So Much Fun I Forgot To Blog . . .

Two days of sledding and I’m still not tired of the snow! The sunshine, on the other hand, is getting on my optic nerves; but, when there’s sledding to be had, I laugh at aggravation! Ha! Ow! Where are my shades? Ha!

So, because I had posted Faux Magic, the Gathering cards when it didn’t snow, I thought I should post the ones I created when it did snow. The first night of our snowstorm — that’s what we call 4 to 10 inches in North Carolina — several intrepid Magic players gathered to welcome the newest set of Magic cards. I had hoped to go with my kids, but I’m not that intrepid when it comes to slick roads, bad visibility, and North Carolina drivers (of which I am one).

So, with a little bitterness, but mostly in the spirit of good will, I made up  two faux Magic cards for the players who thought snow tires and sleeping bags would be enough to protect them — which by the way, was quite sufficient for the 20 or so people who showed up at the first two events.

For you Magic players, here are the cards:

Snow Tire 1WU
Enchantment — Aura

Enchant Artifact

Enchanted artifact has protection
from snow and ice.

Enchanted artifact still has no hope of avoiding
a collision with North Carolina drivers.

Skidding out of control on icy roads toward a
solid object is a decidedly unpleasant event.
–Neil Dunlop,

. . . AND . . .

Donner Pass

Donner Pass enters the battlefield hungry.

TAP: Add one random body part to the stew pot.
2WUBRG TAP: Remove your body parts from the game until end of turn.

My kids and I made it to the Sunday event, much to our delight — and, still, there’s no school today. It’s like my birthday and my other birthday all rolled into one! But I digress . . .


Magic Mom Lady Cards No. 2

Here in Chapel Hill, we’re surrounded by people who got enough snow to justify those mugs of hot chocolate and bowls of homemade soup I had prepped for. I was so careful: I noted that it didn’t smell like snow;, I failed to unearth our sleds and shovels from beneath the summer sediment of lawn mower grass catchers and crippled bicycles and bungy cords and such detritus as collects in drifts in on our property; and I even left the extra gallon of milk on the shelf at Harris Teeter. I had done everything I could to insure a sleddable snowfall . . . except . . . I backed out of our family Chanukah party at my 82-year-old mother’s apartment because the weather was getting worse by the minute.

Cue the FAILBUZZER! What was I thinking?!

This morning I was awakened by Tweets and Facebook posts about the snow EVERY-FREAKING-WHERE-BUT-HERE! Here it looks like Mrs. Haversham’s wedding reception with damp birds hopping around drab pimples of nearly transparent snow. Very, very sad.

But it does inspire me to create a new MML Card:

Dashing Through the Hopes
Tribal Sorcery – Curmudgeon
For absolutely no manna AT ALL:
When something doesn’t happen, X target lands that you control only produce colorless manna for X turns where X equals the number of things you did to insure that something did happen.

If you’re willing to play that card, you’re more optimistic than a Disney princess just before the villain’s minions unveil their evil to-do lists.

Stay tuned for Mrs. Havisham’s Wedding Reception . . . Right now, I gotta go play Magic in Durham, where, rumor has it, they actually got enough snow to shovel.

Magic Mom Lady — Warning: Trading Card Jargon Ahead

Age is defined in many ways: you could count the years you’ve lived, you could count the cigarette butts in your ashtray at the end of the day, you could start running as fast as you think you can and see how long it takes you to get where you want to be or how far you can go before you need to stop. Or, if you play Magic, the Gathering, maybe you could drop the Rheumy Crone of Xanx Hollow card:

Rheumy Crone of Xanx Hollow
Artifact Creature
1/1 with joint pain for 2 greens and 1 colorless; tap and kvetch to make target player get you a cup of hot tea and an afghan. On your upkeep put a 1/1 Mangy Cat token onto the battlefield.

If you’re willing to play that card, you’re older than the guy who invented the game, and that’s all you need to know.

Here’s how old I am. I am old enough to wish for a large-print version of this detailed and complex game. I can’t tell you how many times my kids have to say mom, that’s 5 colorless mana, not 3. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve tapped 4 to play my Elvish Piper and put out my Fog instead – that Fog that I was holding to surprise my opponent when he tried to kill my Elvish Piper before I could use her awesome ability.

As if it weren’t sufficient insult that I can’t read the cards well enough to make a poker-face worthwhile, I find out that I’m as stuck-inside-the-box as my parents were back when I was seeing the world through the wide-open eyes of my younger days. For example, when I was just starting out, back in the days of Sorry and Monopoly and Backgammon and black-and-white I Dream of Genie episodes, if you were to destroy target creature so that it can’t be regenerated like you do with Polymorph, you would be inflicting that tribulation upon your enemies. I mean look at the words: destroy, target, and can’t be regenerated. What’s not hostile and offensive about that? Yeah, baby, take that! I destroyed your Wall of Bone and you can’t do anything about it . . . except the second part of Polymorph’s ability, printed, by the way, in type only one size bigger than the warning label on an aspirin bottle: Its controller reveals cards from the top of his or her library until he or she reveals a creature card. The player puts that card onto the battlefield, then shuffles all other cards revealed this way into his or her library. You kill that creature and send it away for eternity, and its controller gets to put another creature onto the battlefield. For free, for crying out loud! Like Ghengis Khan taking his foe by the neck and giving the guy a nice, gentle massage so he’s loosened up for the battle: I wouldn’t want you to cramp up while we’re trying to kill each other, says the blood-drenched terror.

What a stupid, stupid card. Who’s going to pay 4 mana for that? And it’s rare, like anyone wants it enough to make it worth anything . . . And  . . .  AND . . . and I think I pulled muscle when I figured out that the target creature you want to be destroying is your own little 1/1 saproling token or, better yet, that creature you bewitched away from your opponent with Slave of Bolas or that creature that is about to die under the crushing blow of a Kalonian Behemoth. Yeah, put that on your stack and watch me pull some kind of bear or centaur or, if the fates are with me, my freaking Godsire! (Not that I’ve actually ever seen a Godsire, but you get my point.)

With all that on the stack, though, part of the reason I like playing is magic is that even though I’m a 49-year-old mother of three sons, I guess, I’m also an 11-year-old tomboy, at heart. And Magic appeals to that incessantly younger part of me in ways that nothing else does. However, once in a while, the very game that Time-Sieves me back to my purest self is also the game that smacks me in the face with a tattered shawl and a flurry of bi-focals.

At the beginning of my end step, though, I’ll figure out how to exploit the shawl and the bifocals and all the other reminders of my age just like I finally figured out how to exploit Polymorph. I just hope that’s before my kids take away my driver’s license.