Last week I did something that I haven't done in quite some time. Probably not since college. Last Thursday I sat down and played a good old fashioned game of Dungeons and Dragons.
I've played Dungeons and Dragons (D&D if your "cool") since I was in 6th grade. Back then it was a semi-rebellious activity since the media was fond of casting it as some sort of elaborate suicide cult. Some reasonable Christians are still afraid of it.
Not me though. I am a bad ass. Well right now I'm just a level one cleric. Still...that's pretty bitchin right?
When I was a kid, I remember my dad being a little concerned that I was choosing to spend time inside and "play pretend" rather than go outside and play football or baseball. I definitely remember him telling me that I would one day grow out of this whole fascination. I think he was more telling himself that in order to feel better. I'm not sure what good that sort of information would do for me.
Actually I think I remember making a promise to myself that I would RESIST growing out of D&D because it was too much fun. So there I was last Thursday. A 32-year old, hanging out with other thirty-somethings, talking about magic spells, goblins, and elves while munching on chips and Cheetos.