A hot time in the old dungeon tonight.

These grapes are shaped like pears and I find that disturbing. Maybe they were genetically modified to include genes from my oil painting instructor in college, who was also pear-shaped. They certainly do taste a little like paint thinner.

D&D tonight was fun, if hot. I blame Stewie for stealing one of the fans (I’m not really concerned whether or not it is his fan, thanks for asking) and keeping it in his room. And by that I mean I blame him for the heat, not for the fun. I blame the fun on Kelly, who brought home made blueberry ice cream. And by home made I mean it’s made in her home. I’m wary of restaurants who declare that I’ll love their “home made” meals. I choose to believe in that case that somebody is living in the restaurant, therefor it is his/her/their home, therefor the meals are ‘home made.’ I guess there could be rats who call the restaurant home too, so okay – yeah, by that logic, no matter where you go the meals are home made. Swanson tv dinners are home made because gypsies and spiders live in the factory. “It’s gypsy-licious!” their new ad campaign begins. No? I digress.

In D&D the kids are finally putting together pieces of the information I’ve been feeding them to come to various conclusions. These conclusions may be right or they may be wrong, I’ll never blog, but it’s nice to see them putting their heads together as a group. Most of the time NPCs will tell them what to do and they’ll just assume it’s what they’re supposed to do seeing as how it came from the DM. Not necessarily, my pretties, not necessarily. They parleyed, and in the words of Paul Simon, time it was oh what a time it was. Now they may make choices that I haven’t planned for and even though it means more improv for me, I think they’ll enjoy the campaign more that way, knowing I’m not railroading them.