Revolutionizing time

A lot more would get accomplished around our house if there were several 10 p.m.-2 a.m. time slots in the day. This time is when, fueled by the knowledge that something absolutely cannot be put off any longer, we suddenly discover, deep within ourselves, that we will be in serious trouble if we don't get moving on something. This revelation gives us the motivation to accomplish in just a few hours what we have not been able to accomplish in the past several months. Taxes are due—in 20 minutes! The discount on plane tickets expires in—11.3 minutes! Guests will be here in 10 hours, expecting to be fed—because we told them they would be!

At 6 p.m. on a weeknight, or 1 p.m. on a Saturday, a week away from these looming deadlines—even a couple of days before—we are not thinking about such tasks any more than we are thinking about packing to go to the moon. Probably less, because a trip to the moon would be pretty cool.

No, these times lack that sense of urgency that is so critical to a healthy feeling of panic and impending doom.

And if we started too far ahead of time, then what? Submit our tax return months ahead of the deadline? It would only encourage the IRS to expecting our money early every year. Live in a super-clean and clutter-free house for a whole week before our guests arrive? Pffff. It'd be a short, slippery slope from there to monastery living, wouldn't it.

And so it was that the Late Late Hours on Easter Eve inspired us to a) set a table that even Martha* would be proud of and b) create a set of thought-provoking questions** to inspire deep conversation among our guests. We shudder to think what might have awaited our guests the next afternoon had we not had that 10-2 panic-stricken block of time.

And just think what we might accomplish if we could do away with afternoon hours as we know them—what else are they good for other than trying not to fall asleep?—and replacing them with the oh-so-motivating-and-productive 10 p.m. to 2 a.m. block.

If any candidate wants to run on that platform, he or she will have my vote.

________

*My Aunt Martha, that is

**Or perhaps just “provoking questions”

Best of times, worst of times

It has probably not been apparent these past several years of blog postings, but the Hero and Princess appreciate simple moments. As in, they are easily amused. One indication of this is that they often pick up phrases they hear, and for several weeks they might use one to such an extent as to catapult it to The New York Times List of Most-Used Phrases, were there such a thing.

Our current obsession comes courtesy of the very clever author of a children's chapter book titled The Tale of Two Guinea Pigs. It follows the antics and tribulations of two guinea pigs named Teddy and Pip as they cope with the absence of their owner, Amelia, and the person who is—according to the pigs—so woefully taking care of them in her stead.

(Here we should disclose that our sole knowledge of this book comes from a few tidbits hurled our way by relatives familiar with the book. Any misrepresentation of the book or its characters, therefore, while unintended, is quite possible but NOT our fault.)

The pigs’ approval of their substitute caretaker appears to hinge mainly on whether she a) allows them to do what they wish and b) gives them yummy food that is EXACTLY what their real caretaker usually gives them. Their disapproval stems from the substitute caretaker performing c) none of the above.

When things are going their way, they do not say, “Things are good!” Rather, they chorus, “IT IS BEST OF TIMES!”

And when things are not so rosy, they do not say, “Things are not so rosy.” They gather up their furry selves and capitalize their disgruntlement with all their might: “IT IS WORST OF TIMES!”

You can see where this is going. The Hero and Princess, charmed by these fictional guinea pigs—she by the adorableness of anthropomorphism and capitalized speech, and he by the shedding of unnecessary words—have adopted these phrases and look for every possible excuse to use them:

When they manage to hang on to the video game football flag and amble over the goal line without an interception: “BEST OF TIMES!”

When the Hero is caught in the crosshairs of the Princess’s hair spray: “WORST OF TIMES!”

When the Princess finds herself .07 miles from home and totally out of beverages in the car: “WORST OF TIMES!"

When they hit snooze for the 37th time and roll over yet again: “BEST OF TIMES!”

IF they are awake enough.

So thank you, Teddy and Pip. Once the charm of these phrases wear off, we might just have to read the rest of your book to find more. We're sure it will be BEST OF TIMES!

A short note of thanks

The Princess intended a more extensive post this week, but has been sidetracked by Easter menu planning. She has time only to share a short note of thanks to the iPhone auto-correct feature, which during the course of recording her grocery list informed her that she and her guests will be having a keg of lamb for Easter dinner. 

Our video game vision

It may seem as if all the Princess and Hero have been doing lately is playing video games, but this is NOT true. They have also been thinking of making video games. And earning lots of money from them. And retiring early to Hawaii where they can snorkel and paddle board every day if they want, and maybe after several years learn to stand up on a paddle board for more than three seconds at a time.

At least, this is what the Hero has been thinking. The Princess mostly ponders, How can I strangle the creator of Does Not Commute and get away with it?

Our latest idea for a video game grew out of an integral part of our (mostly my) life: beverages. I am the Pied Piper of beverages: I may go forth out of the house with one, and come home bearing several dozen more, all in various states of consumption. As if I might, while completing my errands around a town I know quite well, get very, very lost, and drive very, very far into a forsaken desert land where liquids have never been heard of, and wither away, parched, before a drop of bottled water can be air-dropped to me.

Thus I am never, ever without several somethings to drink nearby. (Car makers, you can never put too many cupholders in your vehicles. Please remember this.)

So as the Hero and I envision it, the goal of our proposed video game would be to complete one’s daily errands while collecting the highest possible number of beverages in one’s vehicle (or perhaps a grocery cart--there could be different versions). Going to Target? Make sure to stop by the in-store coffee shop and pick up a latte, or (even better, AND) get a slushie.

There would be opportunities to collect bonuses, one of which would be earning more cupholders so you can buy even more drinks.

Players would also win points if, at the end their errands, they completely cleaned out the car of beverages. Conversely, they would face severe penalties for leaving beverages behind in a vehicle. Like, maybe swarms of ants come and drink the beverages and attract a bunch of giant anteaters, who eat the ants, all the cupholders, and the car. Or maybe the penalty is that the driver gets transported into the Does Not Commute game and is forced to fall off a bridge at 95 miles an hour, over and over again. (Not that this has EVER happened to the Princess.)

So that is the vision. We realize that our retirement to Hawaii as a result of creating and selling video games might not be imminent. But if we do get there, we’ll arrive with plenty of beverages.

Commuter games

The Hero may not have video games invading his dreams, as the Princess has experienced recently, but it turns out that he is not immune to their influence. On his first day driving to work after a snowstorm some weeks ago, he termed the drive Does Not Commute, after one of our favorite* games.

In this game, you, as the driver, are given a script that might say, for example, “Mrs. Jones is late for work again, and she has a big presentation at nine.” You, Mrs. Jones, are expected to navigate your way to work in the time allotted and in one piece. This is fairly easy in the beginning. As you progress to new scripts and more challenging drives, however, your former selves—such as Mrs. Jones—are also on the road, often right where your present self also happens to be, or wants to be, and, well, you can see the difficulty.

In addition, your speed is determined entirely by the type of vehicle you happen to be in at the moment. Driving a lumbering ice cream truck? No problem navigating turns. Driving a speeding motorcycle? Good luck making a 90-degree turn successfully. Or any turn.

The game provides helpful arrows showing you possible routes to reach your destination, some of which require great leaps over bodies of water and, in our judgment, great leaps of stupidity. We have, accidentally, leaped off bridges over roads. Sometimes we've even landed back on the road. This is all accidental, as is arriving at your destination in a timely manner.

So when the Hero drove to work after the snowstorm, he had his own script to follow. It went something like this.

Okay, bridge coming up...icy patches like to hide there. There’s one! Avert! Good job.

A car’s coming straight at you! Swerve, swerve! Get into another lane!

Uh oh, your lane is disappearing into a snowbank. Find another one!

Hey, you need to refuel. Uh, oh, the lines are too long. No time to wait; gotta keep going and wait for another one.

Look out for the snowplow!

Okay, you're almost there...one last turn into the parking garage...oh, no, the gate’s down! Abort turn! Keep going!

Bus bearing down!

Stray kitten in the road!

Slush on the windshield!

Almost out of gas! Park NOW!

No, not on the sidewalk! See the tree? Sidewalk. Get off.

Screech. Sure, this counts as parking! Who cares if you're facing the wrong way and are sticking out a bit. Okay, a lot. Better fix that.

Almost to work! Just walk 38 blocks to the building! Good luck! And remember to watch out for buses…!

On second thought, maybe making great leaps over large bodies of water is a piece of cake.

________

*Favorite in the same way you might have a certain tooth you like to get pulled over and over again.