Now this sounds cool:
The first advertisement appeared in USA Today a week ago, right on schedule.
People from around the world had stayed up all night waiting for it, talking in chat rooms and online forums. It had to be a clue, they thought. Everything before it had been a clue.
“LOST. The Cube,” read the ad, posted at the top of the paper’s “Notices” section. “Reward Offered. Not only an object of great significance to the city but also a technological wonder.”
Until this morning, I had not heard of the new medium referred to “alternate-reality gaming.” The CNET article calls the medium “an obsession-inspiring genre that blends real-life treasure hunting, interactive storytelling, video games and online community . . . .” An “ARG” is apparently an “intensely complicated series of puzzles involving coded Web sites, real-world clues like the newspaper advertisements, phone calls in the middle of the night from game characters and more.”
The ad referred to above is in reality (!) a clue in the new ARG known alternatively (appropriately enough) as Perplex City, Project Syzygy, or The Cube. One of the early puzzles reveals a clue pointing to the website www.perplexcity.com, which currently shows a letter from someone (or thing) named Sente, a citizen of Perplex City. There’s more at www.projectsyzygy.com.
This idea epitomizes, literally, the notion of thinking-outside-the-box: it expands role-playing games into the real world and the real world into role-playing games. I’ve never seen the movie, but it reminds me of the trailer of The Game, starring Michael Douglas. Or maybe it’s more like The DaVinci Code meets How to Host a Murder. (More on The DaVinci Code when I’ve finished reading the book.)
I haven’t had much time to read many of them, but there appear to be several primers for beginners and others who are jumping into the game late. Read through this, for some really crazy stuff. Alas, I’m afraid I won’t have time to participate, but I love the idea.
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Having escaped death and serious bodily injury during the construction phase, and having avoided measurable brain damage (or having suffered such significant brain damage that I am blissfully unaware of it) during the priming phase, we now tackle Stage III: Painting.
Now you would think that painting is a relatively safe activity, but in actuality it presents significant opportunity for permanent psychological impairment. Allow me to illustrate:
Since Angela and I both like the Abbyville’s standard paint job as shown on the playhousedesigns.com website, we start with the yellow base coat:
So far, so good. Just trying to mimic a picture.
But then we start thinking, which is often a mistake in our house.
Angela asks, “What color should we paint the walls?” And by asking, she of course is judging my devotion to her by my ability to guess her preferences and pretend that they’re mine.
And let me digress for a second. At the time, this really seemed like a simple question. I mean, really, how many colors are there? Seven, right? ROY G BIV. Red, orange (Go Big Orange!), yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. Seven colors. And I am pretty familiar with these colors, with the exception of indigo, which I believe is the name of a chain of convenient stores in Southern Asia.
Hold on. Slappy’s asking me to assist her with a band aid because she has a dot on her thumb.
Okay, crisis averted. Now where was I? Oh, how hard can it be to just pick one of seven colors and paint? And yes, I realize that colors come in different shades. But light, dark, and in-the-middle is about as complicated as I get.
So, professing a sincere desire to assist my wife in the finer details of color selection, I power up Punch! Master Landscape to help us make the best choice. Of course, I really just want to mess around with the computer, but the program does provide some assistance.
We narrow the color choice down to either blue:
or pink, which confuses me because it isn’t one of the seven ROY G BIV colors:
After only a few short hours of examining the two pictures above, we decide to go with blue.
So blue it is. Easy enough, right? I immediately start thinking (and remember the usual consequence of such behavior in my household), “I get a gallon of blue at Home Depot, slap it on with a brush (or a roller, if I’m feeling particularly ambitious), and then nap while it dries. When I wake, I got me some fine blue walls, and we’re done with the whole project.”
Angela has other ideas. Lots of them. The wife of my youth embarks on what turns out to be a fortnight-long process of self-torment, contemplating in excruciating detail each and every conceivable combination of color, shade, sheen, and technique.
I’ll spare you most of the details, but here’s just a brief glimpse of the agony: The Behr website (which, I feel compelled to point out, is only one of many companies specializing in paint) color-browser has 7 basic blues: Pageant Song, Anenome, Bayou, Costa Rica Blue, Azurean, Water Flow, and Jamaican Sea. I feel warm just typing the names. Each of these starter blues can be “fine-tuned” by making it lighter, darker, “more muted,” or “less muted.” (I sometimes wish our children had a “more muted” option.) Anyway, there are typically several degrees by which a starter blue can be fine-tuned. For example, Costa Rica Blue can be made “more muted” by six degrees. It can be “lightened” by three degrees and “darkened” by three degrees. I tried to determine just how many variations of Costa Rica Blue there are, but quite frankly, I got lost chasing down the color-browser’s varied paths of mutation and hue and couldn’t find my way back to basic (basic?!) Costa Rica Blue. Oh, and it involved thinking, and you know how I feel about that.
So, let’s just say that there are 50 variations of Costa Rica Blue. And from this point on, all estimates will be conservative. And let’s say that each of the other starter blues — Pageant Song, Anemone, Bayou, Azurean, Water Flow, and Jamaican Sea (ooh, I suddenly feel an inexplicable desire for a tropical holiday) — also has 50 variations. So we have 350 shades to choose from.
Of blue.
From Behr.
“And what about sheen?” Angela asks. And again I fail to comprehend the true complexity of the question. I mentally flip a coin. “Uh, sheen. Sheen would be good, right?”
But to sheen or not to sheen is not the question. The right answer is apparently one of the following: flat, flat-enamel, eggshell, satin, semi-gloss, or high-gloss.
So each of the 350 blues comes in six sheens, and that’s what, 2100 blues? Conservatively.
But wait, there’s more! There’s Inspiration! AKA technique: Sandwashing, Venetian plaster, sponging on, sponging off, ragging on, ragging off, colorwashing, dragging, crackle, Pearlescents, and one other that I can’t list because Netnanny considers it an unsavory term. But anyway, 11 “techniques.” So, let’s see . . . 23,100 blues.
So we’ve got the blues.
And here I’m shifting to past tense, so don’t freak out. We decided on a base coat of satin applied with a ragging off technique. The two color combination we actually used is a closely guarded trade secret, which we will not divulge except under threat of death or torture. (You know, like somebody threatening to make us paint or something.) But here’s a hint.
Here’s the room after the first coat of blue, but because the picture was taken at night, the blue looks much darker than it really is:
And then things got really hectic for about a week, as we engaged in a frenzied flurry of activity to get the bunk beds and the rest of the room done prior to the arrival of out-of-town guests. Slappy complicated matters by regularly touching recently painted surfaces and then trolling all through the house, pausing only to pee on the sofa once in awhile.
In the meantime, we received the custom-made foam mattress. Angela said it was wrapped extensively with packing material resembling Saran Wrap, which I thought was just hilarious. I mean, the mattress itself is basically packing material. (Angela pointed out that they probably didn’t want anything to puncture the mattress, but that’s just not as funny.) Anyway, we put the mattress in the loft and used the cling wrap to fasten Slappy to the kitchen table.
In the chaos, I stopped blogging and taking pictures, so I don’t have a record of the steps taken to this point (those documents have been shredded). But, as you can see, we “antiqued” the bunk beds and put on the shutters, molding, and part of the shingles (actually, they’re cedar shakes).
The jury’s still out on the shakes. We may take them off and just paint the roof. And we still have the hand-painting to do (which will be done by Angela’s sister, Pam Heikkila, who owns and operates a fine art photography studio in Farmington, Minnesota), but at least we got to the point where the kids could sleep in their own room instead of on the air mattress in the basement.
And they were pretty excited:
By the way, Slappy thwarted her parents’ attempt to bind her to the dinnner table with kitchen supplies. And she’s excited about that, too.
For the final installment of The Sundry Perils of Bunk-Bedding, go here.
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Friday night. We were able to get the 80-pager to a point where we don’t have to work frantically over the weekend to have it ready for signing Monday, and the out-of-towners we were expecting tomorrow morning are snowed in, and we’re mostly finished with the bunk beds and the rest of the girls’ room, except for hanging a couple of pictures and the fancy hand-painting that will be done by the guests once they thaw out, so tonight we’re just taking it easy.
As evidenced by the above sentence, a week-long birthing of a pudgy legal document has apparently rendered me unable to write short sentences. I’m beat.
And speaking of words that resemble the word bleat, you should, if you have the time and/or the interest, motivation, desire [stop it!], . . .
Focus. Brevity is a virtue. Okay. Ready?
Go . . . read . . . today’s . . . Bleat. There, I did it. Precise, to the point, pithy, and devoid of redundant synonyms and synonymous phrases.
Oops. Oh, well. Braking is generally a process.
Anyway, I just love reading about Lileks loving his kid. And who knew he had such a great radio voice? Well, not me, anyway.
An update on the bunk bed project, with pictures, tomorrow.
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Alright. Settle. I have not died from dust or primer-inhalation. I have not fallen off the face of the earth. I have not succumbed (man, that word looks strange) to rookie blogger burnout, where one enjoys a fiery blast off only to suffer an equally rapid flame-out. No, between my regular work duties, a certain 80-page contract, the bunk beds, and the kids, I’ve had little time for anything else.
Does Amazon sell time? Hmmm. Not what I had in mind.
Later.
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Update to the upcoming Southern Marinated Vacation. (I don’t like the title, either. Email me and suggest something better.)
Like I said earlier, we’ve got the cabin. But what are we going to do? How about hiking? Well, maybe not:
GATLINBURG, Tenn. Mar 9, 2005 — Park rangers rescued four hikers Wednesday who had become stranded in snow in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. One had to be airlifted to a hospital.
The sick hiker, Matthew Shultz, was in good condition after he was taken to the hospital as a precaution, Great Smoky Mountains National Park spokesman Bob Miller said. He had been showing signs of hypothermia, including vomiting and slurred speech.
. . . .
The men started out during good weather Sunday with plans to hike the 71 miles of the Appalachian Trail in the park.
However, they were ill-equipped when rain started falling Monday and then turned to snow, authorities said.
The hikers in that story were apparently not aware of the degree of East Tennessee’s topographical diversity. Visitors often guffaw when all the schools close at the first sign of a snowflake. But the next hill over may be another 1,000 feet higher, and they may get six inches.
Apologies to poor Mr. Schultz, whose diagnosis of hypothermia was probably not so amusing to him, but I wondered if he wasn’t just enjoying the Tennessee high life. Vomiting? It’s flu season, after all. Slurred speech? Moonshine. Have I made my case?
Okay, so enough of that. What are we going to do for the Southern Fried Vacation? (No, title still not quite right. I mean it. Email me.) I mean what do you do if you’re not in the mood for vomiting and slurred speech? Here’s a few ideas:
You really can’t visit East Tennessee with children and not go to Dollywood. Okay, the idea initially conjures up images of, well, first it conjures up images of Dolly’s uh, topographical diversity, but after that admit it, y’all are thinking we’re paying cash money to ride pigs. But it’s really a great amusement park. The rides are great, the shows are great, the park is beautiful (trees everywhere), and the environment is as family- and Christian- friendly as I have ever experienced (it has a dress code!). And we don’t ride pigs, we eat them. Which, by the way, just shows our daily support for the annual Eat an Animal for PETA Day.
Dolly has also recently opened Splash Country. We haven’t been there yet, but it looks great, and based on our substantial experience with Dollywood, I’m sure it’s well done.
By the way, if you’re interested, pre-season prices are in effect through March 20, 2005.
Dolly is somehow affiliated with Dixie Stampede. Oh, here’s the connection. Should be fun for anyone who likes horses and food. We’ve been there once, and yes, they make you eat with your fingers, but that’s only so people don’t throw flatware at the stallions. When we went a couple of years ago, I scored a point for the South (or maybe it was the North) in horseshoes. Well, actually, I beat the Yankee (or the Fine Southern Gentleman) at pitching toilet seats toward a pole in the middle of the arena. As a general rule, never challenge me when it comes to anything toilet-related.
And then there’s the Comedy Barn, which looks like a family-friendly comedy theater disguised as a, well, a barn. And their web site features an interactive pig, which by itself is reason to give them money.
One final idea for now: The Applewood Farmhouse Restaurant. Apple Juleps, Apple Fritters, Apple Butter, other apple-related foodstuffs. You can also have pig. And you have to eat there because it was founded by, ready for this, the Hicks family! Really!
So, now I’m calling on all of my adopted family and friends who are actually from around here, to suggest some more places to go and some more totally-Southern things to do. I’ll post again on this topic after I consult with our brilliant (and I’m not joking about that) C.F.O., Larry Linville, who once came into my office and said, “Joel, rekkin azaka flar maykeh beeg beeskit?”
He’s from Erwin, where they once hung an elephant.
- A Southern-Marinated Vacation, Part I
- A Southern Marinated Vacation, Part II
- Hillbilly Holiday, Required Listening
- Hillbilly Holiday, Required Viewing, Part I
- Hillbilly Holiday, Required Viewing Part II
- Hillbilly Holiday, Required Viewing Part III
- Hillbilly Holiday, Stuff You Absolutely Must Eat When Visiting East Tennessee
- Hillbilly Holiday, Y’allbonics and Other Southern Sayings
- Hillbilly Holiday, Days 1 and 2
- Hillbilly Holiday, Days 3 and 4
- Hillbilly Holiday, Days 5 and 6
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Hey, the Google AdSense ads have started appearing. I apparently struck a nerve with the bunk bed industry. If it’s still there, check out the ad that mentions Asian Bedroom Furniture. I like the platform beds, but I’m not sure I could stand up from a squatting position first thing in the morning. But at least it’s not too far to fall.
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A few administrative issues. First, I’ve disabled the comments. I’m no longer interested in what you have to say.
Kidding. Use the email address at the right to contact me. It’s one of those invitation only Google email addresses. Don’t I feel special! So if you want to be notified of new posts, let me know. There’s a different address for complaints. But read the fine print.
Second, I’ve signed up for Google’s AdSense program, so you’ll start seeing ads on the blog. I don’t have control over the ads that show up; the seemingly random ad that magically appears is purportedly based on some proprietary intuitive Googlish interpretation of the content of the blog. Knowing me, well, let’s just say it could get interesting. Stay tuned.
Third, … oh what was third? Hmmm. Oh, nevermind. Meeting adjourned!
Wait a minute. Thanks to Google for enlightening me. Today is apparently International Women’s Day.
So, happy day to all you international women.
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I have survived the assembly of the bunk beds. New additions are the shelves and the two corbels (and the semi-made bed):
We devoted today to priming — a relatively hazardless activity, except as it relates to our carpet and my brain cells. Just finished, and I’m feeling quite loopy.
The special order foam mattress for the loft bed is on the way.
Later, the paint.
And the molding.
And the shingles.
And the chemo.
For the next installment of The Sundry Perils of Bunk-Bedding, go here.
Comments
Now this sounds cool:
The first advertisement appeared in USA Today a week ago, right on schedule.
People from around the world had stayed up all night waiting for it, talking in chat rooms and online forums. It had to be a clue, they thought. Everything before it had been a clue.
“LOST. The Cube,” read the ad, posted at the top of the paper’s “Notices” section. “Reward Offered. Not only an object of great significance to the city but also a technological wonder.”
Until this morning, I had not heard of the new medium referred to “alternate-reality gaming.” The CNET article calls the medium “an obsession-inspiring genre that blends real-life treasure hunting, interactive storytelling, video games and online community . . . .” An “ARG” is apparently an “intensely complicated series of puzzles involving coded Web sites, real-world clues like the newspaper advertisements, phone calls in the middle of the night from game characters and more.”
The ad referred to above is in reality (!) a clue in the new ARG known alternatively (appropriately enough) as Perplex City, Project Syzygy, or The Cube. One of the early puzzles reveals a clue pointing to the website www.perplexcity.com, which currently shows a letter from someone (or thing) named Sente, a citizen of Perplex City. There’s more at www.projectsyzygy.com.
This idea epitomizes, literally, the notion of thinking-outside-the-box: it expands role-playing games into the real world and the real world into role-playing games. I’ve never seen the movie, but it reminds me of the trailer of The Game, starring Michael Douglas. Or maybe it’s more like The DaVinci Code meets How to Host a Murder. (More on The DaVinci Code when I’ve finished reading the book.)
I haven’t had much time to read many of them, but there appear to be several primers for beginners and others who are jumping into the game late. Read through this, for some really crazy stuff. Alas, I’m afraid I won’t have time to participate, but I love the idea.
Comments
