The Exploratorium

I love that.

I love the simplicity and the complexity.

I love the questions.

I love laughing while I'm wondering.

The fact that Feynman was in a math class at City College with Daddooooo 

(or so the story goes...) 

and scored 100% on an exam the rest of the class failed, thus ruining the curve, 

only adds to the joy.

That's kind of the point of The Exploratorium.  

Artess is delighted that we enjoyed ourselves; 

she's been involved with the place since our kids were teeny.  

The fact that my boys were enjoying themselves even as adults

was exactly what the creators of this new, wonderful, waterfront space had in mind.

There's something for everyone inside the repurposed piers.  

There's art from cutlery

(yes, those are spoons) 

on the walls as you wait to purchase tickets.

Or, if you have a connected young adult in your midst, you can buy the tickets over your phone.

It was funny watching his expression change as I reminded him that two of us were seniors.

"I keep forgetting that you're old," was what he said.

I think that's a good thing.

The exhibits are interactive.

Big Cuter smoothed then spiraled the sand in a very satisfying way.

The girl on the other dial was using a flatter edge, but was equally mesmerized.

The exhibits challenge your perceptions and explain the world in exuberant ways.

We stood in front of this contraption for quite some time

It doesn't seem possible, does it?

The explanation comes when you press the red STOP button.

It's welded together.

Brother, if you are reading this please consider creating one for me.  

You are the best tinkerer I know.

In fact,there's a tinkering lab which looked like a fabulous place to while away a cloudy afternoon. 

Many of the old favorites still exist.

The line to try the gyro-chair was filled with giggling 4th graders; the apron clad docent would dissect a cow's eye on Wednesday; the pendulum-cum-spirograph would be available at noon. 

I was glad to see that FlapJilly will get to enjoy some of the same things her Mommy did when she was a little girl. 

As we sat in the world's most comfortable rocking chairs, I allowed that fantasy to wash over me. That's another thing which hasn't changed about The Exploratorium - the many comfortable resting places for grown-ups who are watching little ones learn.

It's a very thoughtful space.

It's an expensive place, too.... 

but we felt as if we'd gotten our money's worth within the first 15 minutes.  

It's not often that I can type that.

San Francisco Sunshine

After the long weekend we spent in San Francisco, Tucson feels very small.

*****

Doesn't this look like a bank?

Our banks are in the corners of parking lots, 

and there's no way to distinguish them from the drive-thru taco shops except for the signs.

Those pillars are bank-like.

*****

I met up with Miss Nancy at The Ferry Building.

Sharon McCone always comes to mind when I'm walking in that neighborhood;

Marcia Muller's detective always seems to be walking out of her office at the end of the pier.

*****

Now, it's a much trendier space than that occupied by McCone Investigations, Inc.  

I waited in front of this sign.

Inside, there were Pig Parts and Slow Fast Food and Creamery Girl cheeses.  

There were oysters and crabs, coffee roasteries and bakeries.

Some of it was do it yourself.

*****

There was more, much much more, denizens, but traveling has left me exhausted and in need of some time alone with my roses. 

So, I will leave you with this quote from an exhibit at The Exploratorium, 

and its proof:

hat and onesie courtesy of MOTG and Gr'mu

San Francisco

TBG and I flew to the Left Coast this morning. Our plans include his visit to the orthopedist who repaired his knee two decades ago, a visit during which I spent a lovely couple of hours talking with Bunionella.

 

The clinic is in The Marina, right on the shore of San Francisco Bay. It's also across the street from a Safeway. The combination of take away foodstuffs and a bench in the shade was irresistible; we grabbed lunch and ate by the sea.

 

I'm starved for water it seems. I couldn't stop watching it sloshing against the moored yachts. I wish I had taken a photograph. I was too busy being in the moment.

 

I did take these as we tried to find a garbage can for our lunch trash.

 

I noticed the punching bag first. With the breeze and the sea air and the sunshine it seems like a perfect location....except that it's right on the main drag. Privacy must not be important.

 

TBG waxed eloquent over this boxwood hedge.

 He loves the clean, geometric lines of a formal garden. Unfortunately for him, he's married to a free form gardener.  There's not much rigid symmetry in my cultivating scheme.

 

As if we needed a reminder of why we love this city, we stumbled upon this workout center amidst the grass of Marina Green.

There were two women using the bumps and the steps and doing crunches and other floor exercises on the soft cushioned surface. We bounced as we walked over to the mounted equipment,

which came with instructions.

Had we been wearing the appropriate suite we'd have joined right in.

 

There will be eating and sightseeing and more eating and there will be much hugging of our eldest child. Come back on Monday for some more of our adventures.

A Sunny San Francisco Saturday

That's almost an oxymoron.  We awoke in Tiburon, and there was no fog.  We drove across the Golden Gate Bridge and there was no fog.  We picked up Big Cuter and drove to the Marina and there was no fog.  I began to wonder if I was really in Baghdad by the Bay.  Remember Mark Twain's "the coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco"?  Saturday put the lie to that.  Big time.  

We sat at the Marina,

on a bench looking out 

 at Marin in the distance

and the Yacht Club

  and the Golden Gate Bridge.

 The old light house is a reminder that we are not the first people to watch ships enter the Bay.

 They might have seen this building,

 or this building, built after the Great Fire, 

but probably not this 1950's modern.

 It's a ritzy neighborhood, with golden doors

but it is San Francisco, so politics is everywhere.

These signs were in all the windows facing the view.

I guess they don't want it spoiled by diners. 

It's hard to argue with that logic, when this is what they see.

There were runners and strollers and puppies and parents and bicyclist, including this kid who won the award for best helmet, ever.

I wanted to see the sculpture exhibit at Crissy Field, so we sent Big Cuter back to retrieve the car.

I'm walking better these days, but not that much better.

We drove under the construction for the new approach to the Golden Gate Bridge

 and drove past the Mark di Suvero masterpieces.

 

There were eight of them, one more ginormous and intricate than the rest.

We ended our adventure at Smitten Ice Cream, made in a Kelvin with liquid nitrogen and presented in a repurposed storage container.

It was a perfect San Francisco day.

Art in The Haight

I need color in my life.  I need expressions of opinion emblazoned on street corners. I need some San Francisco and I need it now.  So, while my brain reels and my hip aches, my mind and I are puttin' some flowers in our hair.

We're hanging in The Haight. 

Years ago,  G'ma and Daddoooo stayed at this hotel, at the entrance to Golden Gate Park, with The Haight up behind them.  

 "It was different," was as judgmental as they got.

I'd have to agree.  we've got nothing like this in Tucson.

Who needs neon, anyway?

I love that the temporary fence on the right has decorations, too.

 For a moment, from the back seat of our Zip Car, those two under the OPEN sign looked real.

Are there words in there?  Action figures?  The aftermath of an explosion?

Some of it was creepy, but there was a line outside this pancake house in spite of the ghoul on the wall.

The political graffiti was inspiring. 

This woman with the sign in her face was much loved in the neighborhood...

or so said the wall.

Even the pocket parks are fun.

Don't get me wrong.
I love Tucson.
It's just that sometimes, every once in a while, when the mood strikes,
only San Francisco will do.

Golden Gate Park

Every city has its oddities. 

San Francisco has bison

They live in Golden Gate Park, just beyond the windmill. 

Yes, there's a windmill... actually, there are two windmills... at the ocean end of Golden Gate Park.

It's a wonderfully San Francisco kind of place.

 Look at that map. 

Those are road, and lakes, and polo fields.

There are swales for picknicking and trails for running.

There are trees to be admired and blossoms to be smelled.

Even the weeds made me smile.

Sitting on a bench,

watching the world go by, with this as the backdrop,

 we took pictures of all sorts of different kinds of humans, with their cameras, making memories for them to take home. We watched doggies drink from their own sized fountain

and watched TBG wash bird poop off his leg.

We were amazed by the bubbles these people were creating.

I, of course, have plans to replicate this.

I paid close attention to their technique.

 No matter how old you are, 

it's still fun to see if the balloon will make it all the way across the road without bursting.

Directly across Spreckles' Lake were these two gentlemen.

They were using remote control to maneuver their sailboats .

It was mindlessly peaceful to watch. 

 As the world seems to descend deeper and deeper into a morass of horrible, loud noises,

turn off the news reports and 

sit beside us,

on the bench.

It's a lovely place to be.