I’m not ready to reengage with the WWII air combat wargame against which I’ve dashed my brains (and my pilots) in intermittent learning sessions throughout winter. On this somnolent winter eve, I switch up the flavors.
Project L solo mode and a new-to-me Colorado stout: Ski In Ski Stout from Telluride Brewing Company
From the first sip and the first turn, I can tell I’ve made the right move: Without Joe across the table beating my ass red, I quickly digest the solo rules for Project L and find a pleasant rhythm of managing the game’s simple automa; drafting and placing puzzles; and a broader, gently forming picture of how to play the game more effectively.
Sometimes you chalk your biggest Ws by learning which games to quit, or at least set down for a while. As I age, I get better at dispelling the imaginary tribunal that lists what happens if You Don’t Stick With It. They’re not here. They never were. Why am I walking this overweight, surly dog? I drop the leash and watch it wander off. It’s not my dog. Fuck it.
When I go downtown to get some stout, I get bat-flights of anxiety, piling up other stops in town even before I’ve parked. It’s Friday night, I should see who’s around and jolt my conversational reflexes. Then I realize I don’t want to do that shit, either.
What I want is to try a new stout. So I skip over the usual Winter Warlock, Guinness and Left Hand. Ski In Ski Stout is new. Let’s do that.
Let’s sip that (it’s delicious and will be on a future Drink of the Week segment). Let’s play this (it’s a perfect ratio of brainpower demanded to pace of play and will be a future Game of the Week segment). Let’s instead ease into the moment: Nothing in the way except what I erected previously, the gelid evening squeezing out a bit more dusk light than weeks previous. The blooming aftertaste of the brew. The fleeting disappointment in a loss to the automa falling to the wildly-within-reach joy of another game.
Then another one. And another. I am candlelit. It is a good, long and slow night.