Catch-up 02/12/07 - Punks, Lovecraft Country, Demolition, Sebastian, Top Secret Scooby

This is a vain attempt to catch up on a bunch of posts that I would have made by voice post if the damned thing had been working for the last month or two.

Punks
I use the Ruggles train station in Boston every day. It's basically the Northeastern University train stop on the Orange line. It's on the edge of the campus, but the neighborhood is not the greatest; there have been a number of shootings at the station, and a lot of screeching teens hang out there.

There's an up escalator. When I get to the station in the afternoon, it's stopped nineteen times out of twenty. Last week I discovered why.

I was about to go up the stairs, the same stairs where I once passed former Democratic Presidential nominee and Massachusetts governor Michael Dukakis. The escalator was moving, for once, and packed with screaming teens - not, I should note, college students. As I went by, I saw a boy dressed in high ghetto fashion flip open the cover on the emergency stop button and press it. The escalator instantly came to a stop, giving a good jerk to everyone on it. The girls screeched and screamed like animals. I think they liked it.

Personally, I'm glad I wasn't on the escalator, because my back was giving me hell that day and I would have wanted to kill that boy.

Lovecraft Country

I live in Lovecraft country. It's not just that Lovecraft was a Rhode Islander, and is buried in Providence; no, I live among shuggoths. We've now had ten arrests at the local public schools. And today, there was a truly disgusting story in the news about a Woonsocket couple who apparently felt that the best way to teach their 9-year-old daughter about sex was to put on a live demonstration for her - not just once, but many times.

And when I was outside playing with Sebastian, I suddenly realized that in the less than five years we've lived in our house, we've actually had two desperate criminals on the run pass through or hide in our back hard - that we know of.

I want to move.

Demolition

In passing, I should note that a number of places have been demolished in my area lately. One of them was the Roast House, a restaurant on route 146 in North Smithfield RI. It had a big red and white striped awning, and was actually quite a nice place.

Teri and I went there early in our relationship. They had the best Belgium waffles I'd ever had, and it was there that I first tried corned beef hash. Of course I later got serious food poisoning from hash, but that was at Coffee & Cream.

Their lunches and dinners were pretty good, too. To be honest, though, we didn't go there very often. They had a bar on the opposite side of the entrance from the dining area, but their ventilation system was inadequate and we'd feel smoked to death every time we ate there. I think they eventually stopped the smoking at the bar, but by that time our habits had developed and we just didn't go there.

I took Sebastian there once for breakfast last year, and he liked it a lot. We went back there a couple more times, but they were closed for breakfast both times; that seemed strange. And last week when we drove by Teri pointed to where it had been. It was completely gone; just bare ground there now.

Also demolished in downtown Woonsocket was a row of old stores that included a very strange old Italian restaurant. It was one of those places that smells and feels old - when you stepped through the door, you stepped through Time as well, and ended up back in the 1950s. I think I may have done an entry about it, years ago, but since the LJ search feature isn't available yet I can't dig it up right now.

Anyway, now there's nothing but a huge pile of rubble where those stores were. Supposedly nicer stores will be built, but I'm cynical about such things; they'll probably be modernistic monstrosities, occupied by soulless chain stores. At heart, I'm a conservative; rather than destroy old buildings, I'd like to see them beautifully and meticulously restored and (if necessary) repurposed.

Sebastian

He's growing so fast. It's almost shocking to see how grow-up he is. Other people have been commenting on it, too. I got off at the Franklin train station last week, and Teri and Sebastian were late; as I stood there, a woman in her late forties caught my eye and said "Your son is adorable. How old is he now?"

"Five", I answered, and we actually chatted about him for a little while in the bitter cold. She told me to enjoy my time with him, and you can bet that I do. Then she went to her car. Eventually Teri and Sebastian came for me.

Mind you, this woman had definitely not seen Sebastian any time in the past several days; for various reasons he hadn't been at the station for pick-up for that time.

Top Secret Scooby

You want to know how weird I am? A few nights ago, after Teri and Sebastian were asleep, I found myself singing the Plastics "Top Secret Man" in a Scooby Doo voice.

"Rooo, rooo,
Eryrury rows
Rooo, rooo,
Rop rop rop rop rop rop recret..."

Catch-up 02/12/07 - Punks, Lovecraft Country, Demolition, Sebastian, Top Secret Scooby

This is a vain attempt to catch up on a bunch of posts that I would have made by voice post if the damned thing had been working for the last month or two.

Punks
I use the Ruggles train station in Boston every day. It's basically the Northeastern University train stop on the Orange line. It's on the edge of the campus, but the neighborhood is not the greatest; there have been a number of shootings at the station, and a lot of screeching teens hang out there.

There's an up escalator. When I get to the station in the afternoon, it's stopped nineteen times out of twenty. Last week I discovered why.

I was about to go up the stairs, the same stairs where I once passed former Democratic Presidential nominee and Massachusetts governor Michael Dukakis. The escalator was moving, for once, and packed with screaming teens - not, I should note, college students. As I went by, I saw a boy dressed in high ghetto fashion flip open the cover on the emergency stop button and press it. The escalator instantly came to a stop, giving a good jerk to everyone on it. The girls screeched and screamed like animals. I think they liked it.

Personally, I'm glad I wasn't on the escalator, because my back was giving me hell that day and I would have wanted to kill that boy.

Lovecraft Country

I live in Lovecraft country. It's not just that Lovecraft was a Rhode Islander, and is buried in Providence; no, I live among shuggoths. We've now had ten arrests at the local public schools. And today, there was a truly disgusting story in the news about a Woonsocket couple who apparently felt that the best way to teach their 9-year-old daughter about sex was to put on a live demonstration for her - not just once, but many times.

And when I was outside playing with Sebastian, I suddenly realized that in the less than five years we've lived in our house, we've actually had two desperate criminals on the run pass through or hide in our back hard - that we know of.

I want to move.

Demolition

In passing, I should note that a number of places have been demolished in my area lately. One of them was the Roast House, a restaurant on route 146 in North Smithfield RI. It had a big red and white striped awning, and was actually quite a nice place.

Teri and I went there early in our relationship. They had the best Belgium waffles I'd ever had, and it was there that I first tried corned beef hash. Of course I later got serious food poisoning from hash, but that was at Coffee & Cream.

Their lunches and dinners were pretty good, too. To be honest, though, we didn't go there very often. They had a bar on the opposite side of the entrance from the dining area, but their ventilation system was inadequate and we'd feel smoked to death every time we ate there. I think they eventually stopped the smoking at the bar, but by that time our habits had developed and we just didn't go there.

I took Sebastian there once for breakfast last year, and he liked it a lot. We went back there a couple more times, but they were closed for breakfast both times; that seemed strange. And last week when we drove by Teri pointed to where it had been. It was completely gone; just bare ground there now.

Also demolished in downtown Woonsocket was a row of old stores that included a very strange old Italian restaurant. It was one of those places that smells and feels old - when you stepped through the door, you stepped through Time as well, and ended up back in the 1950s. I think I may have done an entry about it, years ago, but since the LJ search feature isn't available yet I can't dig it up right now.

Anyway, now there's nothing but a huge pile of rubble where those stores were. Supposedly nicer stores will be built, but I'm cynical about such things; they'll probably be modernistic monstrosities, occupied by soulless chain stores. At heart, I'm a conservative; rather than destroy old buildings, I'd like to see them beautifully and meticulously restored and (if necessary) repurposed.

Sebastian

He's growing so fast. It's almost shocking to see how grow-up he is. Other people have been commenting on it, too. I got off at the Franklin train station last week, and Teri and Sebastian were late; as I stood there, a woman in her late forties caught my eye and said "Your son is adorable. How old is he now?"

"Five", I answered, and we actually chatted about him for a little while in the bitter cold. She told me to enjoy my time with him, and you can bet that I do. Then she went to her car. Eventually Teri and Sebastian came for me.

Mind you, this woman had definitely not seen Sebastian any time in the past several days; for various reasons he hadn't been at the station for pick-up for that time.

Top Secret Scooby

You want to know how weird I am? A few nights ago, after Teri and Sebastian were asleep, I found myself singing the Plastics "Top Secret Man" in a Scooby Doo voice.

"Rooo, rooo,
Eryrury rows
Rooo, rooo,
Rop rop rop rop rop rop recret..."

A Long Night

Sebastian fell asleep in the car last night around 7 PM as we were driving to Wrentham to pick up Teri.

When we got home, we had a hard time waking him up enough to get him out of the car (he's really too big to pick up and carry for long distances these days). He cried and fussed. Once we got him on the porch, he dragged himself over to the couch, took of his shoes, hat, gloves, and coat, and tried to fall asleep. But it was freezing out there - barely warmer than outside, there's no heat except what radiates from the internal wall - so we couldn't allow that.

So with great difficulty we got him into the living room, where he laid down on the sofa again. Teri ended up carrying him up the stairs and into his bed.

She fell asleep soon after.

I stayed up and played some Diablo II: LOD. At around 9:35 I headed for bed. Ten minutes later, I sat bolt upright: I'd heard a cry of distress from Sebastian's room.

He was sitting half-upright, sobbing sleepily. "My tummy hurts!" he cried.

"Do you think you're going to throw up?"

"Maybe..."

I looked around frantically, but couldn't find a trash can. We'd left it in our room the night that he'd thrown up on our bed. So I ran back to our room and grabbed one (incidentally and not entirely unintentionally waking up Teri in the process), and ran back to his room. He drank some water, Teri came in and helped soothe him, and we left him in his bed with the trash can (a new one, quite clean) on the bed next to him.

I went back to bed and fell asleep. Sometime in the night, around 2 AM, Sebastian woke up and came into our bed; later, when I got up to got to the bathroom and came back, he'd stretched out his arm and taken up my space. So I went to his bed to sleep.

That night, I had a dream.

I was in a small bed, in my office. Of course, in the real world I work in a cube, not an office, but in my dream I was in a small bedroom-like office at my workplace. I lay there in bed for a couple of hours, worrying about sleeping at work - it didn't seem right - and then things changed.

There was some sort of odd corporate roleplaying test going on. We were at a rural location; we were all going to be cows. Each of us was given a cow costume to wear. They were designed to let us walk upright, and (since I'm sure you're wondering) they did not have udders. Or at least mine didn't.

We were each handed a piece of paper telling us what type of cow we were. We would be graded on how well we stuck to our roles. I was a "tabula rasa" cow, which meant that I had no memory and was unable to learn or remember anything; it would be a mark against me if I were to accidentally demonstrate learning ability.

This seemed pretty unfair to me, since the other cows were competing to become the leader of the herd; it felt as if I'd been forced into a village idiot category before I'd even had a chance to compete.

But I tried to play the part and make the best of it. Incidentally, in hindsight the whole thing was very much like most of the SIL/ILF-type roleplaying events that I'd experienced, especially the unfair role assignments. Slowly the dream ended and I realized that I was sleeping on Sebastian's bed; I was still asleep, but I had some idea of where I was. I guessed that morning was near.

My back was to the door, but I heard Sebastian's footsteps as he came into the room. He climbed up on the bed behind me, and kissed me on the shoulder. Then he rubbed his face on the top-back of my head, where some men develop a bald spot (and which is, in my case, completely bald); he's never done that before. It felt funny. Finally he climbed part-way over my back and planted a kiss on my temple.

"It's morning! Time to get up, Daddy!"

A long night. But not a bad one.

A Long Night

Sebastian fell asleep in the car last night around 7 PM as we were driving to Wrentham to pick up Teri.

When we got home, we had a hard time waking him up enough to get him out of the car (he's really too big to pick up and carry for long distances these days). He cried and fussed. Once we got him on the porch, he dragged himself over to the couch, took of his shoes, hat, gloves, and coat, and tried to fall asleep. But it was freezing out there - barely warmer than outside, there's no heat except what radiates from the internal wall - so we couldn't allow that.

So with great difficulty we got him into the living room, where he laid down on the sofa again. Teri ended up carrying him up the stairs and into his bed.

She fell asleep soon after.

I stayed up and played some Diablo II: LOD. At around 9:35 I headed for bed. Ten minutes later, I sat bolt upright: I'd heard a cry of distress from Sebastian's room.

He was sitting half-upright, sobbing sleepily. "My tummy hurts!" he cried.

"Do you think you're going to throw up?"

"Maybe..."

I looked around frantically, but couldn't find a trash can. We'd left it in our room the night that he'd thrown up on our bed. So I ran back to our room and grabbed one (incidentally and not entirely unintentionally waking up Teri in the process), and ran back to his room. He drank some water, Teri came in and helped soothe him, and we left him in his bed with the trash can (a new one, quite clean) on the bed next to him.

I went back to bed and fell asleep. Sometime in the night, around 2 AM, Sebastian woke up and came into our bed; later, when I got up to got to the bathroom and came back, he'd stretched out his arm and taken up my space. So I went to his bed to sleep.

That night, I had a dream.

I was in a small bed, in my office. Of course, in the real world I work in a cube, not an office, but in my dream I was in a small bedroom-like office at my workplace. I lay there in bed for a couple of hours, worrying about sleeping at work - it didn't seem right - and then things changed.

There was some sort of odd corporate roleplaying test going on. We were at a rural location; we were all going to be cows. Each of us was given a cow costume to wear. They were designed to let us walk upright, and (since I'm sure you're wondering) they did not have udders. Or at least mine didn't.

We were each handed a piece of paper telling us what type of cow we were. We would be graded on how well we stuck to our roles. I was a "tabula rasa" cow, which meant that I had no memory and was unable to learn or remember anything; it would be a mark against me if I were to accidentally demonstrate learning ability.

This seemed pretty unfair to me, since the other cows were competing to become the leader of the herd; it felt as if I'd been forced into a village idiot category before I'd even had a chance to compete.

But I tried to play the part and make the best of it. Incidentally, in hindsight the whole thing was very much like most of the SIL/ILF-type roleplaying events that I'd experienced, especially the unfair role assignments. Slowly the dream ended and I realized that I was sleeping on Sebastian's bed; I was still asleep, but I had some idea of where I was. I guessed that morning was near.

My back was to the door, but I heard Sebastian's footsteps as he came into the room. He climbed up on the bed behind me, and kissed me on the shoulder. Then he rubbed his face on the top-back of my head, where some men develop a bald spot (and which is, in my case, completely bald); he's never done that before. It felt funny. Finally he climbed part-way over my back and planted a kiss on my temple.

"It's morning! Time to get up, Daddy!"

A long night. But not a bad one.

D&D dice

Just did an Irony Games email die roll for my dwarf:

notreal@gmail.com requested that 20 rolls of 4 6-sided dice be rolled.
The lowest die for each roll won't be counted.
Roll them bones ... your dice are
Roll 1: 6, [4], 6, 6 = 18.
Roll 2: 4, [1], 3, 1 = 8.
Roll 3: 3, [1], 4, 4 = 11.
Roll 4: 6, 6, 6, [4] = 18.
Roll 5: 6, 5, [3], 4 = 15.
Roll 6: [2], 2, 5, 2 = 9.

Where would YOU put those rolls?

Addition: I posted this just before running for the train, so I didn't get a chance to add something rather amusing. My game group has their own way of rolling up characters, as just about every group does. In their case, they roll 4d6 and take the best three - but you ignore all rolls below 16, and keep rolling until you DO get a 16 or better. And after you've made that 16+, the next five rolls, however good or bad, must be taken. Of course you can assign the six rolls to your characteristics as you wish.

I used the Irony Games dice server to generate a set of 20 rolls of 4d6-take-the-best-three. I figured that the odds were excellent that I'd get a 16 or better in the first 14 rolls. Incidentally, 20 rolls are the most you can make at one time. And the rolls are numbered sequentially - it's a really useful tool.

So I made the rolls, and not only did I not get better than a 15 in the first 14 rolls - I didn't get anything higher than a 15 at all. I shot off an email to a couple of guys from the game, telling them about that rather remarkable result, and then tried for a re-roll.

The results, in order, were what you see above. I deleted the remaining 14 rolls, of course, but there were no other 18s among them.

D&D dice

Just did an Irony Games email die roll for my dwarf:

notreal@gmail.com requested that 20 rolls of 4 6-sided dice be rolled.
The lowest die for each roll won't be counted.
Roll them bones ... your dice are
Roll 1: 6, [4], 6, 6 = 18.
Roll 2: 4, [1], 3, 1 = 8.
Roll 3: 3, [1], 4, 4 = 11.
Roll 4: 6, 6, 6, [4] = 18.
Roll 5: 6, 5, [3], 4 = 15.
Roll 6: [2], 2, 5, 2 = 9.

Where would YOU put those rolls?

Addition: I posted this just before running for the train, so I didn't get a chance to add something rather amusing. My game group has their own way of rolling up characters, as just about every group does. In their case, they roll 4d6 and take the best three - but you ignore all rolls below 16, and keep rolling until you DO get a 16 or better. And after you've made that 16+, the next five rolls, however good or bad, must be taken. Of course you can assign the six rolls to your characteristics as you wish.

I used the Irony Games dice server to generate a set of 20 rolls of 4d6-take-the-best-three. I figured that the odds were excellent that I'd get a 16 or better in the first 14 rolls. Incidentally, 20 rolls are the most you can make at one time. And the rolls are numbered sequentially - it's a really useful tool.

So I made the rolls, and not only did I not get better than a 15 in the first 14 rolls - I didn't get anything higher than a 15 at all. I shot off an email to a couple of guys from the game, telling them about that rather remarkable result, and then tried for a re-roll.

The results, in order, were what you see above. I deleted the remaining 14 rolls, of course, but there were no other 18s among them.