From the Zoo to the Nines -- Jennie

“You don’t like animals, that’s why you’re not having a good time,” my nine year-old daughter tells me at the Portland Zoo on Saturday.

“I do,” I argue. “I like… um… butterflies.”

Daney gives me The Look: Just because I like butterflies does not mean I like animals.

“And.. . ladybugs,” I add. “Yeah! Ladybugs! They’re unbothersome—helpful, even.”

Daney is unconvinced.

So, I'm not the World Wildlife Fund's Member of the Year. (For totally understandble reasons, see this.)

But animals are not why I’m sitting on a concrete step by an abandoned crocodile tank. Rather, it's a lack of them. The few creatures that are actually in their exhibits have their backs to us. There are two zebra bottoms and a monkey tail or two. There are no bats. There is one snake (one, not plural, according to the the misprinted map). Most of the paths lead to blocked-off construction zones. Strollers are jammed against the new baby elephant’s fence.

Then there’s the food—rubbery, costly, and with the slowest order-to-table-time in Oregon's history. We dump our sad strips of blistery pizza and opt for elephant ears, which brings my seven-year old vegetarian to tears.

It’s hot. I’m tired. We drove five hours to get here. There is nothing to see, nothing to eat, and I’m wishing I brought my laptop to get a few words further on my YA thriller while the rest of my family checks out the construction tape and crows.

Until a seventeen year-old girl in heels smacks me in the face with her toddler’s mylar ball, making me realize: there are incredible creatures here! The unpredictable and amazing homo sapien! What wonder! I’m suddenly enthralled by teen mom-overwhelmedious, zoo keeper anti-socialus, and grandpa out-of-breathious.

Get the camera! Grab the notepad!

After some observation, we leave for Todai, a seafood buffet where my brother is our server. Over the cracking of my crab legs, I listen to the customers at the next table: huge fans of miso soupious —and I chuckle at two big guys in sports hats: dessert-bar and ice cream greedious.

“I like animals! I love them,” I tell Daney later, lounging on the pillowy bed at the sleek new Nines hotel.

There’s even more to study here: customer service put-outious, socialite tweenius, happy-hour/hair-frostedius.

“Mommy, you’re crazy!” Daney says.

I raise my eyebrows up and down. “Mommy: sleep-deprivedious, hoping for publicationus.”

Daney tosses a blue and brown pillow at me.

I catch it and tell her, “Let’s check out the animals in the fitness center!”