backtracking: my tiny San Francisco adventure {and epiphany}

A few weeks ago, mr. a-go-go and I drove up the coast to San Francisco. I had a weekend conference to attend and he was going to play catch up with the danny-boy and this nifty maker of things.

Because we lean towards the broker side of the spectrum, and because mister has a job that does not offer time off and because well..because we are hermit-like in our ways, we were only able to stay for two nights and so, we had two hours or so free to explore a smidgey-smidge of the city (both Saturday and Sunday would be full of conferencing for me). I wrote previosuly that we had ice-cream and well...that was about all we did.

The conference was all me, it had nothing to do with work, just me and my love of all things Froebel. I gave the mister puppy eyes back in February when I realized it would be happening somewhat locally and so made it my birthday gift. I had originally got all pie-in-the-sky dreamy with the idea of an early morning adventure in the city where I could photograph china town and pretty pastel Victorians. I could visit sweet little shops and taste sweet little pastries and take more pictures of all sorts of pretty. The reality however was that the only way I could accomplish said dreamy adventure would be to leave stupid early on Friday morning (say 3am) so that I could be in the city proper for magic morning hour light. Mister was slightly okay with that idea but I could see the smidge of worry that that lingered in his eyes. I decided that we would wake up and leave when we woke up and were ready. That was that. And once I put that into my head, I began researching niftiness near our motel. It was a long shot but there had to be something (hence the ice cream). I got so caught up in finding the right kind of place to visit and photograph  that I lost sight of the magic of wandering and seeing the pretty in the everyday. Before the internet we just got up and went and discovered what was around the corner. Now, with the internet you try to find all that pretty that someone else found for you thus losing that magic moment of quirk when what was around the corner was amazing.  I needed to readjust.

And so, I took a deep breath and let it all go. I only wrote down the address to Humphrey Slocombe's and the address to a pho place super close to the motel. With the limited time that we had it all worked out. We had some decent ice cream, awesome pho, and enjoyed a walk in San Francisco that was full of color. It might not have been the pretty that I had dreamed of but it was vibrant and rich and all was simple and sweet. Sure we stayed at a chain motel near the airport that was surrounded by freeway and train tracks but the room was clean, the bed mostly comfortable and the free breakfast was dandy. Mister could walk to the bus stop that would lead him to his visiting and I could drive myself to the conference without too much hullabaloo. It might have taken me fifteen minutes to figure out how to use the shower but in the end I did AND I got to laze about on a king sized bed watching the remake of Piranha while enjoy the largest coldest coke in the land. Dreamy-land be damned, you should always look on the bright side of life.

a return to spooners cove

 From wave watching to shell searching, stone piling and stone skipping, to plopping down on the rocky beach to simply sift through all that magic, Spooners Cove is definitely a favorite place to visit. We mostly hit it up when we have guests as there is enough to entrance most anyone. This time, to switch things up, we decided to hit it at sundown. Most people think that the beach is a summer destination so they are usually surprised by the grey, grey, grey that welcomes them when they venture to Spooners Cove. The time to hit up our central coast beaches is winter. Winter is when the skies are blue and the sun shines...sure it isn't warm and there might be rain but winter at the beach is a favorite a-go-go thang. Just before sundown, we were greeted with the evening fog bank as it rolled in to kiss the beach. The drive was lovely,  the air cool but not cold and the beach was just about empty save for us, two fishermen, a lady and a dog. Bring on the rock sorting, cliff climbing and flashlight flashing!

 

 

 

 

i jumped right in...

there's no going back now...snip! snip!

adventures {and maybe perhaps a few too many rootbeer floats}

 My most favorite people came to visit for the weekend and we had quite the lazy adventure!

On Friday we played in the coastal fog at our favorite cove, hunted for heart-shaped rocks and hunkered down for burgers and floats at a favorite burger joint.

 

 

 

 

Saturday...we hit up the farmer's market for some breakfasty goodness, a most amazing watermelon and perhaps a little eye-bombing. Afterwards there was a wander under centuries old oaks, tree-climbing and lichen sighting. After a home assembled lunch, gloves were donned and dry ice was had as mr. a-go-go played science teacher. Before the sun set, we bundled up and drove to Santa Margarita for a lazy bridge happening before trekking up an unassumingly steep hill for some perseids action but not before we stopped for some ice cream. It was pretty great!

 

 

 Sunday was a lazy day of boardwalk wandering, anemone poking, tea sipping, and apple tasting. After another home assembled dinner we enjoyed rootbeer float slushies, aftter that books were read and tucking ins happened. Before us grown-ups settled in for the night we partook of  boozy drinks and perhaps a chick flick mixed in with conversation.

 

Monday was a flurry of packing up and goodbye hugs but not until after donuts were had, more visiting happened, floats and freezes were enjoyed, and a pyramid photo op was accomplished. It just may very well have been the best weekend ever!

They're safely tucked away at home now but golly, I miss them already!

screaming for the ice cream; wherein we prefer Scoops

Fosselman's even more so if you like your ice cream straight up. But I suppose I'm starting in the middle here so allow me to backtrack. Mister and I spent last weekend in San Francisco. It sounds like the makings of a lovely adventure however I should be frank and tell you that mister spent the weekend in San Francisco while I spent the weekend in South San Francisco in a conference room by the airport. Don't get me wrong, I was excited about the conference (it was awesome!) and it was all my choice but I was still a little bent out of shape that we were unable to extend our stay so that I could have a San Francisco wander. This is the part where being brokity broke kinda suckity sucks.

We took the long way and drove up the coast stopping to enjoy the pacific breeze, stretch our legs and put the p-style to good use. We arrived in the SF area with about two hours to kill and the closest thing to our airport motel that I had the address for was Humphry Slocombe's which seems to be enjoying a lot of pomp in the blogging world as of late. How do you think I came about having the address?

 

We found a spot on a side street that allowed us to park sans permit and hefted up our backpacks full of cameras and other techie gadgets and hit the street for a wander, looking every bit the tourist and yet not much different than how we look when we wander at home. I felt rushed to capture my mere moments in the city and so snapped pictures all willy nilly.

Once at the shop we were delightfully greeted by a counter girl or two and opted to share a cup with two scoops. We chose salted chocolate and vietnamese coffee. The scoops are on the small side though the flavors were full and creamy. The salted chocolate a bit more salty than others we have tried while the coffee was delicious. We thought our hometown Scoops offered up a more intriguing variety in a more laidback setting and so we shrugged and thought eh and went on.

We were also double charged. Not cool.

a coffee catastrophe

Yesterday morning I enjoyed a nap. The kind that only happens moments after you wake up on a sunny summer morning. The kind where you can tell the day is going to be warm even as the cool breeze sneaks in through the cracks of your cheap rental blinds. It makes for a wonderful morning snooze.

The mister leaves around 6am for his long, long ten hour day. He bikes to work so when he comes in for his goodbye kiss the ssszip. sszip, sszip of his ultra blue windbreaker clues me in that he is about to leave. On mornings such as this, these breezy summer mornings, I roll over on my back, stretch and weigh my options. If I have to work I may doze for another 20 minutes or so and if I don't, I lay (lie?) there in the dim light biding time and planning the day. If the breeze is beckoning, I will lean over to open the blinds of the window, inviting that breeze in for a visit. Yesterday morning, I did just that and by the time the mister's bike bell jingled past the tiny casa I was in snoozeland.

After my mini nap I woke up to get a jump start on the day as favorite peoples are coming to visit. I  trotted out to the kitchen all sleepy eyed and mushroom-pajama clad and decided to prep the iced coffee concentrate I have been working on. Perhaps it was my still-slumbering hands or perhaps I miscalculated some sort of distance-to but either way I managed to not only drop or dump, but THROW the stainless steel press-pot of coffee concentrate and coarse grounds into the depths of my tiny fridge. It was as if I were an avant-garde painter of the fifties and needed to create a canvas of extraordinary force. KABLAM...art.

Once I felt the stainless surface slipping from my grasp I made the decision that since I was going to have to clean up a colossal mess anyway, why bother preventing it from happening and so I stood and observed the masterpiece as it happened. And. It. Was. EPIC!

There was a coffee brown splatter swathed across the refrigerator left to right and up and down. As if I toss the coffee outward while working on my trinity...father...son...you get the picture. For texture there were coarse grounds peppered across any and all surfaces not unlike the glitter one sees jazzing up the saint shrines from the Day of the Dead. It was so epic it could be called Dada. I stood there in my mushroom pajamas, cold, cold coffee pooling at my wide feet, left hand holding the door of the fridge open, right hand cupping my chin, framing it for the "oh *$&%?#@" moment that it was. And I stood there for more minutes than I should have as I assessed and worked on shaking the angries because what was the point?

And so...I laughed. I chuckled. I guffawed. And then I got to work.

I also broke the press pot and so now there is no coffee concentrate. No coffee at all. Sigh. At least the fridge is clean....oh...and I do have coffee ice cubes.