As I may have mentioned, I was recently invited to the San Diego Zoo (thanks, Mel) to preview the new Elephant Odyssey exhibit, and as I also may or may not have mentioned, I don’t know yet how to incorporate “PR” content into my blog, so as I am wont to do, I wondered agonizingly how to write about my trip to the zoo (DISCLAIMER: which was free, with cocktails, and a party, and food, and friends, and also agog with kids, including my own, that I lost parental sight of on a regular basis, thank God for my husband, for whom I am working on creating a name for that means “Blog Husband” (Blogby? Husbog?) because he watches stuff like my kids while I am off doing important bloggy things such as drinking wine with Sugar) while not sacrificing my “editorial” integrity (those quotes should probably instead be around “integrity”).)
Yes. That was all one sentence.
Well. As I was hemming and hawing and doing what I do, the perfect answer dropped into my lap. It just plopped right down in my face, so obvious, so BIG, I could not ignore it. I mean, my epiphany was so large, I could almost smell it.
Of course! As anyone knows, poo is the way to my heart. I love saying it, contemplating its many virtues, and randomly injecting it into conversation. “Poo.” It’s so perfectly immature. And that’s when I knew. If the San Diego Zoo gives out swag frames made out of real poo, I could not not write about my visit. (I do not accept all poo offers, like when The Rock called me into the bathroom last week, saying “You have GOT TO see this!”) (So if you have a legitimate poo product for consideration, please email me before sending samples.)
In all seriousity (thanks to MOFM for the new word), the Elephant Odyssey won me over. All 7.5 acres, $45 million, four-years-in-the-making parts of it. Also, despite my love for poo, I’m a respectable history and factoid girl, so I loved that the exhibit focused on animals that roamed Southern California 12,000 years ago and shows their living relatives today, including a herd of elephants. Also, there are life-size statues of extinct animals that used to live in the area, although The Rock and I arguscussed the fact that this tiger is life-size. My awesome point? This is a world class zoo, they’re not going to depict something factually inaccurate, dumb head (I love you, Hublog!).
A prehistoric tiger. One of the many reasons I’m glad I wasn’t a cavewoman. (Most of these pictures were taken and provided to me by Tonya. The red-headed moppet is her daughter.)
In addition, did you know that elephants grow six sets of molars and when a set wears down from grinding food, another set grows to replace it and when the last set is gone, elephants can no longer chew and so die (at about 60)? I love data like that, sans dying elephants.
After viewing animals, learning facts, falling in love with an erstwhile British professor (my Achilles lust heel) who shared elephant info, and repeatedly losing my children, we came upon the Sabertooth Grill, where there was a steel band playing, food, drink, and this “sheetah”, who scared the hell out of my husband (blogsband? blubby? someone help me) when he reached for a wrap and she came alive to hand it to him.
I don’t know why I’m picking on The Rock so much today, other than he’s not here to defend himself and I’m sick of laundry and feisty. Also it makes me laugh when he is afraid of anything (like alligators. he’s super scared of alligators) because he is so “Rockish” in his mental and emotional constitution and nothing much fazes him, so when something does (like cruise ships. he doesn’t like cruise ships. too much water), it is funny.
So the zoo! Right.
If you’d like more normal recaps of the Elephant Odyssey experience, I’m sure one of these less weird ladies will have one up on their blogs.
Oh! And join me later as I provide a tutorial on how to act like a VIP at events like the above. Brief preview: Insist on being called “The Countess de San Diego Momma,” and when you forget your camera’s memory stick at home, wear it around your neck anyway and pretend to take pictures. Bonus tip: If a rumpled English professor arrives to speak about elephant conversation and stuff like that, listen intently and make kissy faces.