The fall of the King

This blog has been long overdue for a World of Warcraft entry. This has been somewhat intentional, as I have been waiting until I was part of a group that successfully killed the Lich King. Two weeks ago our 10 man raid killed Lich King, and finally, last night, our 25 man raid killed Lich King.

There will be spoilers in this entry and for the few readers who read my blog, you can skip this one or for the even fewer readers who read this blog and play WoW, you've probably already killed the Lich King, or have read about it on one of the strategy websites.

But for those non-wow players who do decide to read this entry, I will try to make this as entertaining and interesting as possible.

You directly encounter Arthas in the Culling of Stratholme dungeon, where you are transported back in time to protect Arthas from the time keepers who want to destroy the would-be Lich King. However in present time, you can see the effects Arthas left in his wake during his rise as king of the undead in the Plaguelands and Stratholme (Well, Arthas wasn't responsible for the initial downfall of the Plaguelands and the city of Stratholme, but he did charge Kel'Thuzad with the responsibility of keeping the neighborhood chock full of undead things. But Kel'Thuzad appears in Northrend in the Wrath of the Lich King expansion).

Anyways, the continent of Northrend is a cold place filled with beauty, mystery, new allies and foes. The region of Icecrown, however, is a nasty place devoid of life where the Lich King rules over his undead minions. But there are members of the Horde and Alliance races who have set up camp in Icecrown that are dedicated to eradication of the Lich King and his unliving subjects.

Incidentally, the whole Arthas/Lich King thing confused me and still does to a point, but what I've figured out is that the Lich King is comprised of Ner'zhul, a dead shaman but now evil spirit and the physical body of Arthas Menethil. However, I still can't figure out exactly who is speaking and doing all the terrible things...Arthas or Ner'zhul or both?

Silverwolfe, (my druid healer) is in a large group comprised of healers, warriors and magic users intent on killing the Lich King. They storm the Lich King's castle and kill a bone wraith, undead lich, undead orc death knight, 2 flesh beasts, an undead mad scientist experimenting with poisonous gas clouds to eradicate all life in the world, a trio of conceited-even-in-death blood elves, a hungry vampire, an angry undead frost wyrm and rescue a LIVING dragon.

Phew.

After all that killin', Silverwolfe and her friends are teleported up to the throne room where they see Highlord Tirion facing the Lich King on his icy throne. (Be sure to note and remember the human chained above the Lich King's throne. From the screen shot it looks like a black X. This will be important later)



Look at Lich King, he's so smug. You just want to wipe the smirk right off that cold undead-ish face.




After some smack talk, Arthas the Lich King magically seals Tirion in an icy tomb and the battle begins.




The Lich King is a mighty foe, for while he is fighting one of our fearless warriors, he is inflicting diseases, shadow bolts, shockwaves and raising dead undead things on the rest of the group.



When he grows tired of the hand-to-hand combat with our warrior (we've whittled about 30% of his health down at this point), he begins casting Remorseless Winter, a nasty winter storm spell that deals lots of cold damage. He also begins summoning Raging Spirits which are actually aspects of an individual in the group. These suckers throw a mean punch.

Then he shoves his big bad sword Frostmourne (the marshmallow mace has been long replaced) into the ground which creates a huge quake and the edges of the platform fall away. And woe to the hero who is slow in leaving the crumbling edge...

At this point the heroes fall on the King with their swords, daggers, maces, staffs and deadly spells and he gets annoyed. Turns out the Lich King has many a minion up his sleeve. He begins summoning Val'kyr. They look like angels, but don't be fooled by their white visage or those lovely wings. Their soul, oops, sole purpose is to pick heroes up and fling them off the edge into the cold abyss.



The Lich King also casts a nasty spell (Defile) that looks like an oil spill on the ground that spreads when it comes into contact with warm bodies and does a crap load of damage.



So while you're trying to not get picked up by Val'kyr or trying to kill the Val'kyr that is heading toward the edge with a friend you have to try to avoid big nasty puddles of black goo. Thanks Lich King.

But Silverwolfe and her band of hero friend persevered and really pissed the Lich King off. He casts that Remorseless Winter spell again and summons more Enraged Spirits. When the Spirits are forced back into oblivion, we fall again the Lich King, but he's having none of that nonsense. This time his sword gets in on the action. After the Lich King drops a heavy amount of shadow damage on one poor hero, the sword sucks their soul in, where the hero finds the Lich King's father (did I mention that Arthas, the Lich King, killed his own father, Terenas?) and the two battle an evil spirit before the hero is returned outside of the sword.

*Spoiler alert*





Well, the Lich King loses his temper and unleashes the fury of Frostmourne, killing the entire raid. After throwing his hissy fit, he gloats over killing the heroes and relishes the idea of the powerful new members of his undead army (us). He then begins channeling us back to (un)life



Remember poor Tirion, our Highlord entombed in ice? Yeah, we pretty much lost faith and patience with him at this point. But he breaks through the ice and opens a can of whoop ass on the king.



Tirion breaks Frostmourne during the fight, releasing all the spirits held within, including Terenas. The spirit of Terenas resurrects all of the fallen members of the party.



As you can imagine, those spirits that have been contained within the sword Frostmourne have a bit of a grudge against the Lich King. You see all those swirling thingies? Those are the spirits of all the people the Lich King has killed. They are angry. Very angry. They hold Lich King in place, allowing the group to kick that evil king's butt.

After the Lich King is slain, Tirion discovers it is Bolvar Fordragon chained at the top of the throne. Bolvar was believed to be slain during a surprise Scourge attack but he survived and the Lich King took him and tortured him up to the point of the fight. However, he is in sad shape, his body pretty much burned and broken. He tells Tirion that there must be balance between the good and evil forces in the world, and ultimately, there must be a Lich King not only to contain the threat of the Scourge but to keep the Lich King imprisoned. The helm of domination, that ugly hat Arthas was wearing, was by created by demons and bonded to the Ner'zhul the Lich King (this is the simple version of the story. It's a bit complicated) and grants any mortal the powers of the Lich King.

Tirion reluctantly agrees to place the helm on Bolvar, who becomes encased in a tomb of ice to imprison the essence of the Lich King and ensure the helm doesn't fall into the wrong hands.



It's a great victory, but bittersweet in the great sacrifice Bolvar makes for the well being of the world and it's what makes a great epic tale.

A blog entry about nothing.

This blog entry was initially going to be about my eventful but not really exciting week, but somehow it turned out to be an entry about my car that needed a jump.

Monday was the last day of my summer project. I spent the summer studying the birds on 3 different prairies. Each prairie manages their site differently in terms of prescribed burns. One site did not burn their prairie at all, but managed it by mowing every few years. Another site burned their prairie every 3 years and the Ecology Center, for simplicity's sake, burns every other year. My question for my study is whether or not the birds demonstrate a preference for the burn frequency. The methods I used to answer my question involved bird census and mist netting.

So Monday was the last day for mist netting at the Ecology Center. It threatened to rain but we managed to get 2 hours of net time in before the sky did open up and begin to pour. We were planning on going to lunch after we closed nets, but decided on brunch instead since the rain halted our activities. Of course it stopped raining by the time we closed the nets, but by then, the nets were soaked. A wet net tends to bunch in spots, making it easy for the birds to see and avoid.

After packing up we go to our cars and figure out carpooling and the like. I hop into my car and it wouldn't start. Dead as a doornail, would not start. But I did leave the hatchback open for over an hour this morning. There was some issue over whether or not anyone had jumper cables so I suggested we just go to brunch and I could call AA towing before we left the restaurant.

It turns out Stream Girl had jumper cables in her car at the Ecology Center. Thus began the jumper cable adventure. When we returned from brunch I opened the hood of my car while Stream Girl pulled her car up. The terminals on my battery were heavily corroded. After scraping off as much as I could with my key I turned to find Stream Girl reading the directions.

"I haven't done this very many times." I confessed.

"Neither have I." Stream Girl replied, "But the directions are simple enough."

Farm Girl was there for moral support and it turns out I leaned pretty heavily on her emotionally. In the past, I was the spectator and filled the role of support during a jumping event, but this time around I was the active participant and the thought of placing cables with a current running through it (from the other car) on to my end of the car scared the bejeesus out of me. What frightened me the most was placing the negative end of the cable on a metal object on my car. What if the directions were wrong and I got a nasty shock? Farm Girl offered to place the negative end of the cable on some random metal object, but I didn't want HER to get shocked. What kind of friend would I be if I allowed her to take a freak-of-nature shock that was meant for me?

"Where should I put this?" I asked Farm Girl, looking at all the machinery under the hood.

"How about there?" She asked, pointing to one area of the frame of my car.

I peered at it and shook my head. "It's awfully close to that skinny tube." I replied, pointing to what was probably the windshield wiper fluid tube. Maybe?

"Hmm. What about here?" She asked, pointed further up the frame.

The radiator hose closely paralleled the frame, but every where I looked, there was a tube or bolt or some plastic piece that was close to metal.

"Ok." I said, staring at the metal.

I looked at Farm Girl and Stream Girl and said, "I love you girls!" before placing the negative end of the cable on the metal.

The laughter that followed my overly dramatic statement took the edge off my jitters. Intellectually, I knew I wasn't going to get shocked, but what if by some weird chance I DID get shocked? Luckily nothing happened.

I went to start my car and again, nothing happened. Stream Girl commented the directions said that if the car receiving the jump did not start to give it 5 minutes before trying again. So we gave it 5 minutes.

Nothing happened.

Stream Girl suggested we wait another 5 minutes and try again. This time she revved her engine several times. Guess what happened?

Nothing.

Stream Girl suggested I get the car towed to Auto Zone and have the guys there test my battery. If it was really dead, I could buy one and have them install it. I agreed and said I'd call Danno first to see what he thought. Much to my surprise, he said he wanted to come out and try to jump it.

"But we just tried jumping it." I said, "It's as dead as a door nail."

"Just let me look at it." He replied.

I will admit I was a little offended. He didn't trust me to jump start my car? I did tell him there were 3 of us present to provide a form of checks and balances in case one of us misunderstood the directions.

'Fine' I thought sullenly, 'Come on out then. You'll see.'

He came out and looked at my battery terminals and really started cleaning them. He cleaned them until they shone. Hmm, what if he did get the car started? He did go through the same set up as we did in terms of hooking the cables to his car and then to mine although he picked a different spot for the negative cable.

I will confess I experienced a certain amount of satisfaction when the car wouldn't start but I refrained from saying "I told you so".

He tried a different spot on the car, but met with the same results. Nothing.

Then he did the unthinkable. He placed the negative cable on the battery. Great. Now someone was going to get hurt.

"You're not supposed to do that!" I gasped, "That's dangerous!"

"I know, but it may be the only way we get your car started." Danno replied.

The car almost started when I turned the ignition over. On the second try, the car finally started. I don't think I've ever seen a car so unwilling to start. Danno was afraid the alternator would be involved in the problem, but time and many miles driven this week proved it was just the battery.

That proved to be the highlight of my week and well, this blog entry too.

Signs

I took a road trip late last week to see my friend Country Bird in Oklahoma. We met at the Bird Sanctuary in 99 and have been friends ever since. She's a fellow bird nerd and we've had all kinds of (mis)adventures and hijinks during our bird watching excursions. She moved in 2006 but we've managed to see each other at least once a year whether it be through a planned birding trip, a bird banding conference or a short visit.

It's an 8 hour drive from my doorstep to hers and this was my first solo road trip. Yup, you heard right. In all the traveling I've done, I've never taken a road trip alone. Usually I fly and the road trips I have gone on I've been with other people. So I was a little nervous with all the things that could go wrong running through my head.

I passed through a long stretch of tacky tourist trap signs on the highway. The billboards for Meramec Caverns began about 30 miles outside of the city. Advertisements to see the cave of Jesse James hideout and various rooms in the cavern (such as the Ballroom) were ok, not too tacky, but somewhere along the way, Meramec Caverns started sporting billboards advertising their new "caveman zipline", complete with a cartoon cave man swinging across the billboard via the zipline.

Once I passed the Meramec Caverns attraction, the billboards began advertising the Jesse James Wax Museum, the World's Largest Rocking chair, the Vacuum Cleaner Museum, the Candy Factory, the Toy Factory, Ozark Souvenirs (over 25,000 souvenirs!) and the Precious Moments museum. I knew I was within driving range of Branson, probably the mecca of tacky tourist traps when I drove past a large A-frame tin building that was the "Candy Factory" with "BRANSON COUPONS" painted in bold yellow letters across the roof. Soon I was passing billboards for a.m. radio stations devoted to information and COUPONS for Branson attractions. How does a radio station manage to give traveling tourist coupons anyways? They certainly don't print through the car radio and most people don't stay long enough in the same hotel to receive mail. I thought the whole coupon thing was rather strange. And who devotes an entire radio station to nothing but tourist attractions?

The tacky and strange billboards abruptly dropped once I hit the Oklahoma state line. I traveled across the lower half of Missouri and was inundated with these tacky tourist trap billboards the entire way. I traveled through half of Oklahoma and did not come across one sign that was strange or ridiculous.

Someone please tell me Missouri isn't the only state that has advertisements for the obnoxious tourist traps along the highway. As I stated before, this was my first solo road trip. All the other road trips I had conversation with other people in the car to keep me occupied and otherwise too distracted to look at billboards. I'll be embarrassed on behalf of the people like me, who have strong aversions to the tacky tourist traps if I find out that we're the only state that proudly advertises those awful places.

Owwww

About 4 years ago, I experienced an acute case of shoulder pain. I mean, holy crap this shit hurts kind of pain. I couldn't lay on my right side and I could barely lift my right arm above my head. But after a week, the pain began to improve so I didn't go to the doctor and I only told a few people about my shoulder pain. I am ashamed over my lack of action, especially since I'm the one who advises and nags people to go to the doctor when they are sick or need medical attention. But I was afraid of the surgery potential. The event occurred during the summer, right at the height of the mist netting season. I didn't want to be slowed down by surgery and well frankly, I was afraid of surgery.

Since then I have had shoulder pain off and on, but taking advil or alleve for a few days usually cured the problem. Until this past spring. The pain began as an ache and I couldn't lay on my right side. As in the past, I babied my shoulder, tried to stop laying on my right side as best I could (sometimes I would wake up on my right side, or my right arm would be flung over my head) but this time time around non-steroidal inflammatory meds (Alleve, Advil etc) were contraindicated with the medication I was on and I had to rely on Tylenol, which did NOT work.

During all of spring and most of the summer I was still able to participate in all of my usual activities; FitCamp, Yoga, mist netting, hiking and the like but the pain got progressively worse and was occurring on a daily basis causing me to fess up to Exercise Sunshine. I confided in her partly because she was my yoga instructor and it would be difficult to do some of the yoga poses, but mostly because she had become a friend and I knew she would keep after me to see the doctor. And that she did. I think she emailed me or got after me on Facebook on a weekly basis.

So yesterday was my appointment. Danno went with me because I drive a car with manual transmission and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to drive myself home. I was already assuming the doctor would give me the much dreaded cortisone shot. When I finally broke down and told my friends and family how much my shoulder was bothering me, all the horror stories revolving around cortisone shots came to the surface and they reminded me of the women I've known in my life who relate the birthing horror stories they've heard or experienced.

One friend relayed his story like a fisherman

"Chickadee, I swear the needle was this big" he said, indicating the length of the needle with his thumb and middle finger. "And it hurt like a mother&#@%er." (naughty word edited. this is a family blog you know)

My mother-in-law's story was the least frightening. "The needle won't actually hurt that bad, but the medicine will sting for about 5 seconds before the numbing stuff they give you beforehand kicks in."

With the horror stories in mind, I sat in the waiting room and was led to the examination room. I no sooner sat down when an x-ray technician came for me. After 3 x-rays, I made my way back to the exam room. I sat there wondering how big the needle was for a cortisone shot. To my left was a sharps disposal container sitting in a wire basket screwed to the wall. The container was transparent, allowing me a view of all the disposed syringes and needles in the box. There were some long needles in that box, but the needles were not as long as I envisioned. What disturbed me was the diameter of those needles. They weren't the thin needles used for TB tests, nor were they the size you're used to seeing when you get an antibiotic or tetanus shot either.

I tried to read the book I brought with me, but my gaze kept returning to the sharps container. My feelings waffled between impatience at being kept so long waiting for the doctor and anxiety over this whole ordeal. How painful was this going to be?

The orthopedic doctor finally came in and my first impression was that she was a woman suited to the job. She was thin with an athletic build and I could imagine how this field of medicine appealed to her. I could picture her playing golf or tennis.

I was sitting in the chair next to the exam table and asked her if she preferred me on the table to which she replied no and wheeled next to me. She showed me my x-rays and was pleased to report there were no bone spurs or visible tears. She then took my arm and through a series of lifting, rotating, holding and pulling, asked me where the pain was, when it began and the like. I went in to the office with my shoulder mildly aching, but by the time she finished it felt like someone was repeatedly punching it. She told me I had bursitis and proceeded to explain to me on a poster filled with illustrations of shoulders, arms, wrists, elbows what bursitis was and gave me the option of a month of NSAIDs (the aforementioned advil and alleve, which was out of the question because of my medication), a cortisone shot and a series of exercises which I needed to do daily, or, if none of the above worked, physical therapy. Since the NSAID option was out and I was in too much pain at the moment and losing sleep, the shot was the way to go.

She left and promised to return in a moment to give me the shot. But what happened instead was the nurse came in with a bottle of Lidocaine, a pair of sterile gloves and the syringe filled with cortisone. She happily chirped the doctor would be in in just a moment to give me my shot. But in the meantime, you can stare at this syringe. (No, she didn't say that last part. That was in my head)

The doctor returned within 15 minutes and explained she was going to numb my shoulder with the Lidocaine and poke the needle in. It would probably burn for about 5 seconds but the lidocaine would kick in and I wouldn't feel the burn (just like my mother-in-law said). She sprayed the lidocaine on my shoulder and just when the cold feeling on my shoulder turned into a burn, she put the needle in. The injection itself didn't hurt but oh my gawd did it burn. It burned bad, worse than the burn that accompanies a tetanus shot.

"Wow, that does burn" I squeaked, "Ow ow ow ow."

I laughed and tried to concentrate on breathing because when she pulled the needle out, I felt like I was going to pass out. I knew this might happen. I get squeamish when I have procedures done and usually its not until after the procedure is finished that I get into trouble.

She immediately started talking to me about what I needed to do in the weeks following the cortisone shot. I nodded, though I didn't hear much outside of the "Don'tpassoutDon'tpassoutDon'tpassout" mantra I was screaming in my head as she spoke. I could feel the desire to collapse but by sheer force of will I kept it at bay.

She ended with "The nurse will be in to give you that sheet of exercises and you're good to go."

When she left I let out a whoosh and rubbed my forehead. Hurry the hell up nurse so I can get out of here and pass out in the privacy of my car.

In the end I didn't pass out. I felt fine when I left the exam room.

I need to see her again about my knees. They've been giving me trouble the last year. I hope to God I don't need more cortisone shots. I don't know if my will is strong enough to get me through another episode that involves a big fat needle.

Farmer's Market

Mom, Hubby and I went to a Farmer's Market this morning. I love the atmosphere of a Farmer's Market. Local farmers offering their wares in various baskets and crates. People of all ages milling about examining the colorful vegetables adorning the tables and baskets.



I loved looking at the eggplants and all their different shades of purple. There were deep purple eggplants and this light shade of purple



Each tent had a little something different to offer. Rich red tomatoes, dark green leaves of kale and bright yellow squash. Some stalls sold flowers, soaps, fruit, homemade jams and jellies.





Next week Mom and I are going to hit a different Farmer's Market. I'm looking forward to next week's bounties!

Little Feathers of Sunshine

The American Goldfinches have begun to flock in the prairie at the Ecology Center. Two weeks ago we caught 30 golfinches in the mist nets. Yesterday I watched a few of the birds flutter around the tops of dried flowers, foraging for seed.



The Goldfinches nest later than other songbirds, sometimes as early as mid-June but breeding usually commences in July and August.. The finches time their nesting around the maturation of thistle plants and other wildflowers that bloom in mid-summer (such as the echinacea sp).

Male Goldfinches do not defend established territories, rather they defend their mate, especially while she is incubating or brooding chicks. The male also almost exclusively feeds the young while they are in the nest and will often form flocks and fly miles away from their nesting sites to forage for food.



I look forward to the mid-summer addition of the Goldfinches. They add a nice splash of vibrant color to the prairie and it is wonderful to hear their sweet song. I'll be keeping my eyes open for more photo opportunities and keep you posted on their activity.

Backyard Enemy

When I declared war on the weeds in the backyard a few years ago, I made a few enemies: Honeysuckle, Winter Creeper and Roses of Sharon to name a few, but none have proved to be as powerful an enemy as Poison Ivy. Sure, their numbers are few, but they have the big guns in their arsenal, Urushiol resin. This is the stuff that causes contact dermatitis (in layman’s terms, the God awful rash and itch that never seems to disappear).

Urishiol is indeed a potent weapon. Just one nanogram (or one billionth of a gram) causes a rash and the oil can be active on any surface, including a dead poison ivy plant, for a period of up to 5 years.

I’m convinced that I break into a rash as soon as I see a poison ivy plant. Back in the summer of 2001, when I was out doing bird work in the woodlands, I developed a rash from poison ivy exposure seven times. Since then, I’ve been pretty good about keeping an eye out for the poison ivy plants but I’ve developed contact dermatitis 3 times since I began the war against the weeds in April. The first two cases were very minor; a smattering of a rash up one arm and the around my wrist, but the third episode was a big one and I knew EXACTLY when I was exposed.

I was on the battlefront yanking honeysuckle a few other unidentifiable weeds when I pulled a poison ivy plant hidden amongst the foliage. I was ambushed and subsequently unprepared for the long vine that trailed behind the dreaded leaves of 3. I let out an anguished howl as the vine brushed across my bare legs. I glared at the enemy in my gloved hand but smiled grimly. I may have been ambushed but I knew how to neutralize the enemy…or, at least I thought I did.

I made 2 huge mistakes that day. The first mistake was wearing shorts while weeding. The second mistake was…well, read on.

Knowing the clock was ticking (you have anywhere from 30 minutes to a few hours to rinse off the resin before it sets in), I quickly bagged the remaining weeds and put the clippers away. I knew cold water was the antidote to the Urishiol resin and I knew my legs were hit but I didn’t know the extent of the damage. I was hot and sweaty from the war efforts so I decided to take a shower. That way, not only would I be rinsing off the sweat and grime, but the resin as well.

I slept worry-free that night, thinking I had successfully neutralized the enemy…until I woke the next morning to find my legs covered in that all-too-familiar rash. Nooo! What happened? I was so confident in my plan that I even skipped the Tecnu application. Well Ladies and Gentleman, what I did NOT know was that warm water will open your pores and let the Urishiol soak in. I simply made the situation worse. Further reading informed me that repeated rinsing with cold water is the best treatment for poison ivy exposure. The rash lasted for nearly a month and the faded remnants from the encounter with the enemy still remain on my legs.

Not long after exposure to that poison ivy fine, I came across this giant.

(Reconnaissance photo taken with my BlackBerry phone)

That’s the biggest poison ivy plant I’ve seen to date on the battlefront. I do believe long sleeves in addition to the pants and gloves are going to be needed.

The intense heat and humidity has suspended the backyard battle but when the weed pulling resumes, that plant will be the first to go.

Sometimes during the evening, I’ll go outside and look at that poison ivy plant, assessing the dangers and plotting my course of action. The wall of protective weeds will need to be removed first and I may have to attack from behind. I’m also convinced that that plant is measuring me as well, devising a way to slip in between the armor of a sleeve and glove, perhaps even springing up to brush a cheek or a bit of hair before going into the yard waste bin.

I know that plant isn’t going to go down without a fight. Let’s hope I can keep the personal damage to a minimum.