Make Way for Ducklings (and Also Little Kids)

When you bring children to Boston, you simply must bring them to the Boston Public Garden, because the Boston Public Garden is where Mr. and Mrs. Mallard and Jack, Kack, Lack, Mack, Nack, Ouack, Pack, and Quack live.

First, you can feed the crusts of your peanut butter and jelly sandwich to the real ducks and ducklings of Boston Public Garden, happily living on and around their own island in the Boston Public Garden Lagoon:

Then, of course, you have to ride the swan boats around the lagoon, although I doubt that you'll find any peanut vendors.

I suggest that you do not attempt to actually retrace Mrs. Mallard's path. It's a dangerous trip--that's why she needed the help of Michael and the other police officers.

I do suggest that you eat a huge ice cream cone, however, then keep walking down the path, and soon you'll come upon a wonderful surprise--Mrs. Mallard and all eight ducklings!

They're a little bigger than life-size, and they don't mind at all if you stand on them--

--or even hop on Mrs. Mallard herself for a brief ride.

After that, feel free to spend the rest of the day as you choose, but after you bring your children back home again for the night, you know what I suggest for a bedtime story...

P.S. Want to follow along with my craft projects, books I'm reading, road trips to weird old cemeteries, looming mid-life crisis, and other various adventures on the daily? Find me on my Craft Knife Facebook page!

Wish You Were Here

We're at the beach:

Life is sweet.

New York, 130 Million Years Before the Dinosaurs

That's where we spent the morning.

In my quest to find the nerdiest things for us to do on our vacation, I researched and discovered a little place just south of Buffalo, called the Penn Dixie Paleontological and Outdoor Education Center. It's HELLA hard to find, since its street may be slightly made up and thus doesn't appear on GPS, and nobody answers the phone for you to ask. Fortunately, this one lady in a CVS by the highway lives near Penn Dixie, and she told us how to get there. Thanks, CVS lady!

I was a little worrried that, after spending almost an hour trying to find the place and shelling out almost 30 bucks to get in and rent tools, the place wouldn't be worth it.

Um...it's worth it:

It's WAY worth it:

Most recently, the Penn Dixie site was a mine for shale that was then crushed up and used in cement. Less recently, as in 130 million years before dinosaurs recently, the shale was the bottom of a tropical sea, and many little critters died there and sunk into the mud, which gradually transformed into shale, of which the top was later mined off, rendering what's beneath oh-so-visible to your average fossil hunter.

Shale is more fragile than and erodes more easily than fossils, so you can actually just walk around on this moonscape that is the Penn Dixie site and spy, among the crumbling shale at your feet, fossils wherever you look. They're plentiful--

--if you learn how to see them:

Willow and Sydney had the time of their little lives. Sydney, perhaps because she's so low to the ground already, kept spying and picking up these HUGE fossils--crinoids like the ones we find at home, sure, but also huge horn corals, and brachiopods that look just like clam shells, and pelecypods--and Willow blissfully spent time at one self-proclaimed "dig site" after another, sometimes just running to and fro giddily, not knowing where to go next it was all so exciting:

As for me, I dipped around for a while, but then I found a section of dried creek bed that had a good bit of exposed shale. Shale is so fragile that you can practically peel it up in these thin layers, and if you run out of fault lines to start peeling up at you can just give the shale a little thunk with your hammer and you've instantly got a ton of brand-new fault lines. So I grubbed happily right alongside the babies--

--primarily on the look-out for trilobytes, which I have become obsessed with. I didn't luck out enough to find a whole trilobyte, but I did manage to ease numerous partial trilobyte fossils out of their slate resting grounds.

Thank goodness that it eventually started to pour down rain, because otherwise we would have spent the entire day there at Penn Dixie, Matt growing increasingly crazy with frustration at our lack of getting back on the road. Getting back on the road is Matt's main source of amusement when we travel, and he does not as a rule enjoy anything that might hinder us getting back on the road where we belong. He tolerated with good nature a brief visit to Past and Present, a little fossil shop temptingly near Penn Dixie, and then back on the road we got.

Exclusive! The Photos that Man versus Food Didn't Want You to See!

Yay, Niagara Falls!

It's like a nice walking path with an excellent park on one side of it and an amazing series of waterfalls on the other side. What could be better?

Our only annoyance was that Man v. Food happened to be filming an episode just as we were there, and they kept doing every single thing that we were doing (sightseeing, ticket buying, Maid of the Mist, etc.) at the exact same time that we were doing it. At first, obviously, I was SUPER excited to see the Man v. Food guy--we had cable for a few months last year, and I loved that show, in which the Man v. Food guy goes somewhere cool, sightsees, and then eats a lot of food--and there they were, filming right where we were, and so I was all, "Matt! Take a picture!"

Here's Matt's picture:

In the back you can see the Man versus Food guy checking his mark, and then there's the camera guy and the sound guy, and in the front are these two people who just stand there and act mean to tourists. Just after Matt took that photo, that woman on the left actually walked over to him and told him that he had to stop taking pictures immediately.

Now, Matt's a nice guy, so he was nice and conciliatory, but his stance was the same as my stance would have been if it had been me with the camera getting all redneck up on her instead of being all California cool: it's unfortunate, for her, that she doesn't want us to take photos, because she has no power to stop us. We're American taxpayers in a state park. As Americans, we're according certain freedoms, and pinnacle among these freedoms is the right to take amateur photographs of celebrities. And not even celebrities enjoying Niagara Falls on their downtime with their families, because I wouldn't photograph that, but celebrities actually on the clock being celebrities. Filming not on a closed set, or even inside a barracade, or even near a sign that says "Quiet" or "No photographs," but right smack in the middle of the walking path at Niagara, making use of, if I'm not mistaken, uncredited appearances by the dozens and dozens of random tourists walking by. I think I was one of those tourists, and you didn't hear me being all, "You can't take photos of me," even though I not only don't make a living by having my photo taken, but I don't even like it, because I'm a good sport. You want me to stop taking photos somewhere that I have a legal right to be and a legal right to photograph at, and there's no "No Photography" signs around, and it's Niagara Falls, for Pete's sake, and I paid TEN DOLLARS to be there? Then you have to look like you could arrest me or at least beat me up, and even then I'll throw a big redneck fit and make a huge scene.

In other words--you want me to stop taking pictures? Make me.

Mind you, I wasn't even that interested in taking photographs of the Man v. Food guy--we were at Niagara Falls, you know?--but after that I did make a point of taking (or pretending to take, because it wasn't worth blowing through my CF card) tons of photos every time we were around them, and since we basically did everything together, I basically took photos of the Man v. Food guy for half the day--I might as well be his mom, or maybe I should make him a crazy-fan scrapbook. Mr. Man v. Food guy basically ignored all the tourists that his camerapeople were getting lots of free shots of, which is fine by me because I'm down with keeping your mind on your job, but lots of unhappy tourists were complaining and saying sad things about how the Man v. Food people had been mean to them, so I considered myself doing it for the people.

Everyone needs a hobby.

Otherwise, we had an excellent time, with lots of staring at the falling water--

--and a VERY exciting trip on the Maid of the Mist:

Even the Man v. Food people came with us (and took up a quarter of the boat, and rebuffed excited tourists. I always thought Man v. Food looked really fun, but according to the way these people acted, it is a J.O.B. like anything else--were they missing children's soccer games? Being forced to face their waterfall phobias? Who knows, but they were grumpy):

The Maid of the Mist has an observation deck that is very high and offers grand vistas:

And the chance to get up very, VERY close to the base of waterfalls?

Very, VERY exciting:

Even for the adults, it turns out:

I was, of course, planning to wrap my fancy camera up nice and tight at the last possible minute, but as soon as we so much as turn the corner to the Horseshoe Falls--

--the camera is all, "Is that a hint of moisture that I sense in the air? ABORT! ABORT!"

And it crapped out for the rest of the day and refused to behave until Matt gave in later that day and took it to an actual camera shop. Mind you, all the clerk guy did was futz with it like we'd been doing, and that camera shop didn't even sell Canons so what more could he know than us, but at least it gave my little Rebel the feeling that we cared, and so it recovered.

And that's why instead of hundreds of glorious photoscapes from the observation deck later, instead I have grainy video from my trusty and sturdy ipod!

I know, you're welcome.

Our Priceline hotel in Buffalo ruled pretty well, as well (which is great since we're getting screwed at this Fairfield Inn outside of Albany), with one of our top ten hotel swimming pools EVER:

Seriously, check out that vista!

You bet it was a top-ten day.

Six Dinosaurs and Two Police Officers

Normally I wouldn't even begin a child's birthday shirt until the night before her birthday, but since we're leaving on our road trip tomorrow, during which our baby will celebrate her birthday on the beach, I think this counts, and thus I crafted yesterday while the daddy took the girlies to the public pool.

During the walk home from the pool Sydney, on her balance bike, was pulled over and questioned by the police.

Well, technically the police were the ones who pulled over, since Sydney was waiting on her balance bike on the path at the tree where the girls are required to wait for us when they ride ahead. Matt, who was VERY far behind on the path, although in eyesight--hence the requirement to wait at that particular tree, which is visible--saw them drive by, then drive back by, then pull over, then get out of the car and walk over to Sydney, then kneel down to speak to Sydney. Then he saw Sydney turn and point to him on the path, and then he waved. And then he got to speak to the police officers, too. Matt did not recount the conversation for me, which means that it likely did not go well, but they did all manage to come home, and CPS has not been by yet, and thank goodness it was him instead of me, because although I am quite happy to have my children watched out for when we're out in the wider community, I am vastly more indignant than my good-natured, easy-going partner if my parenting is questioned or my civil rights tampered with.

I also have gotten into the habit of idly listening to the police scanner streaming online while I putter, so I must have been out of the room at the time, because I'm sure I would have recognized my little nuclear family being speculated about on the radio...

But meanwhile, happily, busily, ignorant of the fact that were I in Arizona my child would be at that moment in danger of being deported for she does not carry ID, I was crafting a birthday masterpiece:

The stencils were made using the Dinosaur Tracks cartridge, my Cricut, and freezer paper, and painted onto a thrifted T-shirt (it came tie-dyed) with Jacquard paints. I can't WAIT to see it on my baby on the beach on her birthday!

And also? We always cooperate to the extent of our legal requirements and the best of our abilities with the authorities whenever it is requested.

A Shirred Strawberry Sundress

The finishing touch is a Band-aid across her upper lip that she insists is a "mustache."

The shirred fabric purchase was a happy mistake. 

A strawberry print, it was hanging out in the remnants bin at 75% off due to a little stain near one edge, but when I bought it I thought that it was a plain quilting cotton. The shirred ends were folded to the inside, so it wasn't until we got back home and I unwrapped the fabric that I saw that it was that same type of pre-shirred fabric that I often see and always think would make a sweet and simple sundress for my kid, but never buy because I know how to shirr fabric on my own sewing machine, only I never do, so how lucky to have a perfect length of that pre-shirred fabric in my hands at the price of only a couple of dollars and one load of wash with Oxy Clean!

One wiggly-kid measurement and one clean-finished seam later--

--that same wiggly girl was very happy, indeed:

To her dismay, I did insist that we add shoulder straps, although when I changed their name to "shoulder pretties" and got out my stash of lace bits for her to choose from, she changed her tune enough to help me sew on the finishing touches:

And then she gave it a good, thorough try-out:

If it's good enough to rollerblade in, then it's good enough for me!

Because What the Kitchen Needs is a Floor Covered in Loose Marbles

Because what else are you going to do with all those empty toilet paper tubes?

If you have children, and/or are crafty, perhaps you, too, are in the habit of collecting odd objects with no use. Toilet paper tubes, rubber bands, cereal boxes, business envelopes with those pretty security patterns on the inside--all have ample crafty uses, and yet, WOW is it easy to get quite a collection going, with no end in sight.

With plenty of modifications (of course), this week the girls and I used up my pointless collection of empty toilet paper tubes by completing this refrigerator marble run project from Family Fun. I have been doing, if I do say so myself, a GREAT job with science enrichment this summer. My failures in Spanish and geography enrichment seem lighter when I think about the tons of fun, experiential, open-ended science exploration that the girls have done in the past few weeks, not to mention all the science books, computer games, and videos that go without saying. The marble run project is a fun, experiential, open-ended exploration in physics.

And of course, it's crafty:

This includes what may be the younger child's first successful experience using the hot glue gun independently:

Success, of COURSE, is not counted as not burning oneself, because that would be nigh on impossible, but as not freaking out like a big baby and letting getting burned spoil all your fun. The child is going to be a hard-core crafter like her momma one of these days.

The Family Fun tute calls for adhesive magnet strips. I first tried to cheat by recycling refrigerator magnets--well, not *recycling* them, per se, but we can get by without them--but they weren't strong enough, so we had to take a trip to Michael's with a 50%-off coupon in hand to buy some stronger button magnets.

Happily, this project was an excuse to clean off and then wipe down the front of the refrigerator, making it look nice and clean (except for some pen scribbles and glued-on beer caps, whatever). But then we crapped it right back up with a plethora of scribbled-on toilet paper tubes, so there you go:

But does the marble run work, you ask?

Yeah, it works. But we definitely need a bigger catcher at the end of the run, because you can put a catching container at the end of the marble run all you want, but the marble is only going to land nicely inside it IF you've put the run together absolutely perfectly.

Otherwise, we're starting a brand-new marble collection somewhere under the refrigerator, apparently.