Remember last time we went camping? With the terrifying park ranger and the iron gate removing us from society and the rattlesnakes?

This weekend was not like that.

So here's what I'm going to recommend to you: Know someone who owns a permanent campground, and who will invite you along to partake in it. Because my friend Alisa's family has a spot in Mendocino County that they keep set up all summer long, complete with decks, a full kitchen (complete with granite countertops, a 3-burner stove, and a stainless steel sink), a bar, a table to fit twelve with a gazebo and cozy chairs, and a 1970s trailer with seriously amazing wallpaper. I'm also going to recommend that, once you've secured your invite, to make sure that you travel with a pack of friends who don't bring things like children along with them (so there is silence), and do bring things like salmon fillets along with them (because in the absence of these children you can make those salmon fillets after night falls, and there's no one spread-eagled on the floor wailing that they NEED A SNACK).

I am not the target audience for a solar eclipse. I mean, I imagine they're cool and all, and hooray for once-in-a-lifetime experiences, but in no version of reality am I loading up a camper and hoofing it over to Oregon so I can battle people who are far better suited for post-apocalyptic survival than I am for gas and water. I mean, I'm pretty sure Bachelor In Paradise is going to be amazing tomorrow night. Priorities.

But here's the thing that's been freaking me out the past couple of days: I am not a fundamentally ignorant human with zero knowledge of astronomical events and their potential repercussions....and yet I can totally imagine myself forgetting about this whole "solar eclipse" thing - because while it's technically a big deal, I guess, it's not an especially big deal to me, for whatever reason - and meandering down the street around 10AM tomorrow morning, then noticing that it's getting dark and cloudy and going "Hm, that's odd!"...and then looking up to see what's going on, and whoopsie: now I'm blind.

This sounds un-fun, to say the least.

This is what my computer screen looks like at the moment. (To be specific, this is what it looks like in a good moment - the enormous vertical black line is occasionally replaced with a blinking series of skinnier rainbow lines, plus the occasional screen flicker and a thankfully-more-occasional-but-fucking-terrifying-regardless melt-effect, during which all of the letters on the screen actually fall down on the screen.)

So I'm going to need a little extra time to get today's blog post up, because I need to go panic at the Apple store for a couple of hours, or possibly weeks.

In the meantime, let me leave you with the below evidence that truly next-level photobombing skills can, in fact, be something a person is capable of displaying at the ripe old age of three.

Yeah, I want a pet dragon too.

OK, so at the Renaissance Faire last weekend I decided to switch up my usual floaty look and dress up like a pirate, instead: my son's sword, Kendrick's vest, a big feather thing that's meant to be used in a smudging ceremony, and my awesome J.Crew pants that Kendrick thinks aren't especially awesome because they make me look like a potato. (He is wrong; the potato part is the awesomest part.) What I wore to the Ren Faire has nothing to do with pet dragons, of course - I'm just mentioning my outfit because I was super into it and think that "pirate" is my fair look going forward, and figured you should probably be aware of this.

Moving on: please look at what I found being sold at a stand called Wyverns Of Whimsy.