How to Be a Plants vs Zombies Champion

~A post from Auggie~
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Hi, everybody. I had a good summer. I want to tell you about this one game, Garden Warfare.

I just bought the new Plants vs Zombies video game with my own money. My wallet is empty now but I wanted this game and I counted down the days till it was at the store. I waited days since I found out.

There are different classes of characters in this game. There are 8 main different character classes. 4 for each side of a Plant or a Zombie. In each of the 8 different classes there's 6 other things you can be of those guys, which is cool.

It's good for if you don't want your kids to play bad games, violent games like Modern Warfare because this is like kind of comical and not all about shooting. And it's zombies. And it's goofy.

So then you can buy this for your kids if they want a third person shooter. That means you can shoot and see around your guys. You can see yourself. Instead of your arms being the one to do it someone else does it. My mom calls it quote quote "Detached shooting."

This game builds team work b/c you have to work together to achieve the goal. The team the plants try to stop the zombies. There are different game modes which means ways to play the game, like there's one that works like capture the flag, then there's other ones where you like proceed through checkpoints.

 

One plus it doesn't say kill or death it says "Vanquish." My mom likes that part too, no one quote quote "Dies" my mom says "I don't want you to do a game where you make people die."

Oh, its' 3:14 3.14 PI!

Okay, back to Plants vs Zombies. Remember I said there's different modes? There's Team Vanquish mode and it has the word team right in it. You try to vanquish 50 of the other team.

And then there's Gardens and Graveyards mode which is kind of hard to explain but basically the plants have like 6 gardens. And then the zombies try to take them over one by one. And then at the end, on the last garden there's a big objective you have to do. Like, plant bombs or destroy the megaflower or get zombies into the mansion. You want zombies in the mansion if you're a zombie.

The main point of the game is there is no one story mode. It's multiplayer the humans get the plants to protect them from the zombies eating their brains.

How do you win? For mode Team Vanquish you have to get 50 vanquishes of the other team.

In Gardens and Graveyards, it's different for who wins depending on the side you're on. Plants or Zombies. There are different ways to win depending on who you are.

For the Zombies: you do this: You try to capture all the plants gardens.

 

For the plants: you do this: You try to stop the zombies from capturing the gardens. You only win by points.

 

If you worry about violence, NO ONE eats humans or brains. There are no humans in the game, if the moms want to know that.

I like it because I play the original plants vs zombies game and I was excited when I heard when it was coming as a third person shooter. There's also secret jokes, and funny surprise things like graffiti saying "PLANTZ R STOOPID".

For the plants there is the Chomper, the Sunflower, the Pea shooter, and the Cactus character.

 

For the Zombies, there is the Engineer, the All-star, the Scientist, and the Foot Soldier.

 

My favorite for each one: the Chomper is Count Chompula who gets health every time he eats a guy. Health is how much you have before you get dead. And the sunflower is the sun pharaoh. Who shoots like a triple shot.

The Pea Shooter, is the law pea. It's like a sheriff wild west guy who shoots like six shots of peas like the vegetable that do a lot of damage. The Cactus is the future cactus who can charge his shots, like charge it up.

My favorite zombies: for the Foot Soldier the tank commander. The scientist Dr. Chester. The Engineer, the Electrician. And for the All-Star, the Hockey Star.

You have to be age 10 and up to play. Girls and boys will both like it.

My favorite thing is how you can customize your guys with mustaches and hats to make them really cool.

The graphics are so good and I like how it's sunny and not dark graphics.

 

Also, this game is not very hard to learn. It is a great gift for a kid.

Thank you. Bye.

 

Here is my best tip: Every character has different playing styles, so find the one that is right for you. Try to find the guy that is just for you.

 

from Auggie

 

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Anyone Can Blog: BlogHer14 10x10

If you've been curious, wondering about why I started blogging, and why blogging is one of the most important things I've ever done in my life, then you'll like this. It's the Q & A you never knew you wanted.

Thank you, to the wonderful people that have come into my life because of Good Day Regular People. There is no way that I can give words to how you have helped to make my life happier. All I can say, is I appreciate your words, your time, and your friendship, so much.

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What Racism Does to the Young

There are things that are painful to know about myself. Reminders of who I once was flash in my mind.

The shooting of Michael Brown and our reactions to Ferguson have brought my life to the forefront.

Some say that the goal for a society is to be color blind. I love the different colors that we are and the gift of cultural difference that we bring into each others' lives. I don't want to not see your brown, yellow, bronze, beige, coffee, and all the tones in between.

When I read of this abomination of hate toward people because of the color they are, it takes me back to when I was a child. I don't like remembering myself at that time. When I would let people say things to me and allow them to ask me questions that were personal and rude, and how I said nothing. By not saying no, I was letting them do the very thing that we are allowing people to do now. To dismiss those that are not white.

This week, I am broken, unable to do much more than think of times in my life of when I was silent. I was seven years old when my school began serving tacos for lunch. The kids would throw them on my tray, laughing, “You must love today! It's your kind of food!” I would say nothing, my face burning red that I could feel the sweat prickle on my scalp. But I never spoke on my behalf and that of others. I was learning that to not be like them, was deserving of ridicule.

I am different. I am less than.

When my high school boyfriend's parents told him he couldn't date me anymore because his father's advice, “Stick to your own kind, Chris,” was more of a command.

I am something less than what a parent wanted for their child.
 

Driving with my brothers when we were teenagers, we were used to being pulled over for no reason. I would want to ask what we did wrong, not understanding yet that what we did wrong was ride 3 and 4-deep.

I am powerless at the hand of the law.

I remember these stories, and I am ashamed of my silence. A lifetime of being treated as lesser, and accepting it.

By not saying anything, I was saying it was acceptable.

I have learned to be complacent, invisible. Even to myself.

Racism over a lifetime will do that to the young.

It makes you question yourself, because you're told You're too sensitive. We were just kidding. You imagined it. Stop making a big deal.

I had been taught to not even be right about my own feelings.

But with Ferguson and the ensuing dialogue I'm seeing the truth. Stories aligning with mine, like being teased about my name growing up. About clerks at stores asking me for an I.D. when I use a credit card after I've just seen three white women in front of me use theirs without being asked for the same thing. When I would go to a walk-in clinic, and the receptionist handed me a card for a Spanish interpreter assuming I didn't speak English.

The racial injustice in our country is not a delusion of people of color. Neither is prejudice and bigotry. Talking about race in our country right now is the most highly charged I've seen this nation in years. We are finding courage and validation in the sharing of our stories. This year has become the defining year for many of us, the line is drawn, on what we will and won't take any longer in how we are treated and spoken to.

These times are ugly, and they are beautiful. I see the grand actions of ours, of coming together, and I feel how it all begins with a decision.

For too long, I learned to feel ashamed of who I was because I was desperate to be accepted by the world I lived in.

It's not happening any more. I'm no longer the scared, sad, seven-year-old girl, that racism taught me to be. And today, I speak for her. The one who wanted nothing more that to find love and acceptance from those around her.

One of the worst things about racism is what it does to young people.

~Alvin Ailey

 

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The Juice on Juice Fasts

Because I'm a blogger, I get a lot of product offers. Boxes come to my house with salad dressing, small journalling notebooks, foot scrubs, environmentally friendly detergent, and this month, juices for a juice cleanse. The products I get aren't for sponsored posts, they're just samples, so the amounts are small, just enough for trying.

I was excited about the juice cleanse. I had just joked on twitter that for my shorts to fit this summer I either had to 1.) lose ten pounds in two hours or 2.) rent a medieval torture rack for my clothes. I had heard of juice cleanses – you either love them and post fifty pictures on FB of your new beautiful juiced body, or you hate them, and post one hundred updates on FB about how much you hate juice cleanses and the horse they rode in on.

The juice cleanse package promised to detoxify my body (can anything detoxify a gummy bear loving woman?) and clear my liver, colon, and intestinal track of its many toxins. In the juicing process, I would lose 3-7 pounds during the fast.

I'll be honest with myself and you, I could lose a few pounds. And break a few bad habits. And lose some toxins. I couldn't wait to cleanse with juice! There was nothing to lose except the bread dough disguising as my stomach. At this point, the juice company's promises sounded so promising I didn't care if I hated the juice fast or not. How hard could it be? I crossed my fingers and opened the box. The letter inside said that if I stuck to the juice fast for a total of fourteen days, I could lose ten pounds.

Since I'm a worrier it's no surprise that I first had to google “risks of juice fasts” because I didn't want to be headlining our small town newspaper with “Mom of Three DEAD from Juice Fast Fad.” Not the way I want to go. I'd rather die choking on a Lindt 100 percent dark chocolate bar – at least that way everyone could say that I died doing what I loved, eating chocolate.

Based on my quick internet research, juice cleanses are pretty much the same – made up of cold pressed vegetables and fruits, some with added fiber from grasses. The kit I received contained nine bottles, 8 fluid ounces each at only 100 calories a bottle. What I saw at first glance was less than appealing, but the ingredient list was impressive. Kale, spinach, clover sprouts, wheat grass, parsley, romaine, celery, and cucumber with a squirt of lemon. I like vegetables. I could do this.

I unpacked the white plastic bottles, but I couldn't help thinking that the contents looked like skimmed algae from the pond at the park here. I had heard how juice cleanses made you feel energized and gave you a radiant complexion -- who's not ready for that -- but could I get it down? I could barely look at how the film clung to the container.

You're supposed to complete the juice fast in three days, with a total of nine bottles required. There is a preparatory routine you follow to get your “insides” ready for the juice fast. The day before, you eat light. You stick to baked fish or poached chicken. I did just that and then I lined up the bottles of liquefied vegetables in the refrigerator so they'd be chilled, the package suggested cold for peak enjoyment. I'm all for enjoying my experiences.

When the alarm went off at 6:00 a.m. Monday, I popped open my eyes and was ready to start. I was to have one juice in place of a meal, three times in one day, and no caffeine, cigarettes, or alcohol. Still in my pajamas, I went to the refrigerator and unscrewed the first bottle of the day and took a sip. It was thick, sledgey, and I had to either sip all day long, or get it down in as few gulps as possible. I got it over with and slammed it down. Despite its thickness, it was good, with a sweet aftertaste. I'd try to sip the lunch one and make it last.

The 8 ounce bottle kept me full until 8:30 a.m. That's when I wanted a doughnut. But I stuck to the program because I wanted that ten pounds in 14 days promise. This was hard, because there was no new sense of renewed energy. When I looked in the mirror, there was no radiant complexion, either. I just saw a woman that wanted a bavarian cream filled doughnut. The hours crawled by, and all I had to look forward to was another 8 ounces of pond sledge at noon.

12:00 came, I fished the second bottle of liquid silt out of the refrigerator, and was so hungry or thirsty or just without calories that I drank it in one fell swoop. This time, my hunger pangs were back by 2:00. I looked outside my kitchen window and the trees looked like big fat crunchy pretzel rods. The leaves looked like broccoli flowerettes just awaiting cheez whiz.

You know what it's easy to learn? That a juice fast is not the time to log on to Pinterest for mealtime ideas.

At 3:00 I listened to my children crunching juicy apples and munching kettle cooked extra thick potato chips in the kitchen. I was strong and walked out, leaving them to their food party. I'd be okay, after all, it was almost 5:00 and time for another yummy pureed salad. At 4:59 p.m., I opened the last bottle of the day and drank it, fast. Again, a good tasting drink, no matter how ugly the consistency. I made dinner for my family and the smell of pork chops, broasted potatoes and sliced peaches was killing me. But I was determined. I sat at the table and was fed on good conversation and warm family love. HA! I was starving. My youngest heard my stomach growling and said, “Mom?! Was that you?? You need to eat really bad!” I lied and told him I was fine, fine, oh hohohoho Mama is so fine. And starting to feel delirious.

Truthfully, the last time I was this hungry was two weeks before my wedding when I stopped eating to fit into my princess cut wedding dress. My stomach growled again, my son asked me if I was okay since my stomach was “making really, really loud noises, mom.”

I usually stay up until midnight or later working on the computer, and I'll mindlessly have a bag of chips or a snackpack of the kids lunch stashes. I had the energy that night to go the full mile, but I put myself to bed early to end my hunger misery. I lay my head on my pillow and prayed that sleep would overtake me and help me survive these hours of hunger.

I awoke at 5:30 a.m. and started the routine again. Three juices, three times that day. I felt energetic but I think it was a manic phase facilitated by low blood sugar. Day #2 was over none too soon for me and I went to bed at 8:30 p.m., again with prayers to anyone above to hit me hard with a deep sleep stick. I dreamed of Easter hams, mashed potatoes, and watermelon balls.

Day #3, I slammed three juices throughout the day. I did not look good in the mirror. I looked sallow and really, you've heard the expression, your face or your ass? I think I need my face more. I was looking like Yzma from Emperor's New Groove. You could cut paper with my cheekbones.

I made it, though. Three days of nothing but three bottles of juice. Overall, I wish I could do the juice cleanse all the time, every once in awhile. It works because you starve yourself. With its clear restrictions of no food allowed, you of course lose weight. I did go to bed hungry, and that might be a good thing to do once a week. I didn't experience the energy high promised and I never saw the radiant flush of detoxification, but less handfuls of gummy bears throughout my day must count for something.

What I learned from my mini juice cleanse is that I can live without my sugar and late night boredom snacking, and that going to bed hungry one night a week won't kill me. I liked the taste of the juices, I can see maybe having one a day for breakfast.

Just as long as there isn't a special on cream filled doughnuts at the store that day.

*This was not a sponsored post since no product was named and no one gave me any money to starve myself. I didn't even lose weight, either. I just got dizzy and heard a high pitched squeal starting on Day #2.

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Reasons Why "Reach Out" is Not As Easy As It Sounds

By now, everyone has heard of Robin Williams' passing. It's been sad news, heartbreaking for all of us. Robin Williams was a man who was universally loved. He made us feel like giggly third graders with his wild stream of consciousness and his obvious joy at making us laugh. He was our friend.

We felt free, happy, and without a thought to anything else when we watched Robin Williams. That he lived a lifetime with depression was no secret. Neither was his history with substance abuse. We knew that the combination of both in an addictive personality was a perpetual walk on a tightrope. But yet, when we learned that he had died, we clutched our chests.

Not our Robin Williams. Not Mrs. Doubtfire, Aladdin's Genie, O Captain My Captain!

No.

Within minutes of learning that the cause of death was suspected suicide, there were social media postings questioning why depressed people don't reach out. Why didn't he reach out. Why don't people who are suicidal reach out? Just reach out.

Necessary advice, without a doubt. But there are reasons why reaching out is not just that. Talking to a friend, making a call for help. What stops people?

Much. Much stops people.

What could possibly stop someone from seeking help for something as important as life? How about-

fear of judgment
loss of face
shame
vulnerability
isolation
overwhelmed
confused
fatigue
embarrassment
lack of finances, resources, health care
loss of relationship
possible turning of information against you to take away your children or losing your job

A lot is at stake. And a lot of ability is presumed. With depression, you're not able to think straight. You're not who you are -- and what you are now is desperate, despondent, confused, and alone. Why not reach out? Because it's mental illness and mental illness is still not seen as body illness, not even in 2014.

Would a friend or someone you're dating drop you over high blood pressure? No. But if you lean in and trust them with something about you, like you're afraid you might act on a dark impulse? Would they hang around?

I remember a morning only a few years ago, when a friend was over. It was during a particularly bad cycle for me and putting on a happy face was depleting me. I couldn't keep on anymore, and so I confided in her about my depression. Her response? "Don't say that. You're not depressed -- you have a great sense of humor. No one's going to like you this way." Depression is messy, and it scares people.

Could you lose custody of your children over glaucoma? Probably not. But in a heated court battle, throw in words like "mental instability" and "suicidal ideation" or any information from medical mental health history, and you'd have a right to worry.

Can an employer fire you or replace you for knee surgery? Almost not. But how favorably will you be looked upon for future and increased responsibility and promotion if you've disclosed a mental health history? I'd put my money on Average Joe being the one to receive work accolades.

If people don't reach out it's because the information they're sharing with someone regarding their mental health can be used against them. Past spouses can bring up a depression history, a friend can turn others against you with whisperings on how you will drain energy from those around you, work may look past you as someone who is unable to handle job stress.

Reaching out takes confiding in a source. And often, that source is unpredictable in their guarding of your information and in their reaction to your news.

Those of us with depression history, in my case -- a lifelong history -- have been burned by the risk of reaching out. To be fair, I've also been fortunate, I have had a good therapist who helped me to see things differently and explained my work, which is that of daily vigilance and guarding my surroundings. But the times that I've been squashed by the reactions of others has made me wary of those I let into my life.

Because of time, quality therapy, and a newfound support system, I've become comfortable with my history. I no longer have the shame I had when I was a teenager and up through my 30s, when I'd look down at the ground when confessing my life with depression. Through therapy, I've learned what causes depression and I work hard, every day, to keep watch on who is in my world, and I take care with who enters my circle.

Why don't people just reach out?

Because of exhaustion.
Because of the feeling of drowning.
Because of the risk.
Because of the shame when you already feel less than others, it's the risk of losing so much, that makes many of us unable to gather the courage to connect outside of ourselves, and that right there, leads to even more isolation and eventual withdrawal.

To reach out is the scariest thing a person with depression will ever do, but it's the one thing we need  most to recover. Why don't people reach out? Because reaching out is hard.

If we reach out to you, it's with a desperate hope for your support. Please don't disappoint us.

"Recovery can take place only within the context of relationships, it cannot occur in isolation." ~ Judith Herman

Need help? In the U.S., call 1-800-273-8255 for the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline.

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