You can keep a geek out of his favorite game for only so long before he starts craving adventure again. I found a new group of D&D players who are around my age and who appreciate old school dungeon crawls. They told me they were about to start a campaign playing the original (AD&D1) Temple of Elemental Evil using the D&D3.5 rules, and I about peed my pants. ToEE is in my top three favorite classic adventures, and D&D3.5 is my favorite edition of D&D.

So I connected with these guys through email, and they invited me, (and another guy), to join them. Friday night we all got together for our first game session, to meet and create our characters for the campaign. We didn’t get a whole game session of play in, but we got enough that I see good potential in playing with them.

There are six players plus the DM. Our characters are:

• Fighter
• Fighter
• Cleric
• Sorcerer
• Rogue
• Paladin — me

Yes, I’m playing a paladin again. No, it’s not what I always play, (this is the third out of maybe a dozen characters I’ve played on a regular basis), but I just felt that a paladin was the perfect thematic idea for attacking the Temple of Elemental Evil.

We are all starting at first level, and our first excitement came when the caravan we were traveling with, (to Hommlet!), was attacked by a bandit gang of humans and gnolls. We did well fighting off the attack, and the event allowed our characters to bond a bit and take the measure of each other in battle.

Upon reaching Hommlet we took rooms in the Inn of the Welcome Wench, and set about learning about the area around the village. We made friends, contacts, and even annoyed the local curate of St. Cuthbert. Eventually we were given a mission to go back to where the caravan was attacked on the road, and track the bandits back to their camp or hideout. We needed someone with tracking skill, and learned that a local yokel named Elmo was a decent tracker, and he was willing to join us as a hired hand.

We went out on the road again and set Elmo to tracking the bandits. We ended the game night looking across a bog at a crumbling old moat house where the trail seemed to lead. Next game session we’ll sally forth and investigate the place.

* * *

Now, I gave full disclosure to the DM that I have played part of, and read the entirety of Temple of Elemental Evil. It’s been a while, and I don’t remember details of individual dungeon rooms and such — I only remember some major points. (I know Elmo.) But I said any information that I do remember, I’ll keep it out of character knowledge, and I won’t ruin the game for anyone. I just want to experience this adventure, and I don’t care if I have to get a lobotomy to remove the knowledge from my brain. He didn’t seem concerned about what I might remember. I’m glad, because I am very excited about this game.

Bullgrit

I’ve picked up running a bit for some of my exercise regimen. We live next to a city park with a paved trail around the lake, and the weather, though hot, has been mostly beautiful the past few weeks. The trail is 2 miles per lap, and our house is only half a mile from a trail entrance, so just one trip around and back home is 3 miles. I usually fully run the first lap, then I have to alternate running and walking the second lap.

I’ve been doing this in place of my P90X/Insanity cardio workouts about twice or thrice a week for three weeks, now. (I still do the P90X weight training.) It’s pretty fun, but it’s hard on the legs. Damn hard on the legs. I’m used to the extreme intensity of the P90X and Insanity workouts, but neither of them are so long and continuous on just the legs. Running is just legs, legs, legs, legs, legs for 30-60 minutes.

A few days ago, I was out running in the late afternoon, when a storm approached. I was just starting a third lap, (for the first time), when I heard some thunder off in the distance. I can finish this lap, I thought, before any rain gets here. And even if I did end up getting wet, so what, I was already sweating, and the water would be refreshing in this 90-degree heat.

I got half-way around the trail, and the bottom fell out of the sky. The rain came down so fast and hard it was like God had poured a bucket out on me. Within seconds, I was drenched right down to soggy, squishy running shoes. The wind was gale force, the rain was so cold, and sticks and pine cones and whole freakin’ limbs were falling out of the trees over my head. I got hit on the head three times by crap falling from above. I had to immediately take cover under a trail sign.

Wifegrit was texting me to warn me of the storm coming — they were getting hail where she was, at her mother’s house. My fingers were wet so my iPhone’s touch screen wouldn’t register most of my touches as I tried to text back. I tried calling, but again cold, wet fingers on the screen weren’t registering touches. Plus I had a bluetooth headset in my ears, and even when I got the phone to dial, I couldn’t get the signal to send to my headset. I couldn’t hear Wifegrit and she couldn’t hear me over the din of the blasting wind and rain, (and my moans of, “Oh God it’s so friggin’ cold!”).

At one point my brother called me, and I couldn’t activate the touch screen options to hang up, so I just shouted at him, “I can’t talk right now,” until he hung up. I couldn’t even hear what he was saying. He called me back the next day to ask what was going on. Turns out that in my fumbling with my phone, I had actually called him. It worried him, my strange call and frantic cries of, “I can’t talk!” Sorry bro, didn’t mean to scare you.

Eventually I managed to communicate with Wifegrit and explained that I needed her to come pick me up. There was no way I could run the 1.5 miles home through this storm. There was only a little hail around the lake, but all the debris falling from the tree branches was actually looking dangerous. Plus it was frickin’ freezing cold. And my shoes weighed 5 pounds each with all the water soaked into them.

At last, Wifegrit showed up with her minivan, (with leather seats — safe for a soaking wet husband’s butt), to rescue her man. Then, as if on cue, within a minute of me getting into the safety of the van, the rain lightened up to barely a sprinkle.

That was the most exciting any of my workouts have been. I hope they never are again.

Bullgrit

Our neighborhood has a big get together every July 4th, with food and fireworks. Usually it’s held in the other cul de sac of the neighborhood, (based in the driveway and garage of one of the organizers), but this year everything was set up and happened in our cul de sac, right in front of our house. The organizers asked if they could use my grill, so they wouldn’t have to haul theirs up from their house. I said sure.

It was a brutally hot day right up until the organizers got the canvas gazebo/tents set up. Then a wind started up, lifting and blowing over the tents a couple of times. We got the legs spiked down fairly well, and then the rain came through. The temperature dropped over 10 degrees in just a few minutes. Fortunately, the rain only lasted maybe half an hour, but the temp stayed down for the rest of the evening.

My grill is not a big apparatus. It’s a little bigger than I need to cook for the four of us, but it’s not one of those grand, party-sized things. I just assumed, (with no real basis for the assumption), they were going to have more than one grill out there. But, it turned out, they managed everything on my one, alone. (I didn’t do the cooking, myself.) The cook had about a dozen hamburgers and a dozen hot dogs cooking all at one time on my little grill. I was impressed.

In addition to the grilled meats, everyone who came to the gathering brought some other dish. There were meatballs, pastas, chips, dips, and a variety of desserts. Personally, I ended up eating two hamburgers with buns, another hamburger patty, (that I ate sort of like finger food while chatting), a handful of chips, and oh God, far too much dessert — two cupcakes, and maybe 8 cookies! At a buffet-style spread, I kind of lose my freakin’ mind, especially with desserts. I ate so much I made myself feel sick. My body isn’t used to eating like that — that much all in a few minutes.

We parents talked, the kids played, and all went pretty well. We all wore name tags to help everyone learn everyone, (our neighborhood is only a few years old). On my name tag, I wrote my name but also added, “Calfgrit7 & Calfgrit11’s dad.” When I stuck the label on my chest, one of the dad’s standing across from me read it and said, “Oh, that’s a good idea. Now I know exactly who you are.” Our kids play with each other every day, but he and I see each other maybe twice a year, at these neighborhood parties.

Nearing 9:00, the kids gathered in a big circle in the cul de sac as one of the dads and a couple of the older boys set out and lit some fireworks. It was a pretty good show for as simple as the works were, and the kids loved it. As darkness set in, everything started winding down and everyone started cleaning up and going home.

Not a bad little neighborhood gathering, and no child or house was set on fire. All in all, a good event.

Bullgrit

I took my boys to IHOP yesterday evening for dinner. Calfgrit7 gets mac & cheese and a fruit cup. Calfgrit11 gets pancakes and bacon. With the pancakes and bacon, came a side of hash browns. Over the years, we’ve tried to get the boys to try hash browns, but it’s been a while since the last attempt.

“Hash browns are just like french fries,” I said. “They’re breakfast french fries.”

Both boys looked at me suspiciously. The shredded brown stuff didn’t look appetizing to them. Nothing like french fries.

“Trust me,” I said. “You’ll like it.”

Calfgrit11 picked up one little piece of shredded potato, looked at it, and touched it to his tongue. He couldn’t have tasted more than three molecules, and he made this awful twisted face of disgust.

“Aw, come on!” I said. “Actually put a measurable amount in your mouth and taste it. French fries!”

They both picked up several pieces with their fingers and put them in their mouth. Calfgrit11 again made the disgusted face. Calfgrit7 at least was polite and simply said he didn’t like it.

Oh well. I tried to expand their food options. But it’s an impossible mission. For every 20 things we ask them to try, they find just one acceptable. Maybe.

Bullgrit