Showing posts with label entertainment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label entertainment. Show all posts

Friday, January 17, 2025

Thrift Week 2025: Champagne tastes on a beer budget

One of the biggest challenges of writing about frugality is that so many people associate the word with phrases like "tightening your belt" or "doing without." In other words, deprivation. Even people who are trying to promote a frugal lifestyle sometimes fall into this trap. Scroll through the underconsumption core videos on TikTok (quickly, before the ban goes into effect), and you'll see people showing off their broken phone cases or trash-picked dishware, provoking cries of outrage in the comment section. This kind of content may play well with folks who are already fully on board with the idea, but it doesn't make a frugal lifestyle look appealing to those who enjoy their little luxuries and don't want to give them up.

That's why I've decided to make this year's Thrift Week all about ways to live the life of a rich person on a modest budget. Each day, I'll look at one particular category of luxury spending, then explore ways to enjoy the same kind of luxury while spending much less. And I'll put my money where my mouth is by treating myself to one of the cheap luxuries on my list each day—giving myself a whole week's worth of birthday presents in the process.

One thing that rich people definitely spend money on is entertainment. The latest Consumer Expenditures Survey shows that as folks move up the income scale, they spend larger sums on entertainment—not just in dollar terms, but as a percentage of their total spending. That makes sense, since it's a non-essential expense that folks on tight budgets would be likely to cut back on. And lots of really high-end entertainment experiences, like tickets to the Super Bowl or a Taylor Swift concert, cost thousands of dollars—an expense only the well-to-do can afford to shoulder on a regular basis.

Now, according to happiness economists, this is a sound decision. Their studies show that spending a given amount of money on an experience generally produces more happiness than spending a comparable sum on material goods. Which is all well and good, but I haven't seen any studies that suggest that the more you spend on a specific experience, the more you enjoy it. Yes, a Swiftie will probably get more happiness out of paying $4,000 to go see Taylor with her mom than she would out of spending the same sum on a diamond necklace. But will she get four hundred times as much happiness out of buying those tickets as she would from paying $10 for a one-month Disney+ subscription and having a watch party with her friends? 

Based on our experience going to our first big stadium show, I kind of doubt it. We spent a total of $241 on that show, including transportation and food, and still found it to be, at best, only marginally more enjoyable than watching at home for free. Granted, we could have paid a lot more than that, and maybe if we'd shelled out $500 for VIP tickets and another $200 for parking and concessions we would have enjoyed the show more. But then again, maybe not. A lot of the things that made the show frustrating—the venue's bag policy, the long lines, the late drive home—wouldn't have been any better no matter how much we'd spent.

By contrast, we can go to the Troubadour concert series on any given Friday night and see a good show—possibly even a great one—for only $15. And that's exactly what my Treat for Today was: a $15 ticket to see Cheryl Wheeler at the Troubadour. (Brian didn't buy a ticket, but he volunteered to bake, so he got his admission for the cost of a $3 pan of home-baked brownies. On top of that, by volunteering tonight, he earned a "tick" that he can use to get in free for a future show. Most of the time, when we go to the Troubadour, Brian bakes and then uses one of his previously earned "ticks" for me, so we both get to see the show for that same $3 worth of brownie ingredients—a truly unbeatable deal. But we knew tonight's show was likely to be a sellout, so I had to pony up for a real ticket to be sure of getting a seat.) Cheryl was a trip as always, and the opener, Kenny White, turned out to be an unexpected treat who would have been worth the price of admission all by himself.

Granted, this particular entertainment bargain only works if you happen to be a folk music fan living in New Jersey. (And if you are in that category, you should definitely take advantage of it.) But the Troubadour is just one of many smaller, lesser-known venues across the country that are putting on terrific shows at reasonable prices, often featuring artists you've never heard of but should have. Try looking for listings of events in your local paper, if you still have one, or on your city or county website. Check out nearby colleges and even high schools. Check your local library. You may be surprised at how many live shows you can attend for cheap, or even free. They may not be as exciting as Taylor, but they deliver a lot more bang per buck.

Sunday, December 8, 2024

Our first big-venue experience (and why we won't repeat it)

This weekend, Brian and I did something a bit out of step with our usual ecofrugal spending habits. As regular readers know, we're both big fans of the show Critical Role (in which "a bunch of nerdy-ass voice actors sit around and play Dungeons & Dragons"). So when we learned that the Critical Role cast would be running a live "Critmas" event at the Freedom Mortgage Pavilion in Camden, New Jersey—their first ever show in our state—we decided to spring for tickets. We'd already been to see a live show in Brooklyn featuring a subset of the cast and had a lot of fun, so we figured this event would probably be worth the cost of admission.

From the moment we first started planning the trip, though, the venue seemed determined to convince us we were wrong. First, there was the cost and hassle of ordering the tickets. They were only available through Live Nation, so I had to set up an account with that site—which turned out to be a subsidiary of Ticketmaster—in order to place the order. The process of setting up the account, linking it to my PayPal account, and placing my order took well over an hour, requiring several attempts before the transaction would go through. And by the time Ticketmaster had finished piling on taxes and fees, our two "Standard Tier" tickets, allegedly priced at $75 each, came to a total of $226.88.

This already high price, as we quickly learned, did not include parking. The Freedom Mortgage Pavilion's website informed us that while parking was "available" at various nearby lots, we would have to find and pay for it ourselves—unless, of course, we wanted to shell out an additional $50 for "premier" parking. We couldn't bring ourselves to swallow that additional expense, especially since it would most likely mean fighting our way through a massive traffic jam at the end of what was already likely to be a very late night. So we spent several more stressful hours poring over maps of the area trying to find other parking options. Our best bet seemed to be the Rutgers Camden campus, especially since Brian has a Rutgers parking permit that would allow him access to lots that might not be open to the general public. A campus map showed several parking lots, but it didn't explain who was allowed to use them. Some were clearly labeled as resident parking, but others were unmarked. We ended up planning out a route that would take us past several different lots so that if one was full, we could move on to the next.

Then there was the matter of food. The venue's website clearly stated that we could not bring in any outside food or drink except for one sealed bottle of water. However, we would be allowed to bring in an empty bottle and fill it up at one of the water fountains. So that would take care of basic hydration, but nourishment was another matter. The show was scheduled to start at 7pm, and it would take us about an hour and a half to drive there, so we wouldn't be able to eat dinner beforehand. We couldn't tell from the website what food options would be available, but we could be pretty sure they would all be expensive and would involve waiting in long lines. So we planned to pack a picnic supper—peanut butter sandwiches, fruit, baby carrots, and a couple of cookies—that we could nosh on before and after the show.

A final source of stress was the Freedom Mortgage Pavilion's bag policy. It was clear from the venue's website that my purse, which is practically a part of my body, would not be able to come to the show with me. The venue allowed only clear plastic bags no larger than 12 inches square and 6 inches deep and "small clutches, wristlets, or fanny packs" no bigger than 6 inches by 9. I had a zipper bag that was just within those limits, so I figured I could squeeze the essentials—my large phone wallet, a pillbox, and maybe a couple of small toiletries like a nail clipper and lip balm—into that. But then, less than a week before the show, I received an email from the venue reminding me about its policies, and the size limit it gave for clutch bags was only 4.5 by 6.5 inches—roughly half the size stated on the venue's own website. Confused by these conflicting rules, I consulted Reddit and found that the venue had adopted these smaller size limits two years ago and somehow never bothered to update its website to reflect them.

With only a few days until the show, I posted a couple of frantic messages on Facebook (one in our local Buy Nothing Group and one in our board-gaming group) asking if anyone could loan me a plastic stadium bag that fit the venue's limits. I ended up getting not one but two offers and, just to be on the safe side, accepted them both. However, that didn't solve the problem of what to do with my phone. I had to bring it with me, because our tickets were on it; they contained a digital code that changed regularly, so I couldn't just print them out ahead of time. But I couldn't bring the wallet that normally holds the phone because it was over the size limit. It was possible they'd allow the wallet if it was inside a clear bag, but it was also possible they wouldn't, and we didn't want to take the chance. And carrying the phone around naked would have put it at risk of damage.

Rather than run out and buy a case for it, Brian decided to try making me one. He borrowed the phone and basically built the case around it, cutting two panels out of corrugated cardboard and wrapping them in fabric cut from an old pair of fleece tights. Then he wrapped the whole thing in thinner, more flexible cardboard cut from a cereal box and secured it with a rubber band. The finished case was right on the edge of the 6.5-inch limit, so there was always a chance some zealous security guard would seize it, but losing it wouldn't cost us anything.

The last thing we had to worry about was getting to the venue. Google Maps offered multiple routes, but the most straightforward one appeared to be the NJ Turnpike. We carefully reviewed the steps to get from the Turnpike to the parking lot, going over each turn in street view so we'd know what to expect, and also how to get from the parking lot to the venue on foot. Google said the journey could take anywhere from 60 to 110 minutes, and the show was scheduled to start at 7:30 pm, with the doors opening to regular ticket holders (as opposed to those who had paid $250 a seat for VIP tickets) at 6pm. We decided to leave at 4:30 pm to give ourselves plenty of leeway in case we got lost, ran into traffic, or had some other sort of mishap.

As it turned out, none of the things we'd worried about came to pass. We made it to Camden in about an hour, and the first parking lot we looked at had plenty of available spaces. We made the chilly one-mile walk through the streets of Camden without difficulty and arrived at the venue right as the doors were opening. The guard took only a cursory look at my borrowed stadium bag before waving us through, raising no objection to Brian's homemade phone case. We made our way through the crowd, found our seats, filled our water bottle, and still had over an hour to spare before showtime. 

We did make one deviation from our careful plan; despite having partaken of sandwiches and carrots in the car, I realized soon after we seated ourselves that I wasn't going to make it through the whole show without something to munch on. Luckily, we didn't have to stand in the long concession lines, as there was a vendor passing through the aisles selling big boxes of popcorn for $10. Normally, I would balk at paying this much for a snack I can make at home for pennies, but under the circumstances, it seemed like the best deal we were likely to get. So I shelled out an extra $10 for a box and nursed it through the entire four-and-a-half hour show.

The Critical Role cast, as always, put on a great show. From where we were seated, far back in the huge auditorium, they were only tiny figures on the stage, but the venue had large screens set up that allowed us to see their facial expressions in close-up. This meant that most of the time, we were looking at the screens, rather than the live actors on the stage, so visually, it wasn't all that different from watching on our own small screen at home. But being part of the crowd, laughing and shouting and cheering when the characters did something awesome, definitely added to the experience.

Still, as we walked back to our car through the cold December night, we found ourselves asking: Did it really add that much? Yes, being in the room where it happens was a lot more fun than watching at home. But everything we had to do in order to be in that room was a lot less fun. In fact, everything other than the show itself—ordering the tickets, planning our route, searching for parking, packing sandwiches in lieu of a proper dinner, driving to and from Camden, walking from the parking lot to the venue and back on a cold December night, and arriving home exhausted at 2 am—was extremely stressful. Neither of us could say with confidence that the experience, taken as a whole, was better than staying at home and watching the show curled up on the couch in our jammies with some hot cocoa. And we certainly couldn't say that it was so much better as to be worth the roughly $241 we spent in total for the tickets, gas, tolls, and vastly overpriced popcorn.

So, while this was a worthwhile experience, it isn't one we're eager to repeat. The joy of watching the show in a room full of fellow Critters (fans of the show) just wasn't enough to balance out all the cost and hassle. I kind of feel like if Critical Role ever returns to New Jersey, rather than pay over $200 to see them live in a huge arena, we should try to find a group of local Critters and have an at-home watch party. We can share a potluck dinner, sit on comfy chairs to enjoy the show together, use the bathrooms during the break without having to wait in a long line, and still get to bed before 1 am.

Sunday, October 20, 2024

More kicks for free

It's been a very busy weekend for us. Luckily, it wasn't work or other obligations tying up our time, just a bunch of different for-fun activities that all happened to fall on the same couple of days. And, more luckily still, they were all free.

We started off the weekend with the International Games Day event at the Piscataway library, just a few miles up the road. Brian was quite familiar with this library, since it's within easy walking distance from  his office; he has often spent his lunch break strolling there, checking out the graphic novels, and walking back to work. He's also occasionally stopped by on his bike on the way to or from work. But he'd never driven there before, and the trip was complicated by the fact that there was a Rutgers football game scheduled for the same afternoon. Since this invariably snarls up traffic everywhere near the stadium for hours before and after the game, he planned an alternate route that skirted around the edges of campus rather than taking us right past the stadium. Even from this path, a mile or more from the stadium, all the campus parking lots we could see were packed with tailgaters, but luckily they hadn't discovered (or at least hadn't filled up) the library lot.

At the library, there was one large room devoted entirely to board games from around the world, each with one person in charge of teaching the game to newbies. The selections included kiddie games like Chutes and Ladders (India) and Candy Land (USA); board-game classics like Hanabi (France) and Wingspan (USA); and role-playing games like For the Queen (Canada) and Blood on the Clocktower (Australia). There were also separate areas devoted to traditional games, including chess (India), checkers (Iraq), and skittles (Ireland). We spent some time chatting with a pal from a local board-gaming group, who was there to teach Hanabi, and with the designers of a game called Shaolin, which is based entirely on the works of Wu-Tang Clan. Passing on this since we both know next to nothing about the group, Brian elected to play Wingspan instead, while I joined a game of For the Queen led by another board-gaming buddy of ours. I also tried Carom, an Indian game a bit like pool played with flat discs, and skittles, a pub game in which you try to knock down little bowling pins with a spinning wooden top. I never felt like I had much control over it, but when I showed it to Brian after he'd finished his Wingspan game, he recalled having played it years before, most likely at his grandparents' house. Apparently he hadn't lost his touch with it, since he gave it two attempts and scored over 600 both times.

In between games, I checked out the library's maker space, which features a variety of tools such as a 3D printer, thermal transfer machines, and sewing machines. The host there told me they sometimes have scheduled events, but you can also email them to schedule a one-on-one appointment for your own pet project. She offered me a choice of freebies from previous crafting events; I settled on a button reading, "So many books, so little time." I also spent a bit of time browsing the library's mini bookstore, which included a small selection of both kid and adult books for a dollar or less. Luckily, I didn't find any new books to add to our towering to-read piles, but I selected one item to add to our holiday gift exchange and a nice assortment of greeting cards to be deployed on future birthdays, all for just $1.20.

All that occupied a good chunk of the afternoon, so we headed home for an early dinner (taking an even more circuitous route on the way back to avoid the football crowds) before heading back out to check out R.O.T.-Tober Fest, a Halloween event being put on by the RAC-on-tour bookmobile. The owner of the RAC-on-Tour, Alex Dawson, is an English professor at Rutgers who believes in promoting weirdness of all kinds, and this event was no exception. We browsed the flea market and artists' booths, caught the end of a performance by "Bruce Frankensteen" (a local busker with multiple personas), watched a sideshow performer called The Reverend Thom Odd contort himself through a series of tennis rackets, and heard a reading of a spooky story by one of Dawson's students before heading home.

And that was just on Saturday. Today, after we had a late breakfast and Brian made a call to his parents, we headed out a third time to a native plant giveaway run by our local eco-group, Sustainable Highland Park. We've received free native plants from this organization before, including bee balm and hyssop, but this time we were looking specifically for something we could put in our new planters. We filled these in initially with a mixture of plants bought on clearance at the Belle Mead Co-Op: four salvias, two heucheras, two English ivies, and four begonias. Of these, we knew we'd need to replace at least the begonias in the spring, since they're annuals; as for the rest, we figured we'd see how they did and replace them if necessary.

The results were middling. The two salvias in the rear planter have absolutely thrived, but the two in the front planter—with identical soil and water levels—grew weak and spindly. Both heucheras are doing okay, but they look a bit dry and papery. The two ivy plants thrived initially, putting out long tendrils that hung over the backs of the planters, but just this past week something (presumably a deer) came along and ate a bunch of their leaves, making them look a bit lopsided. As for the begonias, they've all been repeatedly munched right down to the dirt line, and one of them has gone entirely missing.

After consulting with the folks from Sustainable Highland Park and debating the merits of the various native plants they had on offer, we settled on a narrowleaf mountainmint (Pycnanthemum tenuifolium). Being part of the mint family, it's a tough little plant that's hard to kill, and its shallow root system makes it suitable for container growing. Brian dug up the stubs of the begonias from the front planter and put the new mountainmint in their place, where it will have a month or so to get settled in before winter arrives. As for the remains of the begonias, he brought them in and put them in pots. If any of them manage to put out new growth, we can give them away or add them to Brian's workplace plant collection. (They shouldn't stay around our house, since they're toxic to cats.)

So that was our busy weekend, sandwiched in the middle of two equally busy weeks. Between volunteer activities, game nights, musical events, and other appointments, we've had something going on almost every day last week, and we'll have the same next week. After that we'll be able to slow down to maybe one thing every other day, and by mid-November we might actually get a few days in a row to catch our breath before plunging headlong into the holiday season.

Sunday, July 28, 2024

Frugalversary 2024: We'll take Manhattan

Most years, Brian and I celebrate our anniversary in a modest style. For the first few years of our marriage, I'd put on the bodice from my wedding dress, we'd buy a little 4-inch version of our wedding cake, and then we'd go to the park where we got married to eat it. When the bakery stopped carrying small cakes, we started going to Princeton instead and visiting the bakery cafe to order a slice of the same cake. And when the cafe shut down during the pandemic, Brian started baking the cake himself. Our gifts to each other were either small tokens (like the game I made for Brian and the aluminum-foil flower he made for me on our tenth anniversary) or practical items (like the cherry tree we planted for our fourth anniversary, which sadly didn't survive, or the glass-and-silicone lids I got Brian for some of our Pyrex containers on our fifteenth). The biggest celebration we ever had was going shopping at IKEA and having lunch in the cafe.

But this year, for our twentieth anniversary, we decided to splash out a little. We've discovered that one activity we really enjoy is going to a town where we haven't spent a lot of time before and just exploring, wandering up streets and into shops looking at whatever takes our fancy. So, for our anniversary, we decided to carry out this activity on a grander scale by visiting the biggest town on the whole East Coast: New York City.

Although this trip was bound to be much costlier than our usual anniversary outings, we tried not to go overboard. We made no attempt to get tickets to a show, which could easily have cost more than we'd spent on all our previous 19 anniversaries put together. We didn't even plan a visit to a museum, not even the intriguingly named Museum of Illusions or Museum of Sex, which would have cost over $70 for two tickets. Instead, we looked for things we could do at little to no cost within walking distance of Penn Station, thus avoiding any need to find our way around on the subway. 

Our first stop (well, second, after the rest rooms at the station) was 9th and 31st, where an article from Beloved City had promised we could find a "magical art installation" called Citrovia. But as it turned out, this article was several years old, so the exhibit was no longer there. Fortunately, we hadn't gone very far out of our way, so we just continued on to the next site on our list: the High Line, a park built on a disused set of former elevated train tracks. It's only about 1.5 miles long, but it has lots to see, including a variety of native plants, some funky art exhibits, and an above-the-fray view of the city. 

We also got a look at the neighboring Hudson Yards, which is both a resting spot for the city's trains and an open-air food court. We weren't quite ready for lunch at that point, but we did get a peek at a huge public sculpture in that area called "The Vessel": a series of staircases and landings visitors can explore. The ground-floor level is normally open to the public for free, but it was closed for construction, so we had to content ourselves with snapping a photo or two from outside.

Being thwarted by construction continued to be a theme of the trip as morning wore into afternoon. We'd planned to exit the High Line at 16th Avenue and then descend to street level to go visit Chelsea Market, a sort of Bohemian shopping mall with lots of eateries, but the section of the park between 23rd and 16th was closed for maintenance. So we got off at 23rd and wended our way through the streets to Chelsea Market in the wake of a large crowd of students all wearing yellow backpacks with "MLA" on them. (My first thought was "Modern Language Association?", but a quick search showed it referred to Moving Language Ahead, an English course for foreign students that culminates with a trip to an English-speaking country.)

For lunch, we chose a place called Berlin Currywurst, which offered an intriguing-sounding tofu kielbasa. Sadly, the sausage itself was disappointing, a bit mushy and lacking the garlic punch I expect from a proper kielbasa sausage. Also, the bun it was served on (along with some unremarkable sauerkraut) disintegrated about three-quarters of the way through, and Brian's more traditional meat bratwurst sandwich didn't fare any better. So, 6 out of 10 for the sausages, but 10 out of 10 for the accompanying French fries, which had a crisp, golden exterior over tender insides. The only fault I could find with them was that they were perhaps a trifle over-salted, but Brian thought they were just right. 

We ate our sausages at a small table, shoulder to shoulder with several Italian students, then spent some time exploring the rest of the shops. We ventured into a fancy bakery, an artists' market, a vintage candy store, a place called Imports from Marrakesh featuring an intriguing assortment of clothing and decor, a quaint delicatessen, and finally a genuine independent bookstore called Posman Books. We browsed through the volumes and found nothing irresistible, but I did drop $5 on a little LED flashlight for my key ring. I'd been looking for something like this anyway, so I took the opportunity to support an independent bookseller and pick up a little souvenir of our trip at the same time.

After reascending to the High Line and continuing down it to the end, we wove through the streets and crossed the bridge to Little Island, an artificial island built out in the Hudson. It's mostly used in the evenings as a live music venue, but it was a fairly interesting place to walk or, more accurately, climb along sloping paths and natural stone staircases. After rambling up and down in the midday heat, we were feeling a little tired, so we stopped into Pier 57—another large, upscale food court—to have a cup of coffee and spend some time in the air conditioning.

Refreshed by our rest, we sallied back out and made our way to the garment district, where we strolled up 7th Avenue peeping into shop windows. I slipped into one store just long enough to check the price of a dress I'd seen in the window, which I'd guessed would be too rich for my blood at $278. Apparently I'd failed to account for the Manhattan conversion rate, because the actual price tag read $795, causing me to back carefully out the door and flee before a salesperson could spot me. 

The only store we actually explored in detail was the always entertaining Williams-Sonoma, home of pricey kitchen gear. (An amusing and very New York sales clerk at this particular branch described it as a "toy store for adults.") None of the on-sale items appealed to us, but Brian found one thing he thought he could use: a candy thermometer to replace the wildly inaccurate one we have now. Unfortunately, it was a $65 model equipped with Bluetooth, a feature for which we'd have no use whatsoever. So instead, I bought him a more reasonable $29 instant-read thermometer, suitable for a variety of applications, as my anniversary gift to him. (He's already used it once to test the temperature of an ice cream base he's preparing in our new-to-us ice cream maker.)

As the clock ticked past 5pm, we had to decide whether to stay in the city for dinner or head home. Deciding that we didn't want to wait that long to eat, we settled for a quick bite at New York Pizza Suprema right near the train station. Beloved City had described this as the best slice of pizza in New York, but I strongly suspect this isn't true; both the fresh mushroom and the vegan margherita were pretty good, but neither was superior to Brian's homemade pizza. (The crust was nicely crisp on the edges, but a bit soggy in the middle, and the cheese on the vegan slice had an odd, liquid texture, not nearly as good as our homemade vegan mozzarella.) Still, it was unquestionably an authentic New York experience, and at $12.50 for both slices, undoubtedly the cheapest meal we could have expected to enjoy in the city. After this light supper, we roamed just a few blocks farther north before heading back to the station and home again for cake.

Although we hadn't officially made a budget for this trip, my private goal was to keep the entire excursion under $200: $10 for each year of our marriage. As it turned out, we met this target with plenty of room to spare. Our expenses were:

  • Two round-trip fares on NJ Transit: $64.40
  • Lunch at Berlin Currywurst, including tip: $31.30
  • Mini flashlight from Posman Books: $5.44
  • Tip for a busker playing the erhu on the High Line: $2
  • Coffee at Pier 57, including tip: $6
  • Thermometer from Williams-Sonoma: $29.34
  • Dinner at NY Pizza Suprema: $12.50
  • Parking in New Brunswick, which saved us a long walk at the end of a busy day: $16.00
  • TOTAL: $166.98

Even if you add in the $21.27 Brian spent on my anniversary gift (an amusing board game called Cat Lady) and the groceries we bought for our anniversary cake, our celebration still easily rings in at under $200. It's more than we'd usually spend for a one-day outing, but when you consider that Arthur Frommer's 1957 feat of seeing Europe on $5 a day would cost at least $125 today—or $250 for two people—New York on $167 a day doesn't sound so bad.

Saturday, January 20, 2024

Thrift Week 2024, Day 4: Chromecast

When streaming video first became a thing, sometime in the late 2000s, Brian and I used to watch it by hooking up his laptop to our TV set. When that laptop died in 2010, he built a dedicated media computer with around $325 worth of parts. That served us well for several years, but eventually it started to struggle. We'd have pauses of a few minutes each in the middle of a tense moment on Critical Role as the machine struggled to keep up.

Sometime in 2017, we decided to give one of the nifty new set-top streaming boxes a try. We started out by hazarding $5 on a secondhand Roku at the townwide yard sales, but it turned out to be incapable of streaming from Twitch or YouTube, the two sites we relied on most. This experience made us more cautious about which model to choose as an alternative. We realized that products made by certain companies, such as Apple or Amazon, would probably give us easy access to their own content and make it difficult, if not impossible, to watch anyone else's. So we eventually settled on a Google Chromecast, which was capable of streaming anything that a computer could display. (True, it required a computer or other device to stream from, rather than being a self-contained unit, but that wasn't a problem for us.)

In the six years since, our Chromecast has certainly saved us more than the $30 or so we spent on it. But exactly how much depends on what you compare it to. If you consider it to be the thing that allows us to live without TV service, then it's saving us around $40 a month, the price of Optimum's cheapest plan. Even if you deduct from that the $5 to $15 a month we pay for streaming services (depending on which ones we're using at any given time), that's still a savings of roughly $30 per month—over $2,000 for the approximately six years we've been using it.

But it's probably a bit of a cheat to calculate this way, because it's unlikely we'd be willing to pay for TV service under any circumstances. If we couldn't use Chromecast to watch our various shows, we'd have spent $400 or so on a new media computer instead. That's a much more modest savings, but still a pretty good return on a $30 investment.

It's only fair to point out that just like its predecessor, our Chromecast now occasionally runs up against a problem it can't handle. For instance, it can no longer cast episodes of Critical Role on Twitch from Brian's laptop to our TV—quite possibly because Twitch has now been acquired by Amazon, which doesn't like to play nicely with its competitors. This is, of course, exactly the problem we were hoping to avoid by choosing the Chromecast, which was supposed to be able to cast from any browser window, but perhaps Amazon has found a way to block this capability. (Brian can manage to get the "cast" button to appear by opening up YouTube in a separate tab, but when he tries to cast the screen showing Twitch, it simply quits.) 

However, if the behemoth is hoping to force us into buying a new Amazon Fire Stick to stream "its" content, it's going to be disappointed. We've found not one but two work-arounds: we can either cast from the Twitch app on Brian's phone, or we can skip casting entirely and watch Critical Role on the tiny screen of Brian's laptop instead. It's not ideal, but we'd rather sit on the couch and peer at a tiny screen than give even $30 of our hard-earned cash to Amazon.

Sunday, November 12, 2023

Ecofrugal episodes

The ecofrugal life, as I've observed before, is a series of little ups and downs. This past week or so, we've had a series of small wins—including some that started out as losses—and one small win that turned into a loss, but can probably be reversed. Here's a play-by-play:

Ecofrugal Episode 1: The Stealth Vampire

Remember how we got a free home energy checkup back in August that included a bunch of free LED light bulbs? Well, this ended up having an odd secondary effect—one that we didn't notice until the nights started getting longer.

Early one morning, while it was still dark, Brian got up to use the bathroom. On his way back to bed, he passed the spare bedroom and noticed something odd: the lamp in there, which was turned off at the wall switch, was ever so faintly glowing in the darkened room. When he went up to it and turned off the lamp's switch, the light went out. But when he turned it back on, the hint of light came back. (I couldn't get a picture of this phenomenon because the light was so faint, but imagine it as a vague, dim aura, just barely bright enough for the eye to detect.)

We couldn't remember this lamp, or any other lamp ever plugged into that same outlet, ever doing this before. But up until recently, the light in that room has always been a fluorescent bulb, not an LED. So Brian's theory is that the wall switch is faulty, allowing just the faintest trickle of current through even when it's turned off—but in the past, that tiny bit of current wasn't enough to activate the bulb. Only now, with our new ultra-efficient LEDs, is it detectable. He tried plugging the lamp into our Kill-a-Watt meter to see how much current it was actually drawing, but once he did that, the faint light went out completely. Apparently that tiny bit of extra resistance was enough to block the current.

So, this ecofrugal win (free LEDs) turned out to be a bit of a loss (a stealthy energy vampire). But it's not much of a loss, since these LEDs use only a tiny bit of electricity even when fully powered, and presumably an even tinier bit when they're only barely lit. And it should be easy enough to eliminate completely by replacing the light switch, a fix that will only cost a few bucks.

Ecofrugal Episode 2: Vegan brown butter

Back in 2018, Brian and I discovered a really delicious recipe for pasta with butternut squash and brown butter. However, we have mostly gone off dairy at this point, and most plant butters (including our new homemade plant butter) don't brown. And it's the brown butter that really makes this dish special. Without it, it's just pasta with squash—reasonably tasty, but nothing to write home about.

But recently, I found a hack online for making vegan brown butter. The trick is to add a spoonful of nut butter, which provides the proteins and sugars needed for the browning reaction. It sounded worth a try, so we picked up a jar of almond butter at Costco, which we knew we could use up even if the recipe didn't work. 

Integrating this vegan brown butter into the pasta recipe was a little tricky. The protocol is designed to make the brown butter by itself, but the pasta recipe browns the butter in the pan with the squash. Brian compromised by making the brown butter first, then adding it to the pan with the squash as it cooked. And it worked! The vegan version of the recipe had the same rich, complex flavor as the original. Take that, dairy industry!

Ecofrugal Episode 3: Board-game bonanza

This ecofrugal win started out with a loss: Brian's year-old boots, which he was expecting to last him through several winters, have developed a leak that Shoe Goo has proved unable to repair. (The Wolverine name is no guarantee of quality, apparently.) Initially, we thought the ecofrugal solution to this problem would be to buy him a really good pair of boots with Goodyear welt construction, which would allow them to be resoled. I did a little bit of research on Reddit and learned that for this kind of boot, you should expect to pay a minimum of $250. (There's one well-reviewed brand, Thursday Boots, that starts at $200, but it's not available in stores; you can only order it online, which makes finding your perfect fit a real hassle.)

Now, for a pair of boots that will last ten years, this isn't such an unreasonable price. But after his experience with the Wolverines, Brian was feeling a bit distrustful of high-end brands. He thought that before shelling out for an expensive pair of new boots, we should at least make the rounds of local thrift stores and see what they had to offer.

What does this have to do with board games, you ask? Well, the first thrift store we visited was the one at our local Reformed Church, only a mile from our house. Their selection is quite small, but their prices are outstanding, so if we happened on a suitable pair here, we knew it would be a bargain. Unfortunately, we had no such luck; there were very few pairs of men's shoes on the rack, and none in Brian's size. But while we were there, we decided to check out the rack of board games in the back room, and there we hit the mother lode. 

Someone had obviously just cleaned out their board game collection and donated the lot to the thrift store, because in amongst the usual motley assortment of old Scrabble and Monopoly sets, we found several like-new games. Three of them, in fact, were still in their original shrink wrap; two others were open but obviously hadn't been played much. I don't want to disclose exactly what we got for fear of holiday spoilers, but we scored five new, interesting-looking games (two that we'd played before and three that were new to us), for only five bucks. So even though we didn't find what we were looking for, it was well worth the trip.

Ecofrugal Episode 4: Boots made for walking

Exciting as this thrift-store adventure was, it still left Brian without footwear. So, in the afternoon, we set out in the car to check out the Goodwill store in Bound Brook (the same one we visited for our anniversary). And there, Brian found not one but two pairs of boots that fit him reasonably well: a pair of Timberland hiking boots and a dressier leather pair originally from Banana Republic. Both were in excellent condition, and each was priced at a mere $20.

Each of these pairs had its own pros and cons. Brian slightly preferred the look of the Banana boots, but the way they were constructed made them a bit of a hassle to get on and off. The Timberlands were more convenient, but definitely casual in appareance, which meant he probably couldn't wear them for any kind of slightly formal occasion. When I asked him which pair felt more like the boots he'd want to reach for every day, he said the Timberlands were probably better, but he didn't seem happy about it. 

At that point, I proposed the solution he'd secretly been hoping for: just buy them both. That way, he could use the hiking boots as a casual, everyday shoe, and the Banana ones could be his dress boots. And at only $20 a pop, the two pairs together would cost less than half what he'd paid for his current pair of Wolverines that had let him down so dreadfully.

When we got these home, I did a little searching online to figure out just how good a deal we'd gotten. I found that a comparable pair of Timberlands would cost around $120 at full price, while similar boots from Banana Republic would run around $250. In short, we just acquired $370 worth of footwear for a mere $40—about 11% of retail.

Sadly, with my weird feet, I'd never be able to pull off this kind of ecofrugal shoe coup myself. But I can at least bask in the reflected glory of Brian's success. And if we end up having to blow a couple of hundred bucks on my next pair of winter boots, the $200 or so we didn't spend on boots for Brian will balance it out.

Monday, December 27, 2021

Money Crashers: 6 Best Live TV Streaming Services of December 2021

Last year, I wrote a piece for Money Crashers on streaming video services. This year, the editors doubled down by splitting that piece into two: one primarily about on-demand streaming services like Netflix and Hulu, and one about live streaming services like Sling and YouTube TV. These services bring your favorite shows to you in real time, just like traditional TV, but usually at a lower price than cable or satellite.

The new piece compares six top services: YouTube TV, Sling, FuboTV, DirecTV Stream, Philo, and Hulu + Live TV. I go over the key features of each one and also address some FAQs about how these services work. Read it here: 6 Best Live TV Streaming Services of December 2021

Sunday, August 8, 2021

My first made-from-scratch garment

My sewing skills are fairly rudimentary. I can replace a button, mend a torn seam, or darn a hole, but I've never considered myself up to making an entire garment from scratch. Even when it comes to alterations, I'm limited to small fixes that can be sewed by hand. (I do own a sewing machine, but I'm pretty much hopeless with it.)

But recently, I found myself in need of a garment I couldn't easily pick up at the store: a hat to go with Brian's Renaissance garb. It's been nearly eight years since we last went to a Ren Faire, but last year, as the weeks in pandemic isolation dragged into months, I found myself longing for that festival atmosphere. I mentioned this to a friend I play role-playing games with, and he expressed a similar hankering. Right then and there, we cooked up a plan to go to the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire as soon as conditions allowed — which turned out to be not until this fall. And eventually, we managed to get our entire RPG group on board.

So I started reassessing my garb and Brian's to see if we still had everything we needed. My outfit still fit, if a bit more snugly than it used to, but his was in need of some upgrades. His old pair of sweat pants had worn out, and he no longer had a pair that could pass muster as Renaissance breeches, so we had to find him a replacement, which turned out to be an adventure in itself. (It's all but impossible these days to find sweat pants in stores with the traditional gathered ankle, so we ended up having to order a pair online.) And the bedroom slippers he wore with his costume last time had proved unsuitable for serious walking, so we replaced those with a pair of slip-on leather shoes we'd picked up at a yard sale a few years back. (The tan shoes look a bit incongruous with his grey-and-black clothes, but I'm hoping to add a tan belt that will make the outfit a bit more coordinated.)

Looking this outfit over and comparing it with the costume guides on sites like RenFaire.com and FairsandFestivals.net, I realized there was still one key piece missing: a hat. A Renaissance gent can reasonably walk around in just a tunic and hose, but if he's outdoors with his head uncovered, he's going to look out of place.

Unfortunately, this wasn't a piece we were likely to be able to pick up in a thrift store. There are many hat styles appropriate to the Renaissance, from the Tudor flat cap to the tall hat associated with the Puritans, but there's not much overlap between them and the hats sold for men in the modern era. I did pop into the local thrift shop to see if by any chance they had a beret, which could potentially pass for a Renaissance muffin hat, but no such luck.

Still, I thought, at least some of these hat styles looked pretty simple, as hats go. Could it really be that hard to sew one from scratch? Could I find a pattern or a guide that would tell me how?

It turned out I could, eventually. The first few tutorials I found under "DIY Renaissance men's hat" made it seem really complicated. The Garbmonger's guide to making a Tudor flat cap had one whole page just explaining all the terms she was going to use, followed by four pages for the actual instructions — way more than I was going to be able to follow. A guide by Renaissance Tailor was a bit simpler, but it called for three layers of fabric, plus a layer of buckram (stiff lining) for the brim. That was more than I could scrounge up, and more than I was prepared to buy for a project that I might make a complete hash of. Especially when the cost of all those materials put together could come to more than a ready-made hat.

But eventually, I found a tutorial that looked like my speed — one that promised a "dead easy" method for constructing a "Kinda 15th Century Renaissance Hat." The material used in the pictures looked fairly substantial, so an old T-shirt wasn't going to serve the purpose, but I happened to have an old towel that I was planning to drop in the textile recycling bin because it had a stain on one end I couldn't get out. But there was still more than enough good material there to make the two pieces the tutorial called for: a band slightly longer than the circumference of the wearer's head, and a big circle with a diameter equal to three-quarters of that circumference measurement, or more if you want it "super floppy." (In my case, it ended up being just slightly more, since the only object I could find to trace around that was close to the right size was the brim of a witch hat I'd picked up for another costume.)

I didn't take any pictures during the assembly process, because it all went pretty much as outlined in the tutorial. The only part I had a bit of trouble with was Step 4, where you're supposed to "Put the two pieces of material together, so the correct sides of the material face inwards." Since the towel material was pretty much the same on both sides, it wasn't immediately apparent how this was supposed to work. But I eventually figured out that the bottom of the circle and the bottom of the band had to be lined up, back to back and edge to edge, and I managed to get the whole thing pinned into place (using large safety pins, since I didn't have any straight pins substantial enough to hold all those pleats of bulky fabric).

Sewing it up was a fairly laborious process, since I was working by hand and the fabric was quite thick. It took me several changes of thread to make it all the way around the hat and get the circle stitched to the band and the ends of the band stitched to each other. But the whole process didn't take more than an hour, and I felt certain it would have taken me at least that long just to set up the sewing machine and try to remember how to thread it, so I persevered.

And when I was done, lo and behold, I had a perfectly passable Renaissance muffin hat. Maybe the tufted terry cloth fabric isn't exactly period, but the shape is generally right (kind of like a shorter version of a chef's toque), and I doubt even the toughest period-apparel snob will raise an eyebrow at it. 

The entire project cost me nothing, since I used fabric I was just going to discard anyway. Brian's whole homemade outfit still clocks in at under twenty bucks: $1 for the thrift-shop shirt, $5 for the yard-sale shoes, and $13 (including shipping) for the new pair of sweat pants we had to order. And best of all, I now know that I can in fact make an entire garment — at least a small one — with my very own hands.

Which may come in handy, since if the Delta variant is still raging across Pennsylvania at the end of September, I'll probably need to figure out some way to make a face mask look period-appropriate, too (vaccine or no vaccine).

Sunday, April 4, 2021

Ecofrugal news items

As it happens, there's been no big news in our ecofrugal life this week, so instead I thought I'd share a roundup of news stories from the outside world. There's no particular thread linking them except that they all relate to money or the environment or both, and they were all interesting enough to catch my eye.

Story #1: The Skybrator   

Three weeks ago, a story popped up on The Guardian about a new, innovative design for a wind turbine. Actually, it's not really a turbine at all; it's a ten-foot tower that oscillates in the wind and turns that motion into electricity. This design has all kinds of advantages:

  1. It's much smaller than a traditional turbine, so it can fit into smaller spaces where there isn't room for a full-scale wind farm. It could be deployed in cities or even in suburban backyards, perhaps as a complement to solar panels, since the wind is usually stronger at night when there's no sunlight. There are currently plans to fit it on top of existing streetlights along highways and power them directly, sending excess energy to the grid.
  2. Because it has no blades, it doesn't pose a threat to migrating birds and other wildlife.
  3. It's quieter than big turbines, and the noise it creates is at a frequency barely detectable to humans.
  4. It's unobtrusive, eliminating the "it's ugly" objection so often raised to traditional wind turbines.

And if it happens to resemble a giant vibrator, well, that's just another selling point as far as I'm concerned.

Story #2: The Rise of Non-Dairy Cheese

It was a big breakthrough in our quest for a more plant-based diet when we learned how to make a non-dairy cheese that actually tastes like, melts like, and stretches like the real thing. Prior to this discovery, we'd tried all kinds of different commercial cheese substitutes available in the store and found all of them distinctly lacking in taste, texture, or both.

But apparently, according to a recent story in Eater, there are much better non-dairy cheeses available commercially that we've never tried. In fact, the entire field of vegan cheesemaking has undergone a revolution in the past five to ten years, all without our knowledge.

According to Eater, these days there are three tiers of products sold as vegan cheese:

  • The stuff found in most grocery stores, like Daiya. It's "made from a combination of fat, starch, and flavors that have been emulsified and solidified," and it has a texture that a vegan chef interviewed in the article describes as "melted crayon."
  • Cheese made from cultured or fermented plant milk, usually cashew. This is made somewhat like traditional cheese: by adding enzymes to the plant-based milk to create curds and whey. The article says this type of cheese has "some of the funky notes and textural complexity" of the dairy-based kind. It says the best-known brand is Miyoko’s Creamery, which I've seen at the Whole Earth Center but never tried, mostly because it costs somewhere on the order of $20 a pound. Yet even, this, apparently, isn't the true top tier of vegan cheese. That honor goes to...
  • Artisanal vegan cheese. This is made just like traditional cheese: you make a nut milk, then let it ferment to form curds, drain off the whey, and mold it. Eater says this type of cheese "oozes, stinks, and blooms as convincingly as its dairy counterparts, " although its texture tends to be on the soft side. It's sold mainly at vegan cheese shops (yes, those exist, apparently) at prices I shudder to contemplate. (The online ordering section for Riverdel, a "vegan cheesemonger" in Manhattan, shows selections ranging from $4 to $18 for a quarter-pound. Yes, that does work out to $16 to $72 per pound.)

All this is interesting to hear about, but from an ecofrugal perspective, not actually all that useful. Based on my calculations, our homemade mock-zarella costs roughly $9.12 per pound, half the price of most higher-end vegan cheeses, and it's been good enough for every recipe we've tried it in so far. I admit that it would be nice to find a vegan cheddar that's equally good for use in our Cheesy Rice Casserole and Potato Apple Skillet, but not so nice that we're willing to pay twice as much for it. We'd be more inclined to try modifying the vegan mozzarella recipe with more cheddar-like seasonings (perhaps the ones from this cheddar substitute on the same vegan blog) and see how it serves us.

Story #3: The Wedding Industry Strikes Again

Finally, a story I feel somewhat ambivalent about: I learned today that Netflix has introduced a show called Marriage or Mortgage. The premise is that a wedding planner and a real estate broker both meet with engaged couples and compete to convince them that they should spend their life's savings on their dream wedding or their dream home, respectively.

The reason for my ambivalence is that, if I'm being truly honest, I have to admit I would probably enjoy this show. It's mindless fluff, obviously, but it's my kind of fluff. Yet I must also admit, even more shamefacedly, that a good portion of my enjoyment would come from my own feelings of smug superiority. I would watch the couples struggling to choose between the Most Beautiful Day of Our Lives and the American Dream Home, and I would think to myself, "Ha ha, I got my dream wedding and my dream home without going broke over either one!"

But underlying this smugness is an important point: both weddings and homes tend to be oversold. Admittedly, I would say a home is always a better investment than a one-day event, no matter how special, because it's a tangible asset that will, you can reasonably assume, grow in value, and one that you can sell to recover the money if you have to. But if HGTV is any guide, there seem to be lots of Americans out there buying way more house than they really need, and overextending themselves on their mortgage as a result. A childless couple does not need a five-bedroom house; a family that never entertains does not need a formal living room and dining room; a person who never cooks anything more complicated than a pot of spaghetti does not need a gourmet kitchen. And the same thing goes double when it comes to weddings; people are assuming they "need" a four-figure dress and a limousine and a videographer and all the other stuff we didn't have and didn't miss, without really stopping to think about what they want.

Ultimately, I think, this would end up making the show more frustrating than enjoyable for me. I would always be wanting to yell at the screen, "You don't need all this stuff!" (At least I wouldn't be alone; the reviewer for Wired had exactly the same reaction.) Every episode, I would be hoping for just one couple to push back against the show's assumptions by announcing that after seeing just how much house and how much wedding they can buy on their budget, they've decided they can afford both by just scaling back a bit. But based on a Chicago Tribune article (via NNY 360) about the show, which wonders why "no one suggests the possibility of buying a home and then having a small wedding there," this hope would never be fulfilled.

Has anyone, I wonder, ever made a reality TV show about small weddings? About having the day of your dreams without spending away the down payment for your first house? Or would that never work because these shows all rely on the "wedding-industrial complex" for their advertising dollars?

Thursday, December 24, 2020

Money Crashers: Three unrelated articles

Money Crashers has popped up three of my articles in the past week, all on quite different topics.

Article #1 is the first in a series of pieces I'm doing on Medicare. Originally, my editor asked me for just one article providing an overview of this government program and the process of signing up, and as I got into it, I discovered just how ludicrously complicated it is. I mean, doing your taxes is hard, but at least there's software for that; for Medicare, all the government provides is a grotesque kludge of a website that has the information you need to navigate the system scattered across dozens of different pages with no coherent path through it.

So I ended up writing not one, but four articles that try to provide the kind of clear, comprehensive explanation the government so noticeably fails to provide. This is the first of the four: an outline of the ins and outs of the Medicare system. It explains who is eligible for Medicare, how the program is funded, what all the different parts of Medicare (Part A, Part B, Part D, Medicare Advantage, and Medigap) are for, and how to choose the coverage you need. In future articles, I'll tackle the topics of what Medicare costs, ways to reduce the cost, and how to enroll — a process that's far more complicated than you might expect.

What Is Medicare – How It Works & What It Covers

The second piece deals with a lighter topic: streaming video services. I originally wrote this piece years ago, but like many of my articles, it sat unpublished until this spring, when my editors discovered that it had suddenly become highly topical. So they told me to quickly bring the old piece up to date so they could get it up onto the site — and then, apparently, they forgot about it until this month, when I suddenly got notice that it had been published and I should check to make sure all the info in it was still correct. It wasn't, but I did yet another quick edit to bring it up to date once more, and the revised piece now offers a comparison of the top streaming services: what content and features they offer, what they cost, and what kind of viewer would get the most out of them.

Best Video Streaming Services of 2020 (On-Demand & Live)

Lastly, we have a piece on another topic that's become highly relevant during the pandemic: restaurant delivery. These days, ordering is the new dining out, but surprisingly, it's often more expensive than the old dining out — partly because of delivery and service fees, and partly because the takeout menu itself is sometimes priced higher than the dine-in one. In this piece, I outline ways to keep your takeout food budget under control, which fall into three main categories: placing a cheaper order, controlling delivery fees, and taking advantage of discounts wherever possible.

18 Ways to Save Money on Restaurant Food Delivery & Takeout

Sunday, December 13, 2020

Cheap tools for role-playing games: Pandemic edition

First of all, my apologies for not putting up a new post last week (aside from my usual updates about what I've written for Money Crashers). My excuse is that I had to spend most of the weekend at a conference for the Citizens' Climate Lobby — the organization I joined back in January that's working to get the Energy Innovation and Climate Dividend Act passed. I should add that, in a normal year, I probably wouldn't have gone to this conference at all, since it would have taken place in Washington, DC. Traveling and hanging out in a large crowd of strangers are two of the things I find most stressful, and I certainly wouldn't be willing to sacrifice an entire weekend (including part of Friday), not to mention the dollar cost of the tickets, all for the sake of learning a couple of things that I could just as easily read about online. But this year, on account of COVID, the conference was entirely online, so instead of losing the whole weekend, I lost only Saturday afternoon and most of Sunday afternoon. Plus there was no travel, no crowding, and no rushing around. In short, this conference, which would have been a huge hassle in person, was only a minor hassle in its online format.

I bring this up because it's such a rarity: an activity that was actually easier and more agreeable to take part in online. Sadly, the same cannot be said of any of our normal social activities. We were never really social butterflies, but we had our few regular gatherings: Morris dance practice on Thursdays, the occasional concert at the Troubadour, board game nights every couple of weeks, and of course, our two RPG (role-playing game) campaigns. When the Great Isolation began in March, all these forms of social activity became off-limits, and we've had to either do without altogether or make do with online substitutes that can't really measure up to the real thing.

Still, an inferior substitute is far better than no social activity at all, and so we've muddled through as best we could with what we had available. For instance, we had to set aside all those nifty and inexpensive minis Brian had designed for his Wildemount campaign — along with the Wildemount campaign itself, since the local game store we'd gone out of our way to order the book from shut down when the quarantine started. (It seems to be open again now, but our order apparently got lost in the shuffle, as they never called to notify us about it.) So instead, we ordered a copy of the Eberron campaign guide from big old, mean old, corporate old Barnes & Noble, and Brian began running a new, socially distanced Ebberon campaign.

To make this work, we needed a couple of different technological tools. First, we needed a way to see and hear each other online. We started out using Discord for this purpose, but it proved to be kind of buggy. For many of us, video didn't work at all; the computer would just freeze whenever we tried it, so we ended up with audio only, which wasn't a very satisfying substitute for a social gathering. Eventually, we switched over to Zoom, the new standard for all forms of human interaction, and that worked better — not perfectly, but adequately most of the time. Its biggest downside is that the free version of it kicks you out of your meeting after 40 minutes, but since our group has one corporate user and one academic user who can set up meetings of indefinite length, we got around that problem easily.

Finding a way to visualize battle scenes proved a bit harder. Our first approach was to try out a Google Jamboard, which Brian and I had tried in our other campaign. This is basically just a big online notepad where members of a group can insert text and images. Brian would use the pen feature to hand-draw a map, and we'd use two sets of sticky notes to represent our characters: one to show the initiative order, and one to show our actual locations on the map relative to the monsters and each other. As you can see from the screenshot below, this could get a bit confusing.

We considered moving to a more sophisticated "virtual tabletop" designed specifically for online gaming, such as Fantasy Grounds and Roll20, which would have made it easier to incorporate maps, monsters, and other artwork from the official Dungeons & Dragons sourcebooks. These systems also include other handy features for gaming, such as storing the game rules and character sheets right in the app and doing the math for you automatically whenever you roll dice to swing a sword or sling a spell. But they had two problems: first, they were fairly resource-intensive pieces of software, and given theamount of trouble we'd had using just the Jamboard and Discord at the same time, we feared they would tax our systems too heavily. And second, both of them (at least at the time) charged a monthly subscription fee, which every member of our party would need to pay in order to use it. Given the relative infrequency with which we actually managed to get everyone together for a game session, we didn't think it would be worth the cost. (Since then, both systems have changed their pricing model; Fantasy Grounds gives a choice of a one-time fee or a subscription, and Roll20 lets you sign up for free and instead charges a one-time fee for each game sourcebook you add content from.)

But then I discovered Foundry VTT (for Virtual Table Top). I think it was the Dungeons & Dragons group on Reddit that turned me on to it, but regardless, it was a literal game changer.

For one thing, this system offered maps not merely as good as, but actually better than the fancy, three-dimensional Dwarven Forge battle maps that we routinely salivate over when watching Critical Role. Better how, you ask? Simple: these maps can not only show the terrain in detail, but can show each individual player a different view of it, reflecting exactly what their character would be able to see from their current position. If your view of something is blocked by a wall, you don't have to ask the dungeon master, "Can I see that from where I am?"; you just look at the map, and what you see is what you get. If your character has darkvision, they can see in the dark while other characters are blind; if your character is flying, the software keeps track of how their perspective would change based on how high up they are. Light sources within a room and even background noises, such as a crackling fire or the roar of a tavern crowd, fade in and out as you pass through.

And that's only the beginning of what Foundry VTT can do. It can automatically measure the radius of a spell for you, so you don't have to get out a ruler to see who would and wouldn't be hit by your fireball. It can automatically do the math when you make a roll to hit, to damage, or to use an ability. It can keep track of your character's hit points and spell slots, so you don't have to mark them separately on paper — and it can do the same with the monsters you're fighting. It can track initiative order, so you always know whose turn it is. It can import maps you've drawn in another program, or provide you with tools to create them within the app. It can even provide audio and video connections within the app, so you don't need to keep a separate Zoom window open (though we haven't tried this feature yet for fear it would overtax our systems).

OK, you may be asking, but can't Roll20 and Fantasy Grounds do all this too? Well, yes, they can certainly do at least most of it. What really made Foundry VTT superior for us was its pricing model. Because to use it, you need only one copy of the software, owned by only one person in the group. That person then turns the computer that has the software into their own private server, and everyone else can log in from there. So for a one-time expense of 50 bucks, you can use this software with anyone you want, basically forever.

Now, there may be a few features that aren't quite as easy to use in Foundry VTT as they are in Roll20 or Fantasy Grounds. For instance, you can use Foundry VTT with any game system, but the flip side of this is that it doesn't contain a lot of pre-loaded content — maps, characters, rules, monsters — for any one system, such as D&D. There's a small library of pre-loaded monsters and maps available, but if you want to use anything fancier, you have to key it in yourself. But this honestly isn't that hard to do. You can also import your maps from anywhere you like and adjust them to fit a standard grid, after which you can add walls, light sources, or whatever other features you want your terrain to have. So while you don't have as much ready-made stuff to use, you can also add your own stuff in basically any form you like. (Brian has added some maps copied from the sourcebooks, made some — like the airship below — himself, and borrowed some from other players who made them available online.)

Which brings us to this additional technological tool we've been thinking about adding to our lineup: Game Master Engine. I learned about this one from Reddit as well, in a post by its creator on the D&D subreddit. It's a tool for creating 3-D maps of indoor and outdoor terrain, which you can then export as PNG files to any virtual tabletop you use — including Foundry VTT. And when I say maps, I mean really elaborate, beautiful maps with tons of options. You can not only choose all sorts of terrain, you can add animated features like misty waterfalls, crackling campfires, and wind-stirred trees. You can import character and monster minis. You can change the time of day, the weather, and the colors. And that's just in the basic version of the software, which — did I mention? — is completely free.

The only catch, as far as I can tell, is that it only works on Windows machines. But Brian happens to have one of those, so we really have nothing to lose by testing it out. Other Redditors who have tried it say it is just as easy to work with as the video makes it look, but if it turns out not to be all that handy for us, oh well, it didn't cost us anything. And if we try it and find it's very handy, we can shell out a mere 15 bucks extra to upgrade to the "pro" version, which has a bunch of additional assets.

In fact, our new online maps are so handy and full-featured, we might even want to continue using them once (if the gods be pleased) we can actually sit down around a real gaming table again. Admittedly, this would be tricky; first we'd have to find a way to put a screen on the table where everyone, including the dungeon master, could see it, and then we'd have to figure out how to switch back and forth between characters to get the different perspectives on the scene. (We could do it by each logging in separately and looking at our own screens, but sitting around a table with our faces buried in separate screens would kind of take out most of the social element of the game.) It certainly wouldn't be as easy as moving around paper minis on our picture-frame battle map.

But if we can find a way to make it work, it would be one more example of something that actually got better as a result of our time in isolation. And goodness knows we could use more of those.

Wednesday, April 15, 2020

Money Crashers: 2 new pieces

I'm on a roll with Money Crashers, it seems. Yesterday, they published two more of my articles — once again, both of them "COVID-adjacent" material.

Article #1: 3 Ways to Listen to Free Music Online – Downloads, Streaming & Radio

Here's yet another piece about ways to entertain yourself while snuggled in your little cocoon at home. This time, the focus is on music. Streaming is today the most popular way to listen to music — surpassing digital downloads, which long ago surpassed CDs — and there are lots of services that can provide you unlimited access to tunes for free in exchange for a few minutes of listening to ads. However, these services aren't your only option. There are also sites where you can download music for free — not any tune you want, but more choices than you might expect — and listen to old-school radio stations from all over the world.

Article #2: How to Stop Thieves (Porch Pirates) From Stealing Your Packages

Because we can't go to the mall or neighborhood stores anymore, we're doing a lot more shopping online these days and receiving a lot more packages. And if you happen to be out when yours arrives — taking a walk, grocery shopping, or going to an essential job that you can't do from home — it might not be there when you come back. "Porch pirates" are shameless and fast-moving, and they can snatch a package off your doorstep within hours or even minutes. Fortunately, there are several ways to foil them. Some involve modern technology, like Ring doorbells and Amazon Key; others are more old-school, like good lighting, landscaping, and — most old-fashioned of all — relying on your neighbors.

Tuesday, April 14, 2020

Money Crashers: 4 new pieces

Last weekend, Money Crashers published four of my articles all in a row. Most of these had been on hold for months — over a year in some cases — but got pushed to the front right now because they are "COVID-adjacent content," meaning things that people are more likely to want to know about right now during the COVID crisis. But don't worry: They had me recheck all the old pieces and replace any outdated or unusable info before publishing them.

Article #1: How to Eat Well & Healthy on Food Stamps – SNAP Guidelines & Recipes

The COVID crisis has shut down a lot of businesses — most of them, we hope, temporarily — and put a lot of people out of work. As a result, more people than ever are in need of food aid, such as SNAP (the program formerly known as food stamps). I've already written one article on how to apply for SNAP benefits, which Money Crashers had me update in response to the pandemic. However, after looking at my revisions, the editors decided it would be a good idea to pull out the second half of the article, about how to use your SNAP benefits, and turn it into a separate piece. The first part explains how to use SNAP at the grocery store, and what you can and can't buy with it; the second part offers shopping tips to stretch your SNAP dollars; and the third section offers resources (such as cookbooks) and recipes to get you started.

Article #2: How to Keep Entertained at Home Without Cable TV

With COVID keeping most of us at home nearly all the time, people are looking for more ways to entertain themselves without going out. This puts a lot of us in a bind: With our incomes reduced, we can't really afford cable TV anymore, yet canceling it feels like cutting ourselves off from our only source of in-home entertainment. This article offers some alternative ways to keep yourself entertained without cable, including cheaper streaming services, DVDs, books, computer games, and good old-fashioned tabletop games.

Article #3: Where to Find Cheap or Free Audiobooks to Listen to Online

One good alternative to watching more TV is reading more books. But unfortunately, libraries — the best source of cheap reads — are closed during the pandemic. So, to present folks with an alternative, Money Crashers had me update an old article on how to find cheap or free ebooks and audiobooks and split into two pieces: one for ebooks, one for audiobooks. The one on ebooks hasn't been published yet, but you can read this one to learn where to find audiobooks on a budget. Audible is obviously the best-known source, but there are others that are cheaper or even free.

Article #4: Should You Choose an Online Bank? – Considerations, Pros & Cons

Finally, because we're all living so much more of our lives online these days, Money Crashers decided it was time to publish this old article of mine on whether to choose an online-only bank. These banks are able to offer higher interest rates and lower fees because they don't have all the expenses involved in running a branch, but they can't provide face-to-face interaction. This article presents a complete list of the upsides and downsides of virtual banking, along with some tips on how to choose an online bank.