Thanksgiving was, as always, yummy. The menu: Turkey, ham, rice, gravy, cranberry salad, garden peas, lima beans, homemade macaroni and cheese, biscuits and butter, sweet potatoes with marshmellows, and stuffing. My father upon looking over the table groaning with dishes: *frowning* "This doesn't look like a lot of food. Do we need something else? Let me see what's in the pantry." I kid you not. Luckily, there was no other food.
Now, though, I am bored. Family is gone home, there's only silly holiday specials on the TV, and TV isn't my big thing anyway, and I've slaughtered the Bandit Camp in BG1. About to go clear out the last of the baslisks, armed with potions of mirrored eyes, protection from petrification, and scrolls of stone to flesh for when the first two fail. I neeeeeed the experience. Then I'll hit the Cloakwood, and see what I can find, there. But possibly not tonight.
Now, though, I am bored. Family is gone home, there's only silly holiday specials on the TV, and TV isn't my big thing anyway, and I've slaughtered the Bandit Camp in BG1. About to go clear out the last of the baslisks, armed with potions of mirrored eyes, protection from petrification, and scrolls of stone to flesh for when the first two fail. I neeeeeed the experience. Then I'll hit the Cloakwood, and see what I can find, there. But possibly not tonight.