We went somewhere amazing, somewhere legendary, somewhere which echoed with the glittering, coloratura laughter of ghosts from the golden societies of yesteryear. You know the ones--those halcyon, bygone eras wherein women called one other pet and adopted names like Slim, Bunny, and Babe, and men said haw haw old chap through clouds of mentholated smoke.
It was the Hotel Del Coronado, darling, and while I wasn't exactly dripping in pearls and fur, I'm sure my entrance was every bit as grand as the Slims, Bunnys, and Babes of yore.
At least, in my mind it was.
Of course, we made an appearance at the zoo.
Caroline was terribly thrilled, thanks to the map provided by a zookeeper at the entrance. Oh, the map. The map which afforded her every opportunity to pause, scrutinize, and announce we had not yet seen the polar bear exhibit, nor the zebras, nor the fox on stilts, nor, once we were well beyond zooed out, the porcupines.
I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying something jaded and world weary like: Believe me, Caroline--you've seen one porcupine, you've seen 'em all.
Can you imagine that? Me, crushing a child's moment of wonder and joy??
Instead, my husband took Caroline on one last hurrah to the porcupine habitat while I stayed behind with Izzy and allowed her to get a henna tattoo.
Possibly not my proudest parenting moment, but one's judgement after having spent three hours milling about beneath the hot sun in a crowded public place is sure to be at least slightly impaired.
As for me, the best part of the zoo was the reptile room. You can see this fellow was not at all impressed with my attempts to speak parseltongue, and yet I made such an effort to win him over!
This guy, not so much. I did that thing where I shrugged, feigned confusion, and pretended I could only speak English--there was just nothing about him which made me want to establish common ground.
But my very, very most favorite exhibit of all was this character: a rainbow scarab. Isn't he a beauty? He hardly held still long enough for me to capture his essence on film, which prompted me to go home and google the possibilty of acquiring one for a pet.
It turns out you can buy an entire harem, dear reader. Yes, a harem. One guy and five ladies for approximately $42.00.
Is it just me, or does that sound like a total steal??
And all you have to do is feed them poop. Easy. That stuff is everywhere.
At any rate, it was a quick trip. Beyond the zoo we had time only to visit this mesmerizing store. I love that my girls have inherited my love of paper. Thick, creamy, buttery paper. Why does it make me so happy? I just want to touch it. I want to run it along my cheek. Maybe it will whisper to me. Maybe it will make me blush.
If there is anything which seems infinitely filled with possibility, it is a sheet of velvety, soft paper.
And the ocean...
We watched the sun set and let the waves rush over our feet.