A week that started out quite rough ended on, if not a high note, at least significantly better than it started.
You might recall that last week I mentioned needing to take Krystal’s car to the garage. She had complained that it was doing something weird and I thought maybe it was the timing belt. The mechanic I usually use is less than a mile from our house; if I could drive in a straight line instead of two right-hand turns and a left it might even be under a quarter mile. Anyway, in that short time it felt like the car would die at any time: it jumped and jerked and had trouble getting up to speed and I found myself shifting into park at the single stoplight just to get some relief. But I made it there safely and that’s when things started to get a bit worse than planned.
It turned out that while they had the parts to replace the belt, they did not have the tools to loosen two of the locking nuts. The tools were proprietary to the manufacturer, which meant that, unfortunately for my bank account, I would need to take it to the dealership, I went online and found that while the dealership was only two stoplights down the road, they didn’t open for another 45 minutes. However, I could make an appointment for that time to have my vehicle looked at. I sat in the parking lot rather than drive it anywhere else until my appointment.
Of course when I got there, the dealership wanted to run a diagnostic. I was in two minds about this: I was reasonably sure what the problem was, but not certain, and the symptoms could be one of a few things – I had simply chosen the most likely. I considered by budget and realized that they were right: they could fix what I asked but if it didn’t fix the problem I would be throwing even more money at the problem. I agreed to the diagnostic.
It turns out that was a good choice. An hour later I received a video of their inspection of my vehicle, including a shot under the hood with the shaking I had felt. They showed that the belt was in good working order and then showed the real culprit: two electrical shorts in and leading to the coil (my spark plugs were shot as well). You could even see where the wire coating had started to warp from the current . . .
Now the nightmares I’d been having for the past week about the car exploding seemed to make much more sense.
They couldn’t fix the car that day as they had to order the parts, so the dealership shuttled me home where I picked up my own car and went to work. A coworker picked me up the next morning, and early in the afternoon on Tuesday the dealership called me to let me know it was good to go. They shuttled me back and I paid. It was a little over what I’d estimated myself, but much cheaper than trying to replace two parts trying to fix the problem.
I was also glad to be able to afford the repair. It wiped out what savings we might’ve had, but it’s paid . . .
All that meant we were really in the mood for comfort food, so I made up a batch of sloppy joes – not coincidently, it was also Sloppy Joe Day. I was a little concerned since Krystal has started to show some allergic reactions to tomatoes, but she said “I want sloppy joes and I’ll deal with it” and later on “I forgot what you were making for supper then remembered and did the little happy wiggle”.
There’s apparently lots of ways of make sloppy joe but the best ones are served open-faced and require you to eat them with a knife and fork. In my opinion.
Tuesday/Wednesday was the vernal equinox, and I can’t quite explain why but it felt right to watch Guillermo del Toro’s film, Pan’s Labyrinth. So I did.
Thursday was International Day of Forests. Did you take a walk in the woods, enjoying the magic of a fairy circle or supporting your local cryptids – safely, of course?
As a certain Canal Cryptid reminded me
Yes, yes.
In these trying times, we need your bones AHEM support as never before. Come wander under our trees. Dance the Round in the Mushroom Ring with us. Lay yourself down beside our streams.
We’re friendly creatures.
Not at all evil.
Admittedly, this still sounds like a good time. And the fae already have my name, so . . . I’m okay with already being “theirs”. There is at least one spot in the world where the forest dare not touch me. But I am also 650 miles away from that spot, and so I am respectful and reverential as a visitor in a land not my own.
And now, brief political commentary. Scroll ahead to the pretty skull if you want jump to the next section.
First, this is your reminder that Nex Benedict was murdered and the Tulsa PD is working hard to cover it up and protect the students who killed him.
Second, Chris Rufo – proponent of white Christofacism – has selected another target in his “fight against plagiarism” (which is really him fighting against people of color in positions of academic authority). Based on how he defines plagiarism, I would take this time to point out that “Christopher Rufo” contains all the same letters as “Ferric Poohs Hurt” rearranged and without citation. Therefore, Christopher Rufo is a plagiarist.
Here ends the political commentary.
Friday was a very good day. I had already taken the day off for two reasons: I had accumulated the maximum number of petty leave hours, and a local tattoo shop was having a flash event starting in the late morning. I slept in an hour later than usual and then started the day with a good breakfast:
Some of my friends also wanted to get tattooed, so we met up at 10:00 to get in line; the event started at 11:00. Here are the faces of three folks about to be micro-stabbed hundreds/thousands of times for a good cause:
At 11:00 they took the first ten inside and then had the rest of us sign in; they would call us when we were “number 10” – out of the 100 slots they had available, we were numbers 17 – 19. To pass the time we walked down the strip mall to a grocery store, picking up some sliced melon and a package of Twinkies and a bottle of orange soda. I had the soda.
Around 12:30 or so they called our names (we had walked back down and were sitting on a bench outside the door) and we got in and stenciled. And then we waited as the folks ahead of us got their tattoos. The shop was limiting each person to no more than three pieces, and it seemed many of the folks ahead of us were getting two. But time seemed to fly by and by 1:20 I was done and bandaged and outside. I had gone first, and mine was the simplest of the three of us, but even so by 1:30 we were all done and ready to eat.
I’m sure that by now you may be wondering what I got. Well, wonder no more!
Smokey is with me always, now.
We met up with other friends for lunch who did not get tattoos and decided on getting burritos or tacos. It was a good lunch, but then the sky got really dark and we all collectively decided to try to beat the rain home. I don’t think any of us made it . . .
Friday was our D&D legacy campaign, and while it was a good time spent with friends, it was also emotional and gut-wrenching as, now in Session 11, we had our first PC death of the campaign with Aodhán, our bard-unwillingly-turned-warlock, fell defending the party from a pack of werewolves led by an Avatar of The Hunt (some of our campaign is inspired by The Magnus Archives; as I type this I’ve just passed listening to Episode 114).
If you perhaps want to skip over this section as it will touch on character death, scroll ahead to the picture of the happy kitten.
I won’t recount the whole thing here, since I’d really like you to go read the whole story over on our Wikia pages, but I will admit to being quite sad that these three characters will never meet:
My old PC Garrett gave Aodhán Ragnarok in the original campaign finale, and two hundered years later (in our current campaign) Aodhán and Ahri traveled together for a little over a week before being unwillingly separated.
But as Ciarán, Aodhán’s player, has reminded us often: Aodhán’s surname is Helason. Aodhán will return someday, albeit differently. Our own PCs may not live to see him again, but while we can, we will hold him in our hearts.
If you’ve never played a TTRPG you might wonder about character death. I think I’ll share what others said on Instagram, where Ciarán posted his first picture of Aodhán:
As a DM, the death of a character always gives me pause. Did we do right by them? Aodhan went out one of the few ways that feels right for him. May me meet again, Twice Born Prince – Jax (Dungeon Master)
Safe travels and warm passages to Aodhán, [with] Zyna’s eternal gratitude to his sacrifice. He’ll have plenty of hugs waiting for him when he returns, even if it’s after this party is gone, because we will be sure to spread his name and his deeds in story and song. – Katarzyna (Sorcerer)
His impact on the party will be lasting. His memory will live on through them. And till he treads the lands of Hilan again they shall keep him alive in their hearts and minds. – Yulinda (Artificer)
When he returns, may he find a roaring fire and make warm friends. Until then, those whose lives he touched will carry him in their hearts, for a man is not dead while his name is still spoken. – Kai (Paladin)
Yesterday was Cuddly Kitten Day, and as it was also Saturday, it really was Caturday. I asked folks to share their Smol Beans (of any actual age) with me and I would write them down in my book of Cats I Pat on the Internet:
- Oreo
- Lando
- Houston
- Unnamed Kitty
- Dippy
- Mischief
- Moon Moon
- Little Dude
- Gus
- Sheba
- Bella
- Kevin
- Craig
- Patty
- Lottie
- Binx
- Kevin (another Kevin)
- Yelena
- Wanda
- Rex
- Pickles
- Pigeon
- Fifi
Then this morning I woke up to find I had made Kitty’s Mystery Jukebox. I took a screenshot because the page is updated weekly:
But before that, last night, I went to the penultimate performance of our local production of The SpongeBob Musical (Youth Edition).
It was good, but I had forgotten that, by the nature of the show, there would be a lot of kids there. I quickly became peopled out.
But now it’s Sunday and I’m listening to podcasts while I type D&D notes and write this post and scroll social media.
What are you doing?
Running In My Head 
as soon as I saw the tat I thought “smokey”…..love it.
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Yep! It was purrfect
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