Today, I made my first attempt in a few years to start up a new Dungeons and Dragons group. It's been on my mind for a little while, but there was a turning point today that made me want to make a more definite move in this direction. One of the big issues with starting up a gaming group has been the coronavirus, but as of this Friday, it will have been two weeks since my second dose of the vaccine. This is true for most of the other teachers in my district.

I happened to be contemplating about this very idea as my D&D Support Group started gathering for their Wednesday lunch meeting when one of my fellow teachers popped his head into my room to say that he had copies of the Fifth Edition manuals that he would be willing to donate to the club. I asked him why he was willing to hand them over. He said that he wasn't really using them as he hadn't had a group to play with for a while.

"... Would you like to join one?" was my response.

Another teacher had earlier lamented that he had not been able to game for a while due to scheduling conflicts with previous gaming friends who now live across the country. More importantly, he said that he wants to DM (be in charge of) a game. One of my hesitancies in starting another group is that I usually have to be the DM, and I'm still not at the point where I have the time to really commit to that kind of planning (at least, until I finish my dissertation). 

It's just conjectural at the moment, but I think that we might be on track to actual start putting something together relatively soon. Already, I have several character ideas developing in my head. I will need to know how many people are actually interested in playing and what sort of campaign we might want to run before focusing in and building my character. However, the process already has me quite excited. 

In general, people are afraid of change. Uncertainty tends to lead to anxiety, which is a condition which most of us prefer to avoid. We make all sorts of preparations to help guard against change and put our faith in ideas that promise stability.

This is why many cultures tend to isolate themselves when faced with new ideas. Many religions preach the need to return to "fundamental" ideas of their faith. People often turn to leaders who promise a return to some glorious (and usually mythological) past condition for their region. 

However, change is life. Without change, we would never heal from our injuries. Without change no buds would grow, no flowers bloom. Without change we would be stuck in a perpetually static state, a winter of discontent if you will.

I heard about a change today that I partially expected, but also dreaded. I'm comfortable with how things are right now. I'm afraid that change might bring difficulties and hardship in my life. I had to remind myself that change also provides that opportunity for something better as well, for everyone involved. 

I need to open myself to the possibilities that change might bring so I will also grow better for it.

I almost got stuck in the massive icy puddle in the southwest corner of the school lot. Although some roads are completely dry, others make it feel like I’m off-reading. I’m concerned about damaging Mera’s undercarriage considering how low her clearance is. There were some disturbing scraping sounds—especially in the school lot—as I drove her today.

Meanwhile, most of the garage’s roof snow fell today. Despite my earlier efforts, the cabin heater’s exhaust was buried. Thankfully, I managed to dig directly to it this time, making the process much quicker and easier. I had to spend some time clearing the blocked portion of the driveway too.

Even the Seward highway was closed today due to an avalanche that block traffic in either direction. As much as I like snow, I will be happier when this break up process is complete. It’s time for spring.

For the record, I do not believe what I'm about to suggest. Lately, I've been reading a fantasy book series about a con-artist who constructs elaborate ruses to part the wealthy from their wealth. Often he manages to do so simply through sheer bravados, making people believe whatever he is telling them, sometimes despite plenty of evidence to the contrary. This is a common element in many stories or shows about con-artists. 

In today's Gospel, before entering Jerusalem, Jesus gives His disciples specific instructions in regards to getting a donkey for Him and taking possession of a room for their Passover celebration. Especially considering other stories about how busy Jerusalem is at that time, and how limited Jesus' resources were, it is surprising that He was able to get a room of that size with the required foods prepared in anticipation of their arrival. All He told His disciples to say to procure the donkey and the room were "the Master has need of it" or "The Teacher says, 'Where is my guest room … ?'."

Now, my actual belief is that these are signs of Jesus' power and the influence that He had over the world, specifically the people in Jerusalem. However, as I read and heard the two Gospel readings today, I could not help but think about how this is the same way that the con-artist would have approached the situation. He and his friends would speak with the same self-assuredness and even authority. 

Jesus usually expected His disciples to go about almost as beggars as they spread His word. It's interesting that He takes His final meal with them in a place prepared for Him, just as He rode into the city that would hold His execution as a king would ride in. It's like He wanted for both Him and them to have that one good day on Earth before facing His death and the challenges that would follow. 

I have been justifiably told on more than one occasion that I must love the sound of my own voice. Although there is a high level of truth in such a statement, my doctoral study is starting to test my limits in this regard. I've been listening to hours worth of interviews for the purposes of fixing the automated transcriptions that my transcription service made of them. Often, I have to listen to the same phrase several times as I make subtle adjustments and corrections. The process is certainly time-consuming as each interview is roughly an hour long.

I'm still about nine interviews shy of my goal, but at least I have something to do as I wait for more people to volunteer. Once I get these interviews transcribed, I still need to comb through them carefully to aggregate and analyze the data that I need. It's a good thing that I'm interested in learning what this information can teach me about the use of gamification in my district. I've even been learning some things that I did not expect. In fact, I've been happily playing one of the board/RPG games that one of my interviewees suggested.

​Still, I would like to get this done sooner rather than later.

After his school's parent read-aloud of The Fantastic Mr. Fox came to end an a couple of weeks ago, Rowen and I decided to keep the daily tradition going. While I was hoping that he would choose from the Harry Potter or Chronicles of Narnia series, he instead chose a different book from a Roald Dahl collection that I didn't know we had: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I was hesitant for a variety of reasons, but Rowen's enthusiasm was high enough that I figured that I would give it a go.

My previous experience with the story was limited to two viewings of the 1971 film and one with the 2005 film back when people still liked Johnny Depp. The older movie terrified me as a child. In particular, the spinning fan-blade has long haunted my nightmares. The newer one felt much more silly than sinister--which is what the book turned out to be as well.

Although I still do not like Dahl's stories, I did enjoy reading the book for Rowen. It gave us something to talk about, and he seemed to get quite into the story, even making predictions as it went along. Once the book was done, I figured that we would watch the movie (I was hoping for the modern one), but it turned out that we didn't own it (I thought we did) and it wasn't on any of our online subscriptions. When I checked at Freddy's today, I could only find the older movie, so I decided to face my childhood fear and watch that one.

It was both just as horrifying and still not as bad as I remembered it. The differences between it and the book are myriad. Like Ready Player One's book and movie, it was almost like two completely different tales were made with the same characters and basic plot. However, what really surprised me were the musical numbers. Only by watching this movie did I figure out where that brief melody in Thor: Ragnarok when Thor is in the chair approaching the Wonka-like Gamemaster came from, not to mention "The Candyman Can" song.

Willy Wonka is almost a villain in the film, manipulating people with cold calculation rather than being a whimsical, out-of-touch inventor like he is in the book. I really do not understand the strange psychotic episode that takes place on the boat as macabre images cross the screen like a horrifying brainwashing program. Add to that the lack of reliable assurances that the naughty children are safe at the end, and I feel that my childhood fears of this movie were well-placed.

Thankfully, Rowen did not seem to be bothered in the same way. In fact, he was more interested in noting the similarities and differences between the movie and the book. It does not seem that he will face the same lifelong trauma that I did.

I just need to convince him to try the Harry Potter series again.

With temperatures in the high thirties and the sun beaming away happily, the snow was melting at a good pace today. This was especially true on the metal roofs of our house and garage (the cabin lost its snow a while ago due to its more aggressive angle). All of the snow above our arctic entryway slid off in one roaring avalanche and most of the southwest facing roof of the house gradually fell off in a less dramatic fashion.

The one roof that I'm most concerned about is the garage side that faces the cabin. If it slides in pieces, there usually isn't a problem. However, if the whole roof-full of snow comes down at once, the force drives the snow forward to land along the wall of the cabin, blocking off the exhaust for its heater. On several occasions, we have had to go out and dig the exhaust out so that the heater can function.

As we have guests coming this weekend and above freezing high temperatures for the next few days, I think that I might try to pull down some of the snow preemptively tomorrow. I don't have a roof-shovel, but the snow pile is high enough off of the ground that I should be able to reach a decent way up the roof with a normal shovel. That is assuming that the snow will not fall on its own before I get home from work. 

In which case, I will need to spend that time digging it out.

Connor has always been extremely inquisitive. He has a knack for finding videos on YouTube that deal with creating strange items or concoctions which he then wants to try out. A few years ago, he was obsessed with making stress balls out of some viscous, putty-like material. Soon after, he was attempting to construct a grappling hook made of household items. He has designed several small video games. Occasionally, his interests delve into different types of artwork. 

Lately, this inquisitiveness has branched into the culinary realm. His creations have ranged from the relatively tame areas of brownies and smoothies, to more bizarre realms--such as using a protein-washing process on flour to make a meatless "chicken" dish. Some (like the meatless "chicken") do not go over well, while others (such as his recent chocolate-dipped ice cream tacos) are absolutely amazing. 

More often, he's been taking on the role of chef for our evening dinners. I've been really impressed with how his skills and ideas have been maturing while still keeping that imaginative spark. I'm interested to see what he will do next.

I thought that I was starting to understand septic systems--or at least my house's septic system. I was wrong. 

Starting with the first year that we owned our house, we have had to pump our septic tank at least once every year. On a couple of occasions, because we delayed, we first had to call in Steam-on-Wheels to melt the frozen blockages that occurred due to having a filled septic line. The very first time we had a problem, we called in Roto-Rooter (who--under the previous ownership--had put in a leach field just before we bought the house). They were the first ones to say that we needed to pump the tank and to expect to do so regularly (which was the second indication that they did a poor job). This is why, last year, we had our septic system replaced; at which point, we discovered that the leach field was poorly done (as suspected), the baffle was destroyed, and the pipe to the tank was misaligned.

Still, every year, pumping the tank was the ultimate solution. Thus, when we started having the same problem at about the same annual time, I went straight to calling for the only septic pumping company on the Kenai to come out yet again. As we the backed-up area would slowly drain, and we could still flush our toilets (cautiously), we did not put in an emergency call, but left a message so they would come on Monday. I also left a message with the company who put in my new septic system this past summer. 

The septic pumping truck got stuck coming up our driveway ... for almost three hours. The final struggle to free it with a tow truck made our driveway impassable, so they said for me to call once the driveway was clear again and wider than I had it the last time. I then received a call from the company that installed the new septic system. He had me check a few things and then informed me that getting the tank pumped would likely not solve the problem, but based on what I said, that there was probably a blockage between the house and the tank (something a friend of mine had suggested last week, but I was stuck in my way of thinking).

Today we had Roto-Rooter (under the new ownership) come out and check. We discovered a couple of things. Our bathroom, despite being only fifteen feet away from the laundry room, is not connected that drain system for over seventy feet. Thus, the blockage was not affecting our bathrooms (which--in hindsight--is quite fortunate). However, there was no sign as to what the blockage was or what might have caused it. Our drain pipes are configured in such a way that he cannot put a camera down to see the issue. 

Thankfully, we were able to avoid paying for an unnecessary pumping, our new septic system is working like it should, and the blockage (whatever it was) has been cleared. However, I've been left with even more questions about how our drain system works, and a nagging suspicion that this problem will show up again. I'm at least glad that the problem is solved for now.

As I’ve mentioned earlier, I received my second dose of the Pfizer vaccine against COVID-19 on Friday. I am pleased to report that my only side effect was an arm that was sore for that night and the following day. While there is some residual soreness if I press on the site now, it’s nothing that will keep me awake at night.
 
I was a little bit concerned going in to this second shot as I knew a couple of people who had aches and fevers soon after their second doses. Thankfully, I did not experience anything similar, nor did most of the people whom I have since asked. After the first shot, I felt tired the rest of the weekend, but that might have been due to a lack of sleep rather than a side effect of the vaccine. This weekend, I did not experience the same tiredness.
 
I find the recent studies about the vaccines even more encouraging. I also appreciate that the CDC has said that it should be safe for small groups of vaccinated people to meet together indoors without wearing masks. This is a good sign that life will be returning to a more comfortable condition in the near future.
 
However, I am still concerned about unprepared people acting more recklessly as the weather gets warmer. Even vaccinated, it’s still like going out into a lightning storm, hoping that the rubber soles are good enough. Sure, many people walk through unscathed even if unprotected, but that doesn’t mean it’s a smart decision.

In today's Gospel from John, Jesus directly addresses the Father in front of the crowd, and the Father answers Him directly. Many of them hear the Father's voice, but do not pull any understanding from what He says; instead, they believe that the reply was simply thunder. Others hear a voice, but believe it is an angel speaking to Jesus. Jesus tells them that the voice is for their sake, not for His.

I wonder how often I hear the voice of God but do not recognize it. Similarly, I wonder how often I hear His words through the scripture and assume that they are meant for someone else. The implication in this Gospel is that God speaks directly to us, providing messages that we are meant to hear. However, we are often dismissive of His words to us, ignoring (deliberately or not) what He is asking of us. Sometimes we try to twist what we know He wants as a means to justify our own selfish desires.

Jesus acknowledged that what God asked of Him was difficult and troubling. Still, He understood that the path before Him, although tortuous, was the one that led to the greatest future. God's message for us is not always an easy one to hear, but it is the message that we need.

I'm nearing the end of the fourth book in Brandon Sanderson's Stormlight Archive Series: The Rhythm of War, and the pace has really picked up. I find that this is a fairly common phenomena when it comes to my reading practices. The first portions of the book usually take quite a while for me to get through, almost as though I am climbing uphill through difficult terrain. However, somewhere about the halfway point of the novel, my reading speed seems to pick up considerably. Thus while, it might take me weeks to get through the first half, I'm able to finish the second half in a matter of days.

Now, this is not always the case. There are books that, like the Pass of Caradhras, slowly mire me down until I reach a point where I can go no further. There are also some books for which I am so ravenous, such as when The Deathly Hallows first arrived, that I can consume them at a breakneck pace from start to finish, sometimes staying up throughout the night to finish almost 800 pages in a single sitting. Fortunately, these exceptions prove the rule.

Generally, I find that it takes me time to settle into a book as I am learning the characters and world that is established. My pace slows a bit as they begin to encounter their difficulties, particularly since I have to keep forcing myself to the book to face their miseries. However, as the story reaches its climax, I almost trip over myself to find out how everything comes together. Thus, by the end, I often feel like the story concluded entirely too fast--this is particularly true for stories that end of cliffhangers or just have a short denouement. 

It's at that point that I sometimes need to take a breather before embarking on another imaginative journey.

I received my second dose of the Pfizer vaccine today. The process went smoothly and my arm only just started hurting from the injection site. I have to wait two weeks for potency (now I have Princess Bride line going through my head). Although I did not take one, they did have chocolates there to help the process “go down easier.”

Upon getting home, I enlisted Connor’s help to dig out the rest of the access pipes to our septic system. In person, the depth of snow seems much more impressive than the pictures show. In fact, I felt like I was recreating the Rebels’ trench defenses on Hoth as I was going. Two pipes remain unclaimed. Connor’s attire suggests that he was not as concerned about the 20 degree temperatures as I was.

I need to go to bed. I feel absolutely wiped out. It doesn’t help that, according to my Fitbit, I’m an hour under my normal average for nightly sleep. At least I can sleep in tomorrow.

Well … I thought that we had our septic sorted out after we had the entire system replaced this summer. Foolishly, I did not keep the access pipes to the tanks dug out from the massive amount of snow that we have received. I had thought to myself that I did not need to do that this year since we had a new septic system put in. As a student and instructor of literature, I should know that such hubris is always punished. Worse, we even piled snow on top of those access points as we were clearing our driveway.

Thus, when our septic started to back up into the laundry room today, I found myself outside, digging through seven to eight foot piles of snow (with a compacted, icy, upper layer) in the desperate hope of finding the pipes. I used pictures on my phone that I took of the yard after the septic replacement as a guideline and then started digging my way through the snow in the approximate areas where I thought that the pipes might be. I felt like I was following a bizarre treasure map. Thankfully, Connor also came out to help. He approached from one direction, and I from another.

The natural snow depth--which I discovered by sinking into it--went past my waist. The icy, packed mounds were above my head. In fact, Connor was standing on the pile, with his feet above my head, for a little bit just to drive that point home. 

Miraculously, I found the two pipes that I was searching for before the sun completely set. Unfortunately, they confirmed my fear that my tank is full, meaning that my new leach field is not working out as well as I had hoped. I still need to find the pipe to the leach field to see where the water level is there, but we will need our tank pumped one way or the other.

Now, I just need to shovel out a path so that the septic pump guys can get to the cleanout.