
I miss gaming. Board games, sure, but especially D&D. Our gaming group has gotten together maybe once this entire calendar year, and we weren’t playing D&D. We got together for board games, and that’s fun and all, but there’s just something about burying myself in another psyche that brings me out of my real-world funk.
This lovely dude is my fairy warlock, Jaikhiri (or Jake for short). As he is all of 14″ tall, he rides a battle chicken (sure, he’s got wings, but they get tired after a while). My DM (my super supportive husband Leon) made me ask the rest of the group if I could have her, and it had to be unanimous. The resounding, ever-suffering siiiiiiiiiigh that my husband released, when it took less than ten minutes for full unanimity, was resounding. Don’t mess with absurdity with this group. Weirdness will always win, as you well remember, love of my life.
We have a ridiculous amount of games that we’ve collected since 2020 that have not been played. Most of them require a minimum of three people to play, so here they sit.
The biggest challenge to getting together, however, is the disorganization and general clutter of the house. If we could get a handle on that, we would be unstoppable. But my ADHD makes my brain shut down when I think about dealing with any of it. And I know it drives Leon bonkers, but he’s also understanding about my brain weasels. He knows this is a bad weekend for me.
All of that to get to this part.
Today, especially, is hitting hard for me. Today would have been my father’s 69th birthday. It would have been one of the guaranteed times of the year that we would have spoken on the phone. He died in April, and today is difficult. I have the feeling that his birthday will be more of a difficult day than his death day or any other holiday. As you can tell by the date, it’s not one I can ever forget. It’s ingrained into our national culture. It will always be there.
So today I honor my father, James Russell Bredeson on what would have been his birthday. I am incredibly sad that I won’t ever hear you laugh again. I will listen to the voicemail messages that I have saved, and that will help some. I miss you, Dad.