Last Friday. On the phone. (Packing for camping)
Varun: Flashlight? Matches? Lighter? Hatchet? First Aid kit?
Varun: Ground tarp. Lantern. Propane. Tents. Tent Pegs. Tent poles?
Me: (Browsing Facebook) Mmhmmm.
Varun: Sleeping bags. Pillow–we don’t need pillows. Mat. Do you have mats?
Me: Yup. Two yoga mats. Okay, seriously. We have everything! I’m packing the car and I’ll be there in half an hour to pick you up!
And you know, I don’t even have to tell you and you know, we did not have everything.
We braved Labour Day weekend traffic and drove to Toronto to pick up our friends (He’s from Mumbai, India and she’s from Canada). There, we filled the car with two families worth of tents, food, clothes, lanterns etc. I mentioned that I had meant to buy sour gummy worms but had forgotten. This, of course, made Sarah, who is 8 months pregnant, desperately long for gummy worms. The guys did not want to go on a candy scavenger hunt, but Sarah pulled the “I’m pregnant and I NEED gummy worms NOW” card. So we stopped at Walmart while the guys grumbled about sunset and pitching tents in the dark and why North Americans use the word “need” instead of “want”.
By the time we arrived, there was no sun to be seen. Amidst my protests of carbon footprints and car batteries, we set up our tents with the headlights on. As I grabbed our bags out of the trunk, I had a horrifying realization:
Me: Umm. Varun. We have a serious problem.
Me: Well. I brought one sleeping bag. Only one. Not the other.
Varun: (Probably ranting about how I wasn’t paying attention when he read his downloaded-from-the-internet packing list). Hmm. Okay. It’ll be okay.
Me: [Insert 20 minute long freak out here]
Thankfully, our friends were gracious enough to lend us their towels, since I had the genius idea of not bringing two towels. (Hey, we can share, right?)
Our evening went a little something like this:
Remember how I told you that buying a King sized comforter was a marital necessity? Amazingly, we managed to share a single mummy sleeping bag unzipped. And instead of fighting over it, we kept waking up and making sure the other was covered. Marriage therapy, right there.
Thankfully, the rest of the weekend went a bit more smoothly, with Sarah and I laughing as Varun and Yohan bonded over growing up in India, the trials of being married to a white girl, singing Hindi songs and practicing Manly Camping Skills.
The guys did a great job of building a fire. And fanning it into roaring flames with the lid of my tupperware. (That lid will never be the same)
We spent the mornings in our pajamas, eating greasy breakfasts and playing Pandemic. In the afternoons, we sat on the beach, played bocce ball and consumed copious amounts of snacks.
And we talked. So. Much. We talked about in-laws, retirement, financial stewardship, life calling, violence in movies, children, books, missionaries. And then we dropped
into bed onto yoga mats exhausted.
I am so thankful for Sarah and Yohan (and their towels, let’s be honest).
[Because it’s my birthday, and you can do anything you want on your birthday, I am going to re-post a blog for the second time (gasp). So, while I go eat my peanut butter cupcake, you can read My Favorite Varun Moment of 2007]