Words with friends

I was recently introduced to another popular game application (or app as iPhonites and iPodites like to call them) that I can play right on my phone. I’ve always been amazed at everything I can do on my pretty, little black cellular communication device but this is more than even I dared ask of something so small, but so smart. At least the glass LCD display is Mercury-free and arsenic free and all the accessories are PVC-free. This knowledge helps decrease my eternal environmental liability (I hope) as I dive head first into technology heaven.

As I was saying or attempting to suggest, games are a wonderful way to de-stress at the end of a busy day, or begin what will inevitably become a stressful, busy day, or indulge in right in the middle of a busy, stressful day. Honestly my days are not stressful, but I loosely use the word here to campaign for game playing rights for all those who do experience stress on a regular basis. Words with friends could be just the kind of quiet amusement to remedy “having one of those days”. However, you will not be very quiet or find it in any way amusing when your opponent blasts you with a triple letter, triple word score. You have now been forewarned.

Words with Friends has become a great way to wile away the hours that could otherwise be spent composing posts for my blog, finishing my work on book 3 of the Worthy Trilogy and spending oodles (valid word with a min. score of 8) of quality time with loved ones. Partaking of this highly intellectual pastime has quickly moved into addiction territory for me and the last time I felt this way about something was...last night as I lay in bed reading the last 7 chapters of a book I started 3 days ago and put down only for food, showers, reading to my daughter before bed, oh and you know, commuting to and from an actual place of gainful employment and doing the job I was hired to do. I can’t help it. I love to read and consuming a book in one sitting if at all possible is my idea of a good time.

Getting back to “Words with Friends”...It’s basically Scrabble but more interactive as you can play several different games online with several different people. Tile placement rather than fancy words are ultra (valid word with a min. score of 7) important in this game and I’ve discovered a few strategies along the way, revealed to me by the veteran “Words” enthusiasts I’ve been playing with. For example, I learned that using all of my tiles to form longer words decreases my opponent’s ability to make words with the tiles they do have since we share 90 tiles throughout the game and I get an extra 35 points for using all my tiles in one turn. However, there is risk to this tactic if vowels are placed next to premium squares such as DL and TL, setting up my opponent for power placement of an X, Q or Z since these letters naturally come before or after a vowel in many words. The trick is to form words that would result in placing consonants next to premium squares as all vowels, save for the U (2 points) are worth a measly point each.

As you can imagine, a “Words” game can be a particularly lengthy process. I have found myself sitting cross-legged on my bed for hours, trying to trick the app into believing “safter” is an actual word because I have an F tile (4 points)to place and it would be nice if I could drop it in a TL square that is aligned with a TW point advantage. And I consider myself a wordsmith by nature!

My only complaint about “Words” is that it doesn’t let me form words I really want to use. Someone really needs to develop a version of it that incorporates pop culture references. Do you know how many times I could have spelled out “Jedi”, “Vader” and “Zeus”? Why are these proper nouns not even included in this otherwise delightful games’ lexicon? J and Z tiles are worth 10 points, V tiles are worth 5 and placed strategically, could add up to quite a lot of points. If there is such a game out there please let me know as I am the self-proclaimed Trivial Pursuit “Pop Culture Queen”. At least until someone comes along and usurps (a valid word with a minimum score of 11, but could result in as much as 33 points if placed properly) my title, which is the only sure way to get it from me.

Words with Friends...check it out.

The Sex Talk

A friend recently described for me how her 11-year old son told her he had "held hands with a girl" during a movie they watched while out at a summer program activity. She was mildly and understandably anxious about it. My first reaction was one of stunned realization. I smiled, said, "oh oh", but really thought the incident sounded entirely harmless. This is of course because I hadn't had the same conversation with my 10-year old daughter the night before while getting ready for bed like she had experienced with her son. Are we at that point already?

Admittedly, I haven't had an in-depth conversation with my daugther about sex except to point out that boys and girls are different and can make babies with each other. I know, I'm not exactly going to win awards for that one, but it made me think about my thoughts and feelings on the subject of "boys" in relation to me when I was that age.

I am the 3rd child of 4. My brother is 3 years older than me, my baby sister is 8 years younger than me. I have a sister who is a year older than me, but since we were treated like twins and spent most of our childhood practically joined at the hip, our experiences are one and the same. (This background information is essential as you will soon realize.)

At the tender age of 10, I was for all intents and purposes considered a tomboy. I wasn't as rough and tough as some of my more rougher and tougher counterparts (they know who they are), but I was pretty sure at that age that I didn't like a boy enough to touch him or let him touch me. My reluctance for mere physical contact stems from a conversation I had with my brother when I was about 8. My older sister sat next to me on the floor of our bedroom (which also doubled as the very sophisticated "Barbie City"), Malibu Barbie in hand while the baby lay sleeping in her playpen. I guess they changed the name to play yard in the late nineties when it seemed barbaric to keep your young 'uns in "pens". This is how it went:

Big Bro: "Do you talk to the boys?"

Me: "Barely and only during kickball."

Big Bro: "Do they try to talk to you?"

Me: "I don't know. Does screaming at me to 'pitch' better count?"

Big Bro: "It does. It's the first sign that they 'like' you."

Me: "What?"

Big Bro: "Boys always act like they hate you when really they like you."

Me: "That doesn't make any sense. Can we go outside and build a fort now?"

This is when the conversation should have ended as my over the top enthusiasm for the subject was quickly dwindling. I didn't really care enough about boys to give them much thought outside of who would make the best addition to my team so we could win at kickball during recess.

Big Bro: "You know they only want one thing."

Me: "My lunch money?"

Big Bro: "No, silly! They want to get inside your panty."

Me: "What? Why?"

Big Bro: "They want to touch your body and make you red."

Me: "What?"

Beads of sweat begin to emerge on my forehead and I become almost catatonic.

Big Bro: "It's true and a well known fact."

Me: "What happens after I turn red? Do I die of heat burn?"

By this point, I have cotton mouth, I can barely breathe let alone speak and my knees begin to sound like the bamboo poles in a game of Tinikling as they get beat and tapped against each other.

Big Bro: "Close. You burst into flame and then everyone knows it's because you let a boy touch your body."

My mouth is agape, my eyes have begun to tear up ridiculously and I am without words. Not to mention, the eyes of my sister are as big as saucers and the baby is now awake because of all the commotion around her.

Big Bro: "So, now you know. No funny business!"

The thought of a fiery display confirming the naughty things I could have been doing was almost too much to bear. If my brother was trying to scare the living crap out of me, he had succeeded, ad infinitum. I did not touch a boy, or let a boy touch me...until much later down the road after a few health education classes and my first experience at 16 holding a boys hand did not end for us in a heap of ash.

It's true that I was completely traumatized by this story for many years after I heard it and I wouldn't wish the same horror on any child of an impressionable age. However, it did work. Is this the sex talk I'm going to have with my daugther? Yeah, probably!