
and watching a koala sit on its fat butt and munch eucalyptus leaves (Everyone knows that eucalyptus leaves are notoriously non-nutritive, right, and that's why koalas eat all the time? I suggested to Matt that a better food should be offered to koalas, but somehow, he failed to see the incredible insight in that), and sneaking up on the hundreds of these fluttering around in the giant greenhouse
and getting splashed in the Splash Zone at the dolphin show (I'm probably alone in this, but whenever Willow and I sit there I have these frightening fantasies that a dolphin will misjudge its leap and land, spine crushed upon impact, right there on the pavement at our feet. Screaming, rioting, etc. to ensue. Am I alone in that?), and just generally looking like this: 
As if that wasn't enough, on the way home we stopped by the most hard-core of thrifting experiences, the Goodwill Outlet Store. Stuff is unsorted here, people. Sold by weight. Stored in big blue bins. It's like community dumpster-diving, basically, complete with old potty chairs with dried pee still in them, and pill bottles, and band-aids. Matt and Sydney sat on a couch and fell asleep, but Will and I were in dumpster heaven. She found a bunch of dinosaur shirts and dinosaur books, and I found an 1890 Bible (beautiful, and now a birthday gift for a treasured little cousin), a pillowcase for a dress that is embroidered, I kid you not, like this 
that is right this second felting in the washing machine and, most awesomely, this:
Hell, yes, Will is jumping on the Master of the Universe himself! There's He-Man, and Skeletor, and Castle Greyskull, and Ram Man, and Teela. Obviously this bedspread visited the sanitary cycle in my washing machine bright and early this morning, and no, I'm not conflicted by my love of 80s crap media versus my refusal to allow my girls to experience commercial media. So they won't have any interest in 20-year-old bedspreads printed with pop culture images when they're 32? Whatever, they can buy space ponies or something instead.








Look at this awesome baby. It's apparently called
How minimalist is
Name an art supply, and I'm pretty much its biggest fan, but
They're supposed to have a lot of pigment for their consistency, which means extra-brilliant colors. The girls love to experiment with drawing on colored construction paper--you know, light blue on blue or whatever, so it would be nice to not often have to squint to admire their work.
I like how it doesn't have rooms, per se, but you can manipulate all the materials to make it however you want.
These metal letters are part of some crazy complicated children's early literacy program (I'm suspicious in that the children's T-shirts this program also sells are touted as an "important reinforcement in the program," but whatever), but don't they totally look fun, too? Willow's way into stringing letters together and having me "read" them, and Sydney's a stacker and sorter and arranger, so they'd both think these were pretty cool.