Yesterday was our anniversary and it was lovely. We celebrated by sleeping in very late and then trying to find breakfast on the beach at two thirty in the afternoon, which was of course impossible. We settled for a light lunch on East Beach, where a day of junior life guard camp was wrapping up. So it was just the two of us and a good hundred and fifty kids in red swimsuits taking in the blue skies and smooth seas. Then we went to the zoo. Jeff told me after I took the above photo that he thinks there are too many pictures of him on the blog, which confirms my initial feeling that he should never have been told about said blog. I told him he was free to take a picture or two of me if he really must but I don't recommend it. (A photography writer on Slate recently wrote that he used to think he was unphotogenic but now he realizes he just looks like that. I can relate. This is not self pity. People have obviously found me attractive, so whatever. The animation of my features must add something. Anyway.) But he was catching me at inappropriate moments, hence the following:
Later I was able to pose for something nice:
I love the Santa Barbara zoo! All the exhibits are so tiny and intimate. The eight penguins were not only very friendly little guys who swam right up to us, but there was a zoo talk/feeding right when we arrived and as there were only something like ten or fifteen people there, we could hear just fine and ask as many questions as we wanted.
We also visited the giraffe with the broken neck, which is always a startling sight. Her neck has been like that for the four years we've been coming here, and she's given birth in that time. So it's not only not affecting her life too much, there are apparently male giraffes who are into that kind of thing.
It was a romantic day at the zoo. All the animals seemed to be paired up.
But it did bring something up that's been troubling me for a while. I think I hate children. Not nieces and nephews, of course. Heidi, Bryan, Elizabeth (Happy Birthday, Liz!), Sawyer and Luke, Andrew and Tony all were and are unreasonably adorable, intelligent small people. But the throngs of sticky, loud, drooling midgets who roam the zoos and beaches of the world, these are not attractive reasons to reproduce, which I assume is something I will one day do. I mean, for every Sawyer or Heidi there are like five of the icky slack jawed kids, so what are the odds I'll get a good one? And then if somehow I miraculously do get a good one, don't I, by law, then have to drop the beloved friends I currently have and start associating with other adults who have also rolled the reproductive dice? No way THEY all get good ones too. There's bound to be some overlap there. I don't know how this is supposed to work itself out.
Anyway, after the zoo we went for dinner at A.J. Spurs, a sort of cowboy themed steak house, for slabs o' meat and soup that comes out of a tin bucket. You can also get your lemonade in a boot shaped glass but I passed on that. I know what you're thinking but, really, it's awesome. We had a great time. The last four years have seriously just zipped by.