless Hunters, like my character.  I took my leave, and wandered lost around the tiny three room hunting lodge. Yes, lost. As in, I. could. not. find. the. door. Go ahead, and laugh.  Jeremy wisely did not, however. 

     Once Shammel was outside the lodge, Jeremy said, "I know a short-cut back to the village."

     "Great. I'm gonna turn in the piggy quest"

     "Boar."

    "Whatever. And the berry quest. And then I'm done. D.O.N.E. done."

    "Now, you're going to go down this path, and there will be spiders, but since this is the intro/training area, these ones won't attack you."

     I guess I didn't hear the word 'spiders' or maybe I didn't process it. I was just anxious to finish my time quota, and go back to my happy place. My stress and frustration levels had been steadily climbing since the moment I had logged in and felt blank inside my brain.  I started Shammel down the path and encountered the first ginormous spider. Sure, it wasn't attacking me, but I sure as heck did not want to run into it, through it, or whatever. So I steered around the spider, only to nearly encounter a web.  And then another web. And a web with some kind of prey wrapped up into it...and more spiders. Every where I looked! SPIDERS! AND MORE SPIDERS! AND MORE WEBS AND MORE SPIDERS!!!!  AND WEBS AND...AND ...AND...."AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

     I jumped out of my chair and ran down the stairs as if the devil were after my soul. 

    "Melanie?" Jeremy called down the steps uncertain as to where I went.

     "I'm here," I said, my voice muffled by the pillow I was holding over my face.

     "Are you coming back?"

     "I just can't take the spiders. I don't care if they're not real. I can't take the spiders. Just get me back to the village, OK? Call me when you're back at the village, so I can turn in my quests and be done."

     "Ok."

     "Are you back to the village yet?"

    "Yes. you can come back now."

    I turned in my last two quests of the night. And slumped with relief.

   "I really don't think this is the game for you," Jeremy said, in all honesty.

    "Noooo, really?" I said sarcastically. "Whatever gave you that idea?'

    He laughed. "You're really going to hate level 20."

    "Spiders?" I asked weakly.

    "Spiders." He said. "And they don't just stand there passively, either."

     Great. Cant. Wait.

Busted!

    The ultimatum seemed like a good idea at the time. Oh sure, the blog languished, and I didn't have any fodder to write about, but I also didn't have to play Lord of the Rings Online. As long as the crochet hook wasn't working any loops into any scarf, I didn't have to think about Nimrodel, or Peg Buckwheat, or anything remotely relating to a quest.  Well, I exaggerate, a bit. My menfolk are always talking about Lord of the Rings. But as long as the scarf wasn't growing, I had license to tune them out.  

     Last night I was in my happy space, tapping away at the laptop's keyboard, when our daughter, Ruth chirped, "What are you doing, Daddy? Are you going to crochet?"  My ears perked up at the last question, and I looked over the laptop screen to see Jeremy wandering around yarn in hand.  He opened my silver needle box and started rummaging.

     "The gold hook, right?"

     "Yes," I said, warily. "Planning to crochet a few more rows?"

     "Yup. You know, you could quest on the laptop while I sit here and crochet."

     "That's ok. You get your ten rows, and then I'll show you how to double crochet, and then I'll quest. Maybe tomorrow."

     We sat in companionable silence, Jeremy asking me a question here and there while I surfed.  After a bit, he said, "Ok, show me double crochet."

     "Give me the scarf."

     "No!" Holding the scarf out of reach, he added, "You can just tell me."

     I'm more of a demonstrating kind of instructor, but I decided if he was going to sit there looking like a toddler playing keep-away with his favorite toy, I'd just have to see if I could talk him through the steps.  I let out a big sigh and said, "Chain three. This is your first stitch. Unlike single crochet, where the chain one helps you turn your work.  Now, you'll skip the first stitch of the last row, because you've made this chain 3."

     "Got it."

      I continued to walk him through the double crochet, secretly impressed at how much faster Jeremy was picking it up this time.  He wasn't all thumbs, and after a bit, he even had a rhythm going.  Assured Jeremy was doing well enough on his own, I turned back to the laptop and continued reading wikipedia, the site my latest meanderings had led me.

     "Ok, that's it. I'm done that row. It's your turn."

     "No, you have to do another row of double crochet," I said glancing at him.
     "No, wait. That's not what you said last time. You're changing the rules," Jeremy protested.

     "I am not."

     "Are too."

      "Not."

      "Too," He said with extra emphasis.  "Last time you said, 'Ten rows, and a row of double crochet' before you'd play LOTRO again.  So I finished my ten rows of single crochet, and now I've completed a row of double crochet, so I'm done for tonight."

     "You have to at least do one more row of double. The last stitch can be tricky because you're putting your hook through the chain three of the previous row," I argued, hoping to buy more time.  Dang, this man is getting faster and better at this crochet stuff. A row doesn't buy me as much time as it used to. 

     "Ok," He said, "That makes sense. But I still say you're cheating and changing the rules." Again, we both became silent as he continued to crochet, the tap tap tapping of my fingers running rapidly across the keyboard being the only sound.  

     Jeremy broke the silence. "I crocheted for 40 minutes. Now you owe me 40 minutes of LOTRO," he announced.

     "That was NOT 40 minutes of crochet."

     "Was too."

     "Was not."

     "Was too."

     "Was not."

     "Was too. I came down here at eight o'clock and started crocheting. It's now eight-forty.  That's forty minutes of LOTRO you owe me."

      "No, you started looking for your hook at eight o'clock. You did not sit down and start at eight o'clock," I said, desperation lacing my voice. If I could bargain away five minutes, even ten, I would have rejoiced.  Jeremy just looked at me like a recalcitrant child. I stared back, making my eyes wider, pleading.  I smiled weakly. After all, this expression sometimes worked for our girls. "Not forty minutes," I said weakly, pleadingly. "How about thirty minutes? Or even twenty minutes?"

     "Forty minutes," He said decisively. "And if you do it now, you can get it over with."

     Puffing out my breath, I said, "Ok. Fine. But you know, you could bring that with you and get a few more rows completed while I quest" I pushed up from the kitchen table, scooting my chair back, and stood up.  Jeremy stood at the same time, and we started walking towards the stairs.

      We were half-way across the living room when someone knocked on the door.   Without thinking about what was in his hands, Jeremy answered the door. Much to his chagrin, our friend and his daughter were standing on our front porch.  Now, it's one thing to announce to the world wide web my husband has taken up crochet.  It's another thing for said husband to have a fellow male member of the species catch him in the actual act.  About a thousand expressions blinked across Jeremy's face in the span of a nanosecond, ranging from horror to mild embarrassment to resignation. 

 

     "Oh man," Jeremy said looking down at the yarn in his hand, "You caught me." His expression sheepish, he held up his scarf. "As you can see, I'm crocheting."

     Our friend raised his eyebrows and said, "I see."

      I asked the friend, "Didn't your wife tell you about our challenge?"

      "Uh, no." He said.

      "You see," I continued, pointing at Jeremy, "He wanted me to play his stupid computer game. And I said, ''Ok, fine. I'll play your stupid computer game if you earn to crochet' not thinking he'd actually do it. I really thought that would deter him from pestering me into playing. Obviously I was wrong."

      "Obviously," our friend said. After a brief awkward moment, he said, "I hope you didn't tell my wife about this."

     "Oh she already knew about it. I'm surprised she didn't show you the blog," I replied.

     "Good. Then she's smart enough not to get any ideas," He said. And then as if in an afterthought, maybe in attempt to make Jeremy feel better, "Though I did spin wool once."

     "You did, huh?" I said.

     "Yup. I spun lumpy bumpy wool once, to make her happy. Beginners Yarn."

      Jeremy nodded in acknowledgment of the 'to make her happy' part of that statement.

      "And hey," our friend continued. "It's good to take interest in each other's hobbies and such."

     "If you could call it that," I said.

     "Yeah, well. Hey. It is what it is." And with that profound statement, our friend called his daughter who was running around with Ruth.  "I was just dropping off these for the wife." He said, handing me a couple of bags. "It was good seeing you. Good luck with. that." He pointed to Jeremy's crochet. "Maybe if you're lucky, Melanie, you'll get a scarf for a Christmas present."

     We waved good-bye, and walked into the house.  Setting the yarn down, Jeremy looked at me with bright, wide, revenge seeking, eyes.  "Well," he said clapping his hands together and rubbing them. "Now you really have to quest tonight."

     "Forty minutes?" I said as I climbed up the stairs.

     "Yup. Forty minutes." He said, mercilessly.

     I can only be glad he didn't add a humiliation penalty into the playing time equation.

(stay tuned for the next post: Piggies, Spiders, and Wolves, OH MY!)

At this rate, we'll be 90 before we finish this challenge

      "I refuse to go on another quest until I see more progress on that scarf," I said after Jeremy pushed at me to play his game again.

      "Oh com'mon," He said. "They don't take so long."

      "Yeah, yeah, I know how this will work. I'll get to level 20, and you'll still have three rows of crochet," I replied.

      "So?" he laughed. "I don't see what's wrong with that! Besides you need to keep blogging, don't you? You'd be able to blog about your latest quest."

      "Ha! Right. As if. I'm not falling for that line of illogical reasoning. So, our ten loyal readers will just have to wait for the next entry. I'm not letting you use them as an excuse to make me play the game when you're not even keeping up YOUR end of the bargain."

      I let that hang in the air for a little bit, turned on the television and sat down to spin.  About fifteen minutes later, Jeremy sauntered through the livingroom, casually picked up his crochet and sat back down.

      "Hey, where's my hook? I can't find my hook."

     I just raised my eyebrows at him. Yeah, I see where this is going, so sad, I don't know where my hook is, I can't crochet. Oh well I tried. Uh-huh. I know you soooo well, mister.  "I put it in my case over there with my knitting needles.

      The expression on Jeremy's face was priceless. It was an Oh crap I've been found out! kind of face.  He opened up my silver case, and took out his hook. Looked at his work, turned it upside down, backwards, forwards, and then looked at me, his eyes saying "help me." 

     "See," I couldn't help gloating a bit, "You've forgotten already. That's what happens when you don't keep at it."  I took his hook, and stuck it into the loop. "Chain one and turn," I said.

     "Oh yeah!" He said.

     Normally I'd have suspected the 'helpless' routine, but Jeremy absolutely refused to let me touch his crochet.  Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty sure as the youngest in his family, he  not only knows the secret handshake to enter the 'baby of the family' clubhouse, but also all the tricks: "How to make my older brother/sister do all the work/chores," "How to look helpless and make others do stuff for you", and "How to get out of trouble just with a smile."  Jeremy may even have written a few of the handbooks for the future generations. Our youngest Hannah certainly has read "Weird Works Well, a brief guide on distracting your parents/siblings/teachers."  So, when Jer wouldn't let me 'show' him how to crochet again, I was pretty sure he wasn't trying to play me. He really did forget.

     "Now put the hook into that first stitch. No, remember how you have to hold the hook." He wrapped the yarn around his finger a few times and tried to get it started. Dropping the piece a few times, he finally successfully stuck the hook into the first stitch and drew a loop through. Then he fought with the yarn some more as he tried to pull it through both loops on his hook.  After a few stitches like this, however, he finally found a rhythm.

     Once he successfully completed three rows, he said, "Wow. This is going to take a long time at this rate." 

      "Yeah, that's why I'm going to show you double crochet after you get ten rows.  And once you get ten rows, I'll do some more quests. So, are you going to crochet some more?"

     "No. I think that'll do it for now."  And he set his six rows of crochet to the side.

That was about a week and a half ago.  And I still haven't done another quest.  

Just six rows, sitting there sad, lonely, and forgotten...