In addition to the numerous time sinks that I partake, planning vacations tops the favorites chart. A few hours of researching how to detail a car suffices, but travel planning takes days of in-depth study and hype. The internet and trusty, Mr. Frommer’s, aid this mission. Oh, and before someone calls me out, yes, I’m as bad as Jaime in Euro Trip. I love those books.
So, to get this bloggie running, here’s some planning usefulness from a recent trip with my husband.
During a darkening, cloudy day on Sanibel Island, my researching prowess led us to the Bailey-Matthews Shell Museum. Admittedly, there were ads on every brochure rack and in the hotel room binder. But, with the rainy day plans armed and ready, I avoided an obligatory morning in the hotel room saying, “I don’t know; what do you want to do?” Nuh-uh. Not us. We just flipped through the earmarked pages of my trusty travel companion and headed off to view mollusks.
Upon entering the museum, we were greeted by a school teacher volunteering as a guide. She chirped about the components of gastropods and pointed to her coloring-book-style worksheet. Actually, she was a wealth of shell knowledge and her caffeine-fueled enthusiasm piqued our interests before we were released into the museum.
I won’t divulge all of the museum’s treasures, but I have a few favorites. The video was interesting and informative. Take heed, the movie contains images of mollusks stranded in evaporating pools on the beach. As the puking shell creatures struggled on the screen, I hoped that the videographers would chuck them back into the receding waves. Sure scientists always quote some crap about how it’s natural, but come on, videographers. Start subversively saving wildlife when the scientists’ backs are turned. Viva la Revolution!
The sad plight of the poor widdle mollusks didn’t dampen the museum exhibits. We learned about interesting mollusk attacks that may wend into a future storyline.
I also discovered an alarming fact. Years ago, my father chased me at the beach with a slinky, spinal cord thing. The unknown sea life that my ancestor chucked at me was an egg casing. Ew! Savage!
And finally, there were several inspiring exhibits on Sailor’s Valentines. These intricately patterned shell mosaics are the souvenirs of yesteryear. They made me want to shellac things with shells. In fact, that evening, while waiting for sunset, I lazily made some shell artwork por mi amor. Poor little bivalves.
