Sometimes I actually act my age

I sat down to write about the events of the weekend, which proved once and for all that I am not a grandma. No grandma in the world could possibly have kept up this weekend. But what actually came out instead was a list of alternate projects for my REU. I've been terrified for the last few weeks that the jellyfish are not going to show up in time for her to do the first replication of my temperature experiment and that we will be left to come up with an alternate project for her at the very last minute. This seems completely rational to me since water temperatures are WAY below normal for this time of year, but my advisor keeps assuring me that it'll be fine. I'm pretty sure it's a good idea to be prepared anyway. Let us remember the frantic first week of my own REU experience when for no reason at all there were absolutely no male snow crabs to be had in all of the Bering Sea, and I was left with the most harebrained idea ever for a project and no idea whether it would amount to anything (it did, and was considered a testament to my brilliance). So I just thought of the most fantastic project for her! It’s interesting. I think we can pull it off (there’s only one small glitch, which is about 900 fewer than usual when dealing with jellyfish). And best of all, if I make her do it, she’ll have to figure out why the hell we care in the first place.

So anyways, back to the weekend…
Friday we decided to cut the non-beer part of the day short by playing hooky to tour a local brewery. And by local, I mean two hours away in “Delaware”. It was near the beach, so of course we had to go stick our feet in the water, despite the cold. Upon reaching the beach, we were approached by a shaggy blond kid who insisted the he and I had gone to high school together. Drunken J finally asked his age. 19. We laughed. He didn’t get it. I told him that when I graduated from high school, he was in seventh grade. He proceeded to try to convince us to go to a frat party with him at UD, presumably to buy the beer.

Saturday… got up early-ish, shopped and made food for the impending party, mowed the lawn, pulled the jellyfish net out of the water where it had been “safely” stored back in December (cut it into little pieces and disposed of the remains on Monday), then up to Annapolis for a BBQ to celebrate the successful defense of now Dr. E. Played badminton and drank enough of someone’s lovely home-brew that I was convinced to go out once we got back to Cambridge. Our usual bar was nearly empty except for us, and a good time was had by all.

Sunday… helped CK move, for which he repaid us with another BBQ. Then I finished reading Lolita just in time for book club. I don’t think anyone else disliked the book as much as I did. I’m sure it was brilliant. It takes you inside the mind of a pedophile, and that’s just not a place I want to go. I don’t recommend it. Next month’s selection: Kurt Vonnegut’s Hocus Pocus. I plan to like this one better.