Grandma's Army

Grandma, here is the first model I painted from your army. Its not the best one I did but the quality is about a 7 compared to the other one. I think its ok considering the time they take to paint but I know you are a bit more critical.

The new white dwarf hobby magazine is supposed to be all new, all improved but I haven't bought them  ever I think so for me it will not be a noticeable dip in my monthly income (ahem). The forge world books weighing in at around $113 US is something else entirely. As I've found my way to my painting table again I feel that there may never be a chance for me to fully enter this hobby until I'm well into the second half of my life's parabolic trajectory. I'll be sliding down the golden rainbow into retirement and start thinking about splurging on a $255 tank.

I told my life partner already that I think I'm going to move into the scale model side of the the tank decorating world and indeed the Gods are ominously tossing my boat in that direction with the latest GW price hikes in an already tumultuous GW pricing ocean. More posts full of overworked analogies coming soon.

Edit- And another thing! I just realized that after my latest MMORPG purchase of guild wars 2 that something very serious is going on inside of my neuro-chemistry. I'm finding that my brain no longer releases a pleasant rush of dopamines when I begin loading my favorite games of old and more importantly, with guild wars 2 I bought it sight unseen and expected it to be amazing because the world at large was raving about it and I ran into a bitter truth. I'm not like everyone else. Or perhaps I flatter to think of myself as a unique snowflake but no! I'm like one of many who do not enjoy video games as much any more. I've felt the urges waning in me for a long time but I was wondering aloud the other day as my partner and I were walking our 6 chocolate labradors, maybe this is no longer my thing? Just as I began contemplating that unthinkable position I felt the icy fingers of the spectre of age tickling my lower back suggestively. Was this indeed the sweet call of oblivion? was I sliding closer to the funnel end of the vortex and what seems like autonomous choice is only my inability to perceive or receive pleasure on receptors that I burnt out long ago!???!!?!?!?