Session One

WELL! I think that was a success!

For my birthday back in Feb., my kids got me the newest Dungeon Master's Manual AND a starter campaign module and they asked to start a family game. I was really pleased, NERVOUS! but pleased. I played pretty hardcore (level 37 dark elf thief, I still have her character sheet) at Red Dragon in Otisville back in the early '80s. Then various sets of friends tried to get a cohesive group together in college, but the availablity of booze and the lack of time, we kept rolling 4s.

When my boys were old enough they got into card games like YuGiOh and MAGIC and they would humor me playing a stand alone quest but those were all snowday one offs.  Then Izzy found "my brother, brother and me" the McElroy Boys  and we all fell in love.  Anna (aka my extra daughter) wrote us up a summer campaign but Pete was reluctant to say the least and then Anna moved to Grad School.

So off to Phandalin "The Cart Party" toddled. Nobody a.) left  b.) cried or c.) said they were busy next month so am pronouncing my first time as DM a B+.  I had two total n00bs,  two rookies and one actual gamer. (Z. really should be DM, but I think I managed.) I told them they had to handle food cuz I can't make Sunday dinner and DM so Izzy made spanokopita and apple pie bites, we had soda and beers (Matt and Fabi brought me special tiramisu stout... NICE! It is good to be DM! lol) cookies, chips&salsa, grapes and pretzels. Then at about 5:30 they got pizza delivered.

They rolled their characters before we started. It is so easy to do online! There are alignment quizzes! These kids... sheesh! Get off my lawn! So old lady grumbling aside, I hooked them in with personalized (wax sealed and everything) letters getting them all to the stables in Neverwinter. I had lego min figures for minatures. I made a votive candle "campfire" for when they made camp.  I made a Pandora playlist of HP/ Star Wars/LOTR movie tunes, Skyrim soundtrack etc.  That they enjoyed. The epic music was hilarious overkill sometimes but it was good ambiance everybody agreed. We busted out all the goofy SCA goblets and HAD A BLAST. Close to five hours of actual game play they made it past level one.

My first "oh gotta hustle here" was when they blew off the Goblin Hideout and delivered the wagon straight to their assigned target. I was ready for LOTS of Goblin combat and had to improv more townspeople than I was truly prepped for. I did have fun having townspeople scared of Pete's minataur/cleric! Izzy's ghost is gonna need some catering to as she just misted around alot.

desperate to stay focused

I saw a meme that said, "You are what you do. NOT what you SAY you do." UGHHHH! ANGST! FINE.

In the last three days, I have given a very fashionable millenial a successful haircut, counseled said  sophomore, not murdered my husband, actively training a rowdy yahoo of a lab/pitbull puppy (simultaneously apologizing to my best friend for telling her I was getting her a boy toy and instead bringing home a half sick spaz toddler #dawgs) I have ordered goblin Lego figures for a D&D campaign.  Laundry. duh. forever. Cleaned three toilets.  Updated my French homework on duolingo, started Spanish. (hola!) Took my dad-in-law stuffed cabbage and promised him Paprikas in two weeks. Shopped for Irish groceries and toilet paper. Cared for baby chicks. Thought about interior design for living room update. Walked dogs. Trained dogs. Loved dogs.  I HAVE BARELY WRITTEN ANYTHING. (No updates on agents or publishers.)

Here are the two things I have produced:

1.  a poem


Winter has

a

salient mortality

a chosen

icy acceptance

Like Bukowski

or Sartre

2. a wee bit of creative non fiction 

Dotty Goes to the Movies. By her oldest grand daughter

Lifting the heavy rack of hot Mason jars out of the boiling canning bath the young woman sighed. She had been putting up spaghetti sauce all morning. This last batch needed to cool. She pushed her hair up out of her face. She untied her garlic scented apron and hung it on the hook in the broom closet where she glanced at the Farmer’s Almanac calendar hanging on the nail. She crossed off the Friday July 28 box while she read 1944. She would be 15 in December.

“DORIS RUTH!” her mother’s strident voice called from the porch. Her mother was enormously obese. She lounged in the shade like some misguided whale. “DORIS RUTH!” she bellowed again. Dotty stepped through the door, its wooden framed screen rattled loudly as it slammed shut behind her.

“Yes, Ma?” Dotty was exhausted. She knew her mother was going to call for more lemonade. She didn’t care. Let one of the littles handle it. There were eight other siblings in this family why was SHE always in charge? She stopped on the top step and turned to face her mother, “What do you need?” A red winged blackbird trilled a melody from the huge pine tree that shaded the house. Dotty wished she could fly.  Her mother’s voice made sounds but Dotty did not comprehend her words.

She stepped down the front steps. She noticed they needed to be repainted. The skirt of her calico day dress caught the summer breeze. Her mother’s voice screeched into her consciousness “…bedsheets are still on the line. Bring them in now, girl.”

“Bring them in yourself, you old buzzard! I am going to town.” Suddenly rebellious, Dotty ran down the path. She cleared the gate in the picket fence and sped past the rural mail box. It’s stainless steel mouth gaping open with no mail in it at all.

Dotty kept running until their driveway connected to the county lane. She startled dozens of large grasshoppers which jumped in zigs and zags in front of her. She saw her father and the boys at the far end of the soybean field. Their heads all bent over the front end of the big tractor.  She purposefully did not wave or call out. She needed to get away from her family and the constant chores.

There was a new Cary Grant picture called “Arsenic and Old Lace” playing at The Odeon in town and she had forty-five cents which could get her an afternoon matinee ticket and an ice cold soda. Then she would come home and see if anybody had thought to save her a plate from dinner or if they would have all starved to death, helplessly waiting for her return. She giggled a little vindictively thinking about her four brothers and father, hungry after a long afternoon in the sun, sitting down at the table where no food magically appeared.

A sleek and shiny International pick up rumbled past her. Dust from the dirt road billowing behind it. It stopped. She kept walking as if she didn’t notice.  An elbow leaned out the driver’s window. The sun bronzed young man had a bushy beard that glowed red in the afternoon sunshine. He was a carrot top for sure! He whistled a long low wolf whistle. Doris kept walking.

“Good Afternoon Miss. Can I offer you a ride?” his smile was genuine his accent was Canadian.

Doris looked at her white canvas Keds which were only getting filthier by the dusty minute. She replied, “Why YES. I think I would accept your kindness. How do you feel about Cary Grant pictures?”

The cheerful driver reached across and opened the passenger side door. Doris clambered up into the truck.  They shook hands and she was mesmerized by his dark brown eyes. “My name is Ray. I love the movies. Can I buy you a popcorn?” Doris smiled and leaned back into the seat. The afternoon was looking up.

Lasagne

We were inspired by Alex to dust off the pasta machine. SALUT!

In like a lion?