And At Least a Million Buttons

I sort of have a thing for the newspaper Classifieds. Maybe it's because it comes last, and so by the time I get there I've already slogged my way through world news and the political cartoon and the crackpot letters to the editor and all the awful things that happened the previous day to children or nice animals that the paper always seems to need to run. By the time I get to the Classifieds, too, I've been awake for at least twenty minutes, and I'm likely just about finishing my nice big mug of coffee that Matt always hands me on his way out the door (the man does not even drink coffee himself, but he makes a big cup for me every morning. He loves me, and he wants a sane caregiver for his children while he's away).

Really, though? It's because the Classifieds has weird stuff to buy. And do I want to buy it?

Oh, boy, I do. Currently, I'm coveting the $25 log cabin dollhouse kit, and the 30+ pounds of golf balls for $20 (no, I don't play golf). I've also seen a lathe advertised, and a workbench that I'm sure would have been just perfect in the basement workshop, and a bunny costume for a five-year-old, and enough prom and bridesmaid's dresses to have me sewing satin fancy-dress outfits for the girls until their own proms.

So every morning, coffee in hand, when I get to the Classifieds I call out to one girl or another, "Oooh, quick, run get Momma a marker!" And I know in my head that I'm acting, perhaps, the kind of crazy that the girls will write about so evocatively in their memoirs about how bizarre their childhoods were and how nuts their mom is, but I can't help myself, and the girls get just as stoked as I am as I try to describe to them, my TV commercial-deprived babies, exactly what a PowerWheel is and does and why they totally want one. And then I circle all the awesome ads. And then I call Matt at work and spend a couple of minutes attempting to make him, too, understand why we need a model train set-up, or fifty pounds of pea gravel, and I generally can get him to copy down a phone number or two, admitting that yes, he guesses we could perhaps use a trampoline, or 100+ sci-fi and fantasy mags from the 1980s, but he never, NEVER actually calls and purchases any of the awesome stuff that I totally wish he would.

Until yesterday, when Matt came home with a gallon of vintage buttons under his arm for me.

Here's what a gallon of vintage buttons looks like, if you're curious:
There are a lot of buttons that make up a gallon. And they're really cool ones, too. You know how sometimes you get someone's old button collection or see someone selling their old buttons at a garage sale, and all the buttons are brown or white and boring and just really lame? These aren't those buttons:

These buttons are all AWESOME! I do already own quite a number of vintage buttons from ebay, so many that I'm toying with the idea of separating out some that are awesome but that I probably won't use--the shank buttons, for instance--and re-selling them again, but I actually do incorporate a lot of buttons into my work. I'm still hugely fond of my button and upholstery remnant monograms, for instance, and I'm thinking of doing a set of numbers for my pumpkinbear etsy shop, as well, or perhaps an entire name in script (which I have seen done somewhere--Susan Beal, perhaps?).

And when I'm not using my buttons, I set them up on my shelf in the study and look at them with love when I'm thinking about something. Something like how awesome my husband is, for instance, for surprising me with a gallon of buttons.

Talk about knowing someone well enough to know what they'd like for a present.

In other news, I was THRILLED today to practice, for the very first time, a brand-new handicraft. No cheating if you're a Facebook friend or a regular blog friend and saw me going on about it earlier, but if you're not a Facebook friend (although you should be), can you guess?

I'll tell you all about it tomorrow.

A Million Kinds of Crayon Rolls

I am taking a break tomorrow to use my precious and rare (Can I still call it rare? Still novel, certainly) child-free time to learn how to make cold-process soap without having to worry about burning anyone but myself and possibly the cat with lye, but otherwise, I am on a serious crayon roll kick.

I have always been of the mindset that if you want to learn to make something very well, then you have to make a lot of it--this is obvious, of course, but it's also one of the propelling forces behind my pumpkinbear etsy shop. Otherwise, what to do with two children and twelve crayon rolls? And then, a month later, when the idea materializes for a slightly different method that might solve a small problem on said crayon rolls, what to with another twelve? I can't say that my pumpkinbear etsy shop has been especially lucrative, but it has given me a way to divulge myself of excess products while honing my craft and earning more supplies money.

And that is why I am revisiting the rainbow patchwork art roll. The ones that I made were lovely, and they were all sold or gifted away, but still, I had quibbles--the bottom pockets, the method of construction borrowed from , was too thick, really just overengineered, I think, and after several trials I decided I wasn't in love with the method of quilting/creating the pockets that the book recommends. I also wanted a slightly roomier crayon pocket, to ease the work of less-nimble little fingers, and I really wanted a top pocket to get rid of any small chance of the crayons falling out when turned upside down. Oh, and the cutting and piecing of the rainbow patchwork took freaking FOREVER.

A lot of improvements to make to a perfectly good crayon roll.

To quicken the cutting and piecing, I tried strip piecing this time--worked brilliantly. I also modeled the construction of these rainbow patchwork crayon rolls more closely on the upholstery remnant crayon rolls that I also enjoy making. Because I wanted to make the crayon roll fit the upholstery sample that I already had when making those, I got into the habit of sewing a generous crayon pocket, and because the upholstery fabric is too thick and stiff to fold over and sew, I learned to face it with a nice, unbleached linen, and to make the pockets from that fabric, and I liked the look of it.

I loosely applied those ideas to these rolls, and I like the look of them, too: Although in my upholstery remnant crayon rolls the facing and top and bottom pockets are made from the same length of fabric folded at top and bottom, these top and bottom pockets are two separate strips cut from the fabric that I strip pieced--I'd worried that it would be too tricky to get them lined up accurately with that gap in the middle, but it seems I'm not quite the novice sewer that I used to be.

My sewing machine was kicking up a fuss, however, and being just generally unhappy and unwilling to encase the pocket seams with a satin stitch as I usually do, so I just sewed a straight stitch and then pinked the raw edge: I really didn't like the look of it at first, but now I'm quite smitten, and I'm not at all worried about it raveling--it's really unlikely.

I made a few denim rainbow crayon rolls, but I'm happy, too, with the corduroy pants that I cut up to make some corduroy rainbow crayon rolls, especially this yummy corduroy:Next time, however, I'm thinking of putting the rainbow fabric on the outside of the roll, and the bottomweight fabric on the inside. And then I can fold over the top and bottom pockets in the bottomweight fabric, because it won't matter if their back sides show behind the pockets, and I could stitch in the ditch all the way up each rainbow piece, sewing the bottom pockets at the same time, and then fold over the top pocket and stitch it down...

See? I'm sensing the sewing of another twelve or so rolls after the soap is set, and I haven't even started constructing the marker rolls or colored pencil rolls that I have in mind, either.

Happy Birthday to Me

My calendar birthday was August 3, but because the celebrations that I require for my birthday are many and varied (and specific), the family and I traditionally wait to celebrate it until after we're home from our California vacation. So Saturday may have been more accurately entitled my Un-Birthday, but it bravely stood in for my official birthday in all reasonable capacities.

First on the birthday schedule was early-bird garage sales. This wasn't our usual leisurely waking, cup of coffee, read the paper, bully the girls into clothing pace, but instead consists of one parent (me) waking up sneakily early, and sneakily getting dressed and sneaking out the door. I found Syd playing quietly in the living room of the otherwise sleeping house as I went for my shoes, and so I invited her along, but the sleepers stayed sleeping and the little girl and I hit the sales as soon as they opened.

The best part of hitting the garage sales early is the excellent selection--if you're in the market for anything that might be at all popular, like tools, nice wooden toys, or any kind of professional-level supplies, early is the way to go. The downside is that you can't haggle nearly as well at 8 am as you can at 1 pm, say. So if I see something that I really like early on, but it's way overpriced, I actually might swing by the sale again later that day to see if it's still there and ready to be haggled over.

Syd and I were only out for an hour, but we bought several fat quarters at 25 cents each, a wooden ballot box that used to be in an Ellettsville Kentucky Fried Chicken owned by the guy running the sale for 30 years, now to be the all-new Pretend Mailbox (the cardboard version that the girls worked on for weeks is already trashed--Pretend Mailboxes get a lot of wear and tear), yet another map of the United States puzzle, and a still-packaged calendar math kit (I bet homeschoolers, especially, LOVE garage sales). I passed on a really nice mat-cutting kit because it was 20 bucks, and some boxes of Fiesta Ware because they were 40 bucks each.

The map of the United States puzzle, oddly, didn't have the pieces actually in the shape of the states, it turned out, but was still, apparently, quite a bit of fun: Matt and Willow were awake when Syd and I got home, and coffee and newspaper and breakfast commenced. Then Matt left me home alone to do some sewing while he took the girls out to get my cookie cake (everyone gets the cake of their choice on their birthday, and the main pleasure of my cake is that I don't have to bake it). Matt actually found the garage sale that had the Fiesta Ware--I'd admitted that 40 for a box of it really wasn't unreasonable, especially since I could sell the pieces I didn't want on ebay, and so he was going to surprise me with it. When he got there, though, and asked about it, guy running the sale was all, "No way, buddy. It's not 40 bucks for a box. It's 40 bucks for a five-piece set." Um, five pieces? For forty dollars? At a garage sale, to boot? What kind of fantasy world do they live in? This little old lady who was shopping at the sale even snuck up to Matt a minute later, thinking he was a guy, you know, and therefore probably a garage sale rube, and said, "Do NOT buy that Fiesta Ware at that price." Matt's, all, "Don't worry, lady. I fully understand the problems with that scenario."

Perhaps searching for the mat cutter, or perhaps just enjoying themselves, Matt and the girls hit enough other garage sales to provide him with some Xbox games and them with stuffed unicorns, and then they drove home just long enough to pick me up, and we went to a matinee of Ponyo. It was an awesome movie, fully in the vein of Spirited Away and My Neighbor Totoro, and, just for my birthday, perhaps, it included a shout-out to breastfeeding. Not to spoil the movie or anything, but at one point Ponyo tries to give a baby a sandwich, and its mother says something like, "The baby drinks milk from me, but I can eat the sandwich to help make milk for him," and Ponyo looks confused (she's a fish-girl, remember), and her friend says, "Yeah, my mom made milk for me, too, when I was a baby." Hells, yeah!

After the matinee was the cookie caking:Every year Matt takes it as his personal challenge to trick the bakers into putting as much icing as possible on my cookie cake. Last year, he did pretty well with "Happy 32nd Birthday Julie" and a couple of flowers. I think he topped himself this year, however--"Happy Birthday Congratulations Julie." Nice, huh? Matt even tried for "Happy Birthday AND Congratulations Julie", but the baker insisted that the "and" just wouldn't fit. So maybe next year, the same wording and a flower or two, and Matt might have reached the absolute limit of possibility.

Now, one of the most crucial parts of the birthday--I wanted to finish The Watchmen comic so that Matt and I could watch the movie that night. Therefore, for the next two hours, while the girls played, I hung out and read, munching on the odd piece of cookie cake, and Matt cleaned the house. For two hours. And I had a good vantage point for observation from my place on the couch, as well, so insert happy sigh.

Matt fed the girls a quick dinner, then we went to:

The Roller Derby! It was Bleeding Heartland home team versus home team, the Slaughter Scouts versus the Farm Fatales, and it was crazy-close, with the Slaughter Scouts coming from behind to win by several points, ALL IN THE FINAL JAM!!!

I watched the roller derby on TV as a child, so it was quite nice to be sitting there knowing what was going on, and have Matt sitting next to me all confused for a change, and I got to whisper the rules to him and explain the action. Very simply, you have two teams racing around an elliptical track, with one point scorer for each team--she's the Jammer, and she'll have a star on her helmet. The rest of the team is the pack, with a pivot person for each team to set the pace of the pack. The pack skates together, and they serve as helpers for their own Jammer, and blockers for the other team's Jammer. A race is a Jam, and it lasts for two minutes, tops, although the Lead Jammer, the one who breaks out from the pack and races ahead first, can end the Jam anytime for strategical purposes. The race starts with the Jammers a little behind the pack, and they have to race through the pack, break ahead of them, and circle around the track to lap them. Every person on the opposite team that the Jammer laps scores her team a point. There are a few other rules and some penalties and a penalty box and stuff, but that's basically it, and it's very awesome and exciting. Oh, and there are costumes, which is almost the best part, and stage names, and at the end of half-time there's a raffle for some sock monkeys made by Hell-No Kitty, and if I had won that raffle, I can't even tell you what the world would have become after that, because all of my lifetime goals would have been achieved.

The roller derby ends kind of late, and the girls always end up all roller derby riled, if you can imagine, so it was crazy getting them to sleep, involving a little screaming and more than one episode of MythBusters, but eventually Matt and I were left alone with our birthday feast of Pizza Express, cookie cake, and The Watchmen movie.

I dare you to have a better birthday than that.

It's Mostly about Piecing, not Stripping

The last time I made patchwork rainbow art rolls, I miserably cut a billion little 1.75"x 4.5" pieces, and then miserably sewed them all together piece by little piece. It really wasn't all that fun.

This time? I'm strip piecing, Baby.

To strip piece, you measure all your pieces at the right width, but make them all super-long. Then, after you sew the widths together, you just have to cut each block at its correct length, and there you go. If you consider that most of your time spent piecing is actually spent carefully measuring and then cutting, not actually piecing, you'll realize that this actually saves a TON of time.

So, to strip piece my crayon rolls, I cut out eight colors of quilting cotton, each 1.75" wide. I didn't measure the length at all, just cut a 1.75" slice down the entire length of each fabric I used (another time-saver in strip piecing). And then I sewed them together, right sides facing, in the order in which I want them to be:
I usually iron all my seams to the same side, usually towards the side that has the gradation to darker fabrics.

I'm experimenting with some different construction methods for these crayon rolls, so another benefit to strip piecing is that I was able to cut a separate top and bottom, each short enough that it would have KILLED to have had to piece all these little pieces individually:
And then I had to go pick up the girls from school, and then, lord help us, we went to Joann's, so we'll have to revisit these crayon rolls already in progress at a different point in time.

In other news, the Bryan Park Neighborhood Block Party was tonight, and it's always pretty darn fun. I enjoyed sending Will out with the camera to take some photos:
Photos taken by a five-year-old are nearly always unposed, because no one expects a camera to be coming at them from just that darn low:
You get your fair share of butt-shots, too, as you might imagine:
I was reading my friend Cake's blog last night, some posts when she's just in the process of moving here to Bloomington, and I was getting a huge kick out of how she was describing parts of our town as she was experiencing them for the first time, and LOVING them, of course--the bike lanes, the farmer's market, the recycling program, Bryan Park itself. I had this weird mental vertigo of wanting to suggest to her other things that she'd probably like, while at the same time recognizing that she's lived here for years now, and she's definitely found them by now--hey, Cake, you should check out the children's playroom at the public library. Hey, Cake, have you seen the Sidewalk Exchange at the Recycling Center?

Dude, Cake, you will totally love the block party our neighborhood association throws each year.

School Girls

Yesterday's big event:

Will gloried in the status of kindergartner, but I have to say that for me, at least, the major milestone was my big girl Sydney's first day of school ever. Montessori starts at three, and so yesterday Sydney officially earned the status of youngest grouper in the girls' classroom.

With Will, Matt and I were two stressed-out parents worried about how our three-year-old would react in a new environment without us, and among a peer group that included children over two years older than her and with teachers with whom our own personalities did not mesh. Will, herself, had a difficult transition and was almost expelled because she spent two-thirds of each three-hour day for that first week throwing a two-hour unholy tantrum.

With Syd, we just get to enjoy the experience. Sydney is thrilled to go to school, thrilled to get picked up and see me again, and thrilled, in general, to be on the ride that she's on. I don't know if it's the second kid or this kid that changes the experience so much for everyone, but for the most part, this kid?

It's just a joy to be in her world.

Down on the Farm

So that I could surprise the girls after school today (SCHOOL!!! SCHOOL!!!! SCHOOOOOOL!!!!!), I finished up some little laminated cut-outs that I've been thinking about and figuring out for the last couple of days. The theme?
The farm, of course. We've got a nice big barn, a farmer, a horse and cow, a fat little pig, a duck and a chick and a nest. I drew the templates on template plastic and then cut them out double-sided, with scrapbook paper on one side and this really awesome vintage wood-grain printed paper on the other side (I found the paper at the Goodwill Outlet Store, as part of a book of samples for some Japanese company that printed laminate? Anyway, FULL of paper with faux wood grain and marble and cork and stuff). I did it a really stupid way that made it take forever, however--next time, I will spraymount the papers together, then cut them all as one piece, instead of cutting out each side individually and then fussing them together interminably.

Laminated, they're nice and sturdy, and their simple forms and two-dimensionality is actually really engaging--I've already seen the girls use that in some interesting ways in their play this afternoon, and when Sydney spilled her chocolate soymilk all over the farmer and her barn, I was extra-stoked about the laminating. It's as easy to make two of something as it is to make one, by the way, so I have a second farm play set up in my pumpkinbear etsy shop today.

It seems, yes, that for my girl Willow, the farm, unlike her other passions of outer space, the ocean, earthworms, the Nutcracker, rollerblading, and all the other billion things she loves and forgets about and then loves again later in a slightly different way, farming is no passing, here-and-there fancy.

Willow loves farms like she loves dinosaurs.

I totally get this, by the way. Although Sydney and her dear daddy are generalists, interested in billions of things but not to the exclusion of billions of other things, Willow and I are obsessives. She loves dinosaurs and farms the way I love handicraft, say, or medieval literature, or 1980s pop culture.

The fun thing, though, is the way Will gets us all passionate about her passions. Sydney, at almost two years younger, is always a willing follower (and growing to be sometimes a leader, that big girl), but I wouldn't have told you this time last year, a brown yard languishing out the window, that this time this year I'd have a little garden--A lasagna garden, to be exact, and today I harvested cranberry beans, orange tomatoes, husk cherries, and jalepeno peppers. Tomorrow I plan to cut some kale.

I also couldn't have told you that during our trip to California, in between all the beaches and aquariums and hands-on museums we could handle, I would research and discover a wonderful little farm for us to tour one day. Ardenwood had enough baby goats for Sydney to get over her goat-phobia slightly, and a lovely docent for me to once again obnoxiously out-docent (I can't help myself--she tells me that farm women had to hang all their clothes to dry, and I talk about the benefits of shade-drying versus sun-bleaching. She shows me the one-piece clothespins they used, and I tell her how to make clothespin dolls. She tells me that blue jeans take forever to dry on the line, and did I know that they were invented in California, and I tell her that the adoption of the clothing of poor workmen into mainstream society is a metaphor for Americanization, etc.) It also had some handy tips for my own at-home gardening and someday farm dreaming:Most importantly, however, it had, as have the best tourist farms we've visited, several working fields of crops to examine. Upon seeing them, my future farm girl stooped to examine a few plants up close, then immediately took off down the rows:
Trying to envision just where to put the big barn with the baby chickens and the baby kittens and the stall for every horse, I bet.

I Made It!

We are home [insert squeal here]. The girls are regularly staying awake until midnight now, which is oddly even later than their California bedtime, and the suitcase exploded all over the living room, undoing all the work I did cleaning before we left so that I could come home to a clean house, and I suspect that Matt hid some of our stuff, like our sweaters and his nice suit, at his parents' house to be discovered and mailed home later so that we could fit all the stuff I bought into our one suitcase, but we are home.

We came home to a couple of very nice surprises, by the way. One of our adorable tadpoles transitioned into an even more adorable, and very teeny, little frog during our absence:
Look at that--his little tadpole kibble is as big as his head! Now the girls and I have to determine whether or not he's a native species, and see if we can release him into the small creek by our house.

The other surprise:

Me! In Make magazine! This is my article that was destined to be in Craft, before its sad print demise--since we still have Craftzine to love and adore, I'll tell you secretly that I'm even more excited that I get to be in Make instead. Check out my custom memory game, writing and photo credits to ME(!), in volume 19 of Make at your local library or bookstore.

To my new friends who are here because you saw me in Make, I swear, this really is a crafty lifestyle blog, heavy on the parenting + hijinks. Yes, the last ten posts have been about my vacation, but that's where I've been for the last ten days. But never fear, for today, in between grocery shopping and taking the girls to the Montessori open house and reading the longest encyclopedia about farming ever written for children and shouting my ref calls at two children who have been, I swear, at each other's throats all day, I did something a little fancy with template plastic, a glue stick, and a book of vintage faux-woodgrain paper samples that I bought at the Goodwill Outlet Store.

I'll talk about that tomorrow.

All the Little Fishes in the Deep Blue Sea

You might have noticed from the photos, but this has really been Willow's vacation. Syd is the best of sports, but at just three years old, a week-plus is a long time to be without the regularity of the home routine, as well as the familiarity of the home stuff and the hometown people and places. She's grown very close to her grandmother this trip, which is as terrific a goal as anyone could have, and otherwise my focus has been to keep her as even-tempered as possible and encourage her to participate in whatever adventure she feels ready to participate in.

But at five, Will has come into her own as a kid. She is enjoying her grandparents, agreeable to any kind of activity, and relishing every single new thing that presents itself to her. And we've been learning so much about her on this trip, as well. The kid loves the beach, loves rides that spin around really fast--she loves adventure. Five is a good age.

I wanted the girls to engage with the concept of the ocean as more than just the beach, so we drove down to Monterey to the Monterey Bay Aquarium, another landmark that we hit every year. It has touch tanks where you can handle everything from seaweed to starfish to sea urchins--
--and extensive habitats both of old favorites, like the jellyfish--
--and new favorites, like the seahorses: Almost all of the exhibits are at a height appropriate for a child Willow's age----and, happily, there are outdoor as well as indoor portions of the museum, and interactive components to all of the exhibits (the thoughtfulness of the interactivity depending on how recently the exhibit was put together), and a playroom for small children with dress-up materials, art activities, and stuff to climb all over.

And when you're done with the aquarium, you have to save some energy for the Dennis the Menace Park. It was created by Hank Ketcham in the 1950s, and yet it is still an innovative and engaging playground, with just a few traditional jungle gyms and plastic equipment pieces, and lots of concrete and stone structures to scramble on, with slopes that allow you to climb up them or slide down them, a real train for hanging off of in a death-defying fashion in order to get a glimpse of the bay----a looooooong suspension bridge, a hedge maze, a rock wall, and several really terrific slides for the slide-fiend in the family: Whew. And when you're done with that, even though it's very late in the day, almost sunset, take a quick trip to the Seaside Beach:
The waves are excellent, and occasionally there are harbor seals, and if you run really fast, you can maybe pretend that you, too, are five years old and an adventurer at heart.

I Stood Directly on the San Andreas Fault WHY?!

I'm sure that most of you could probably think of lots more examples, but in my opinion, this photo demonstrates my single worst parenting decision EVER:
Yep, there are the babies, in sunscreen, hats, and matching T-shirts. And the blue post? Why, that's placed at regular intervals throughout the Point Reyes National Seashore to mark the exact line of the SAN ANDREAS FAULT.

I encouraged my precious children to stand directly on top of one of the world's most active and most notorious faultlines in our modern era. And then I snapped a photo.

Other than the constant threat of imminent death should California decide to finally up and fall into the ocean as it's been threatening to do for ages now, our visit to Point Reyes was as peaceful and pastoral as you'd expect at any national park, or at least one with a pretty active seismograph right there in the visitors' center. We went on a nice long hike out in the tule elk reserve, and saw sights both vast--
--and intimate:And in the land of a billion beaches but not as many climbing trees, our little tree worshippers finally found themselves a good one: And worship they did: Point Reyes is north of the Bay, so this was actually our first trip across the Golden Gate Bridge in a couple of years--normally we head southwest on our daytrips. There's a great spot for viewing the Golden Gate on just the other side of the bridge. If you've ever seen a photo of the bridge, this is likely the shot you saw: It's wonderfully iconic, both up-close and fitting the entire bridge into one frame, with the city behind it, and incorporating an interesting diagonal line. Just to the right of the bridge in that shot is Ocean Beach, actually a really nice beach for being inside a big city, and the beach at which we spent our sunset on this day: Because a day without a beach?

That would hardly be any kind of day at all.

When You're Goin' to San Francisco...

...be sure you know ahead of time what day of the week the Exploratorium is closed.

We drove up to San Francisco ostensibly to visit the Exploratorium (as a hands-on museum it's a little schizo for my tastes, but the girls love it, and as long as you take some Tylenol pre-emptively before you enter their doors you should fare alright), but alas, the Exploratorium is closed on Mondays.

But, you know, it's San Francisco. I'm sure we can find something to do.

We chilled at Crissy Field for a while, with its ridiculous view of the Golden Gate Bridge:
And whenever we stood still long enough, we gamely complied whenever tourists wanted us to take pictures of them with their cameras. I NEVER ask someone to do this, because their photos are always crap, and I usually make Matt take the photo when a tourist asks us, because I'm a camera snob about the boring poses and boring cameras of the tourists, but I actually wish I hadn't been such a snob and had been the one taking this shot: I bet Matt's photo was crap, though.

We ate some sourdough bread, of course, although we did not ride a cable car, and we went to the California Academy of Sciences, which I was REALLY excited about, since it just re-opened late last summer after a renovation that took so long that it's never been open in the decade or so that I've been coming to Cali for Matt.

The Academy of Sciences' renovation makes it look much more like a modernized natural history museum. You can see where many of the dusty old stuffed animals were moved to, to be incorporated into brighter, more interactive exhibits, and you can tell where the big bucks were spent, on a huge aquarium that is reminiscent of the Monterey Bay Aquarium----except that there's an albino alligator--and a big rainforest habitat that exists in a huge glass globe in center of the museum.

If you don't mind dead bugs on pins, there are some very cool exhibits on butterflies, and one in particular that shows the genetic diversity of one specific insect by showing just thousands of them stuck on pins so you can see their tiny little subtle variations of color and size and shape and spots and stuff.

The children's play room, which is a necessity, I think, in any modern museum, be it science or art or natural history, was imaginative but small, and the baseball caps were crazy-overpriced (although I really wanted one), but the Galapagos and Madagascar exhibits were really excellent, and Willow and I spent a VERY long time hanging out by the pendulum and learning that the earth spins:

Not a bad lesson for such a fine day.

Tomorrow--Point Reyes National Seashore.

Once More to the Beach

We've visited California often enough by now that we have some definite favorite beaches here, that we go to as often as we can while we're here. Crissy Field in San Francisco is one, and we've been there twice so far, and Ocean Beach, also in San Francisco, is actually a new one that we caught at sunset yesterday and were pretty stoked by. Other beaches, such as Natural Bridges, we're not that excited by--we're beach snobs, I suppose.

Our most ultimate favorite beach by far, however, and my favorite beach of any I've ever been to--black sand, white sand, Iceland, Hawaii, Italy, Florida, Scotland, wherever--is Pebble Beach, the local name for part of Bean Hollow State Beach. Instead of sand, this beach consists of pebbles broken off of a quartz reef offshore, and worn all smooth and awesome:
Sure, they just look like a gravel parking lot from that angle, but check them out up close:
They're just every color you can imagine, black and white and clear and green and shiny and speckled. It's extremely satisfying just to plant yourself belly-down on their warm surface and peer near-sightedly at them--you could pass a contented infinite of time that way. They're also, however, immensely satisfying to play with, all warm and smooth and with a nice weight to them, a nice change from the gritty, sifty sand of the other beaches: And also unlike sand, they have a lot more air between them, and their warm weight is relaxing, so you can actually bury Daddy REALLY deeply while he naps:He came out okay, if a little woozy.

Pebble Beach is also nice for clambering up rocks----and peering into tidepools situated feet from the splashing surf----and taking some time to gaze out into the infinite distance: Of course, after you've spent hours and hours at Pebble Beach, you're all sweaty and grubby and wet anyway, so you might as well go ahead and hit a sandy beach on your way home, just for the novelty of the thing: Some of us like to run with the tide, and some of us like to watch:

There's pleasure to be had in both of the activities, of course, one active, and one profound.

Tomorrow--San Francisco.