Happy (Weird?) Things Friday

 The way my various school admins WILL persist in sending emails to the school conference about sports equipment with the subject line "Balls". Am I the ONLY juvenile? Are they testing me? Come ON.

It was the Hunger Games day for trying to reserve sites at Sandbanks on Sunday. I was convinced it was going to be a shit show (even more than usual) because an entire campground is closed this summer to upgrade facilities. Everyone else seemed adamant that it would work out, and in fairness to them, I am quite often certain and also wrong. However, in this case I was correct. Collette admitted afterwards that it was perhaps overly optimistic thinking we could reserve a third of one of the remaining campgrounds (many of the children come and book their own sites now because, you know, they big). 

They kept freaking growing

So we were all a little unsure about whether we should try to camp somewhere else, or do something else for the August long weekend, or just let it all go. Sandbanks definitely has the nicest beach, and a lot of the other stuff we do at camp we could do in our backyards, but there's still something nice about the enforced togetherness for a few days, and I think it's not a bad thing for me to have to survive without my perfectly adapted bed and bathroom at least once a year.

Last night I was on Facetime with Eve upstairs, folding laundry and getting ready to go to bed. Eve was on my iPad and I was seeing activity on the WhatsApp, so I picked up my phone and saw that Margot was proposing Voyageur Provincial Park as an alternative. Matt was in the air and not contactable, but I figured we were probably good to book - it's not hugely expensive and usually possible to adjust the reservation later. I was feeling a little panicky about trying to do it by myself, though, because my ADHD brain just does not deal well with that kind of thing - reservation websites, campsite maps, clicking all the right buttons (yes, I was a disaster during pretty much all of my online courses for my library tech diploma - I felt like I needed to get someone to stipulate to the program coordinator that I actually am quite intelligent in a lot of ways, because that did NOT come across). 

Happily, I am advanced enough in years and life experience that I have less of a problem admitting this, so I asked Margot if she could tell me precisely which site to try for like I was a literal child. I came downstairs to the computer and had Eve on my iPad to the right and Margot and her husband on my left on my phone, which was nice because then they could talk to each other. With my emotional support technological circle I managed to book a site - we were able to all be much closer together than usual, and didn't even have to do it at seven a.m., so clearly it will be inferior in some ways to Sandbanks, but it still feels right that we have a camping option.  

While I was at the computer I bought tickets for Eve and her friends to go see Wuthering Heights because I have a Cineclub Membership and I had so many free tickets banked. Naturally the website kept doing that thing where it asked for my location and I kept saying Shut UP Website, they're not FOR me, and then this note popped up and absolutely took me out for some reason (perhaps the fact that I had my cervix scraped and a painful physio session earlier in the day and I was just out of an Epsom salts bath and feeling a little loopy)

Eve had a Baby in the Lab day yesterday - these happen on a fairly regular basis. There is a toddler that loves her and it's always fun when he comes in, but there is also a six-month-old now who is Peak Chubby-and-Adorable baby.

A post-doc in the Lab was supposed to have a zoom call with the supervisor who is technically on paternity leave, but she texted him and said obviously she couldn't because there was a baby in the lab. So he Facetimed and put his own baby up to the screen so the babies could Facetime. Can you even stand it? Goddamn, if this lab was closer I would be there all the time, I would bring cookies, it would be terrible, they would hate me. 

Camille, the colleague of my husband's who drove me around San Francisco, sent me a picture of him on the last day of his trip - it's his birthday tomorrow. I'm not sure I should share it. Let me ponder for a moment. 

Okay, pondering done.

Camille is the best thing to happen to my marriage in a long time.