If everything goes according to plan, Ryan, Nolan and I will embark on a new and wonderful phase of our lives together this evening. We will grab some root beers, sit at our dining room table, and I will take them on their very first dungeon crawl.
We have spent the last week or so creating characters, discussing the rules, and building excitement for tonight’s adventure. I have been staying up an extra hour or two each night after the kids go to bed, pouring over websites and my core rule books, simulating combats and creating NPCs. I’m pretty nervous, because I’m DMing an adventure for the first time since The Isle of Dread in 6th grade. And back then, I managed to kill everyone in the party pretty quickly, and never got to sit behind the screen again.
(For those of you keeping score at home, that would be about 19 years ago — Holy crap. Ninteen years ago? I’ve really been feeling older lately, and writing that number really put a crick in my neck. When did 31 become old? I know it’s not, but . . . damn.)
Anyhow, last night, Nolan and Anne were in the kitchen cutting his hair. I was at the dining room table reviewing Cleric spells, while I listened to The Two Towers soundtrack. Ryan came out of his room, and sat down across from me.
“Watcha doing?” he said.
“Just refreshing my memory. It’s been –” I paused. “Well, it’s been a really long time since I played ran a campaign, and I want . . . ”
(I want you to think I’m cool. I want to do something special for you. I want to share something with you guys that isn’t sports-related, so your dad can’t take it over and force me out of it.)
“I want to make sure you guys have a good time,” I said. “It’s important to me.”
“I’m so excited!” he said.
“Me too.”
He absentmindedly rolled some d20s I’d scattered across the table.
“Can I roll up an extra character, just for fun?” he said.
“Is your homework finished?”
“Yeah. Everything’s done, and I worked ahead in Biology.”
“Really?”
He nodded.
“Dude. That’s super-responsible. I’m proud of you.”
He smiled. “So can I?
“Sure,” I said. “The dice bags are on my desk.”
He got up, and walked over to my office. My desk, normally buried under computer books and writing journals, is currently coverd with gaming books: GURPS, Mutants and Masterminds, Car Wars, too many Cheapass games to count, and — of course — a stack of D&D books ten feet tall.
“It’s 4d6, right?” he called out.
“Yep, 4d6. And you –”
” — throw away the lowest roll.” we said in unison.
“Ryan, I . . . ”
(I love it when that happens.)
“I have an extra character sheet here that you can use.” I said.
“Okay.”
I went back to my books. A moment later, Ryan returned. Four six-sided dice dropped from his hand and rolled across the table.
“Since you’re the DM, will you watch my rolls?”
“You bet! This is . . . ”
(This is something I’ll remember for the rest of my life.)
“This is really fun.”
He picked up the dice, and threw them: 2 – 4 – 5 – 1
“Eleven?! Oh man!” he said.
“Hey, eleven isn’t a bad roll at all.” I noticed something familiar about the dice. Two of them were black, with red numbers. There was a skull where the one would have been.
“Hey, I have dice just like those in –” my heart stopped. I jumped up, and ran into my office.
There it was, in the cool blue glow of my monitor, atop my Freedom City sourcebook: an open bag of dice. My bag of dice. The black one, with the red pyramid from the Bavarian Illuminati on it. A clear d10, and two brilliant blue d12s sat near its open top. Its drawstring was cast carelessly across the side of the book, dangerously close to my Zen fountain.
Ryan slowly walked into the room.
“Is something wrong?” He said.
“You . . . you touched my dice!” I said. I felt a little woozy.
“Well . . . yeah.” he said.
“No. Ryan, you . . . ”
(You are about to see your stepdad as the old gamer geek he really is. The gamer geek I hope you’ll be one day . . . heh. This is actually kind of cool.)
“You can’t ever touch my dice.” I said, patiently.
“Uhh . . . aren’t they all ‘your dice’?”
“Technically, yes, but these here, in this bag, they’re the ones I’ve played with since I was in high school.”
He furrowed his brow and looked at me for a moment, while I put my dice back into my bag. A white d8 with worn off blue numbers, the clear d10 with white numbers, a green d6 that’s really a poker dice . . .
“When I was younger, these dice . . . ”
(These dice were some of the most important things in my life. Well. I have some perspective now.)
“These dice were a big part of my life.” I said.
I held the bag in my hand and looked at him. For the first time in eight years, I saw some of myself reflected back.
“You know what? It’s not that big a deal. I’d just rather you use some other dice.” I said.
“So do I get to re-roll that eleven since I used . . .” he lowered his head, and spoke in a grave voice: “The Forbidden Dice?” He smiled.
We laughed together.
“Eleven is a good roll, Ryan.” I said.
“I know, but twelve gets me plus one.”
“Okay. You can re-roll. But if you get a lower roll, you have to keep it.”
I tossed him my green bag, and he dug out 4d6.
“Deal.” He said.
We walked back into the dining room and sat back down at the table. Ryan threw 4d6: 2 – 5 – 2 – 1
“Nine?! Oh man!”
“I bet that eleven is looking pretty good now, isn’t it?” I said.
“Shut up.” he laughed.
He collected the dice, held them thoughtfully for a second, and said, “Wil, I’m sorry I used your dice. I just thought that bag was really cool.”
“It’s okay Ryan. Someday . . . ”
(Someday, I’ll give that bag, and all the dice in it, to you.)
“Someday, you’ll have your own dice, and your own dice bag, and you’ll understand.”
He threw 4d6: 6 – 6 – 4 – 4
“Sixteen! Rock!” he threw the goat.
On a 3×5 card, he wrote a one and a six beneath his nine.
“Ryan, I . . .”
(I love you more than you’ll ever know. Thank you for sharing these moments with me.)
“I can’t wait to play with you guys tomorrow night.”

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Find out here!

We are on full-on STORMWATCH!!!11 here in Los Angeles, which is perfect because today was the first day in ages when I actually had to drive down into Hollywood during rush hour.
All those jokes about how bad people drive when it rains in LA? They’re funny because they’re true. I’d just like to take a moment, and give “The Finger” to the entire city.
. . .
Okay. I feel much better. Thank you. 🙂

Quoth Professor Farnsworth, “Great News, everybody!”
Uhh, I mean “Good news, everyone!” (I lose 1d4 geek points, but get +1 for trying to quote from memory, and not cheating by using Google, so *roll, roll* 1d4-1=3. Oh, of course I roll the highest possible when it’s a penalty. whatever)
I just found out that O’Reilly will have Dancing Barefoot in stores on March 4th!! I’m not sure what sort of media ORA has planned, but I’ll be sure to update WWdN readers when I know. I hope they’ll put together some in-stores, like the ones I did with Monolith Press last summer.
Many of you have asked if I’ll be at Creation’s Grand Slam convention in Pasadena next month. I wasn’t sure, so I called Adam Malin at Creation earlier today.
We had a very nice conversation, and Adam invited me to come to the show! The final details are yet to be worked out, but I’ll be there to read from and sign Dancing Barefoot, geek out at stuff, and be part of fandom, which is always fun for me. Don’t tell anyone, but I may also have a super-secret project to debut, as well.
Also, after the fantastic success of Earnest Borg9’s performance at Grand Slam last year, Adam Malin asked me if we would bring our show to Las Vegas in July. Right now, we have a “handshake” deal to appear. I just have to make sure the scheduling works out for everyone else in EB9. Heh. I love calling it “EB9” because it sounds like some sort of spiffy code. Sadly, it’s just further evidence of my explosive geekery.
When I know more details about all these things, I’ll post them here.
Oh, and this entry’s title comes from a really fun band called The Wag. If the Beatles and the Cowsils got it on backstage at Ed Sullivan, The Wag would totally be their love child.

On Friday, February 13th, I went to visit Kris at home before she and her husband made the trip to City of Hope where she would begin her treatment. I brought her a few things to help pass the time during her stay and just wanted another chance to be with her before she started feeling awful again.
I was sad when I left because although her spirits were high, I could tell she was really nervous and scared about going in. I came home and did a few things around the house before picking the kids up from school. About an hour after I picked up the kids, Nolan wanted to go to a friend’s house. His friend lives kind of far, but there was no way I was taking the freeway on a Friday, especially on a holiday weekend. So we were taking side streets when Kris called my cell phone.
“We’ve been sitting in terrible traffic and just got off the freeway to take sidestreets to the hospital.” she said. “So I wanted to call you and thank you again for everything you guys are doing with the marathon and all the fundraising. I can’t believe it’s already over $2,000!”
I couldn’t believe it either. “It’s so awesome that there are so many people willing to help.” I said. We made small talk. I think it was good for both of us. I asked her how she was doing; She’s really scared and doesn’t want go in.
“This is the best time to do this. You have great doctors that are going to help you get better.” I tried to sound strong but I was scared too. We continued to talk as I pulled up to a red light at an intersection.
“Hey! You just passed me!” I announced. So Nolan and I followed her for a couple of miles until we had to turn, and she had to head into the hospital driveway. As we pulled up next to them, I hung up and blew her a kiss and told her to take care of herself and I’d see her on Monday. Tears filled my eyes as we drove off.
Earlier today Kris called my cell phone. “What are the donations at?” she sounded terrible, yet there was excitement in her voice.
“About $8,000!” I proudly informed her. She couldn’t believe it. I asked her how she was doing. She said she did great all weekend with her chemo, but woke up this morning feeling really sick. They were going to give her something for the nausea which would also make her sleep but she really wanted to know how we were doing. I love that she has this to keep her going. I told her to get some sleep and I’d come by at the end of the day.
I printed out all the comments written about her and our marathon. I couldn’t wait for her to see all the great things everyone said. I also brought flyers we made about the marathon because she wanted to give them to her visitors to help with the fundraising.
As I raced up to the hospital doors (only 10 minutes left in visiting hours) Kris’s husband was standing outside talking with some friends. He walked me into her room. I was so surprised to see her sitting up, chatting with the nurses and looking great. The anti-nausea medication and the nap did wonders. She was feeling much better. I was so excited to tell her the donations are almost
$10,000! We chatted as they removed her empty chemo bag. Kris said it’s been two hours on, four hours off, all day. One more before midnight. Then 7am tomorrow morning she begins the first radiation treatment. Three a day for the next three days. She told me how she was up crying all night because she was so upset that they taped padding to the rails of the bed.
“They say it’s for the seizures that can happen once the radiation starts. I can’t believe I’m going to have seizures” she said. But she said the nurse told her not everyone has them. I tried to comfort her by telling her she probably won’t have them. After all, she’s taking anti-seizure medicine. I don’t think I convinced either one of us very well.
I hugged her and told her I’d see her tomorrow. Her husband walked me out. “Thank you so much for everything you and Wil are doing. It gives her something to look forward to. Something to hold on to. It’s just so amazing that so many people are donating” I told him that we were so glad we could do this and we would donate platelets next week after her transplant.
“She’ll be so happy to get that from you. It takes a few hours though,” he explained.
I don’t care. As long as I can help.