The Sonia Show

Warning: This show contains nerdy humor, cartoon violence and foul language.


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Let’s do this, Giants!

Yeah, so, the World Series starts today.

My team, the San Francisco Giants, is playing the Kansas City Royals. The Royals are a perfectly fine team that now must be destroyed. On the surface, the Royals are a tough team to hate. They haven’t won a championship in 29 years. If they were playing the Dodgers or the Cardinals in the World Series, I would probably root for them. But they’re not. They’re playing my team, so … you suck, Royals.

Let’s dig a little deeper and feed our anger, shall we? Kansas City, Missouri is home to the headquarters of Applebee’s. Did you know that? Applebee’s … BOOOOOOO! Also, the 1983 TV movie “The Day After” was filmed in Kansas City. That movie scared the shit out of my younger sister. She didn’t sleep for a week. Screw you, Kansas City! Don’t you just hate Wal-Mart? Sure, we all do. Well, the Royals are owned by the former president and CEO of Wal-Mart, and he’s a terrible person. True story. You can go to hell, Royals!

So, yeah, in 2010, mighty, mighty good man David and I went to the World Series, and it was awesome. In 2012, we watched the games at home, because instead of spending our money on super-cool fun stuff like World Series tickets we decided to have a baby. Wah wah. This year, I’m not 100 percent that we’re not going to go to the World Series. We are casually entertaining the idea, and we will be browsing Stubhub all week while debating it. Our debate will most likely end with us not going because World Series tickets are really expensive, and World Series tickets plus a babysitter are really, really expensive.

I’m fine with that. I just want to watch my team win the World Series. I don’t mind watching it from the comfort of my own home. It’s nice here. I have a perfectly formed groove in the couch after years of watching TV, and we have tasty beer here. I’m going to make ballpark food for dinner all week long: Nachos with super-processed cheese, peanuts, hot dogs and sundaes.

So anyway, stay tuned to my Twitter for all kinds of assy World Series related tweets and my Instagram for all kinds of photos of fancy beer that I will be drinking during the games. Also, I will post photos of me looking like this:

giantshat

But I will really look like this:

snackinggif


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The Super Bummer Power Hour

Yeah, so, Sunday nights are the night for truly depressing TV.

Why is that? Is that how we really want to start our week? “Breaking Bad” used to be on Sunday nights. “Game of Thrones” is on Sunday nights. “The Walking Dead” is on Sunday nights. Oh, and there’s “Sunday Night Football,” which is very upsetting to a large segment of our population.

Every Sunday, mighty, mighty good man David hides in another part of the house while I watch depressing TV shows. “Enjoy your Super Bummer Power Hour,” he says. And then I proceed to watch TV shows in which everything bad happens to the characters I like and the bad guys usually win. Wheeee!

Which brings me to “The Walking Dead” … As you know I have a love/hate relationship with “The Walking Dead.” Still, I watch it every week.

After every episode, David asks me how it was. My answers are usually:

1) It was kinda boring. They talked about their feelings the entire time.

2) It was good. This happened and that happened, etc. It was so gross!

3) It was sad and depressing, and I think might cry and/or vomit a little.

I don’t know why I put myself through this. I’d probably be a lot happier on Sunday nights if I didn’t watch “The Walking Dead.” Here’s the conversation David and I had after last night’s episode:

David: “How was “The Walking Dead?”

Me: “It was disturbing and dark and gross.”

David: “I spent my evening reading a good book with our dog at my feet while drinking a tasty beer.”

Me: “I make poor life choices.”

I’m going to start watching “Talking Dead” after “The Walking Dead.” I never watch it, but my friend told me it’s a good way to recover from the show. I know you watch “The Walking Dead.” How do you deal with how grim it is? Or how do you deal with any show that falls into that “Super Bummer Power Hour” category?

In other news that is not depressing, my team – the San Francisco Giants – is playing in the  World Series this week. No big deal.

giants

Yes! Yes! YES!


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Brewcation

Yeah, so, and now for the important stuff … the beer we drank on our vacation.

Our first brewery stop on our drive down the coast was El Toro Brewing Company in Morgan Hill. It wasn’t really part of our plan to check out this brewery. It just happened to be lunchtime, and we were near Morgan Hill, and I remembered there was a brewery in Morgan Hill.

El Toro has a really spicy beer on the beer list, but I was too afraid to try it, and I regret being such a pussy. Sorry. Instead, I had an oatmeal stout, because everyone knows an oatmeal stout in like 90-degree weather is awesome. Also, I didn’t take a photo of it, but I’m sure you can guess what a pint of oatmeal stout looks like.

Our next stop on our beer quest was Central Coast Brewing in San Luis Obispo. It was my birthday, so beer was required. It’s a smallish brewery. We can’t get their beer here in San Francisco, which is a bummer. We did a tasting flight, and as you can see from the photo, their tasting flight was a lot of beer.

centralcoast

We’ll have all the beer. Thanks, Central Coast Brewing in San Luis Obispo.

David and I split the flight, thankfully, because it was a lot of beer. David really loved the Catch 23, which is dark rye IPA, and Lucky Day, which is an IPA. My favorites were the Chai Ale, which is exactly what you think it is, and the bourbon barrel-aged oatmeal stout, because I am a complete sucker for those barrel-aged beers.

Oh, and be warned, they serve a big tasting flight, but there’s no food. Just bags of chips and stuff like that. So, if you go to the tasting room and you’re hoping to throw back some beer and eat, that’s not going to happen. However, there is a really good taqueria about a block up from the tasting room. We were pleased.

The next day we hit Firestone Walker Brewing. We were really excited to taste all their beer and watch the Giants game, BUT, they didn’t get FOX Sports 1, so there was no Giants game on. I know they don’t get FOX Sports 1, because it’s the first thing they told us when we walked through the door, because I was wearing my lucky Giants hat. Bummer.

It didn’t stop us from trying all the beer, though.

firestone

Firestone Walker Brewing – The Paso Robles Taproom & Restaurant

We started in the Firestone Walker Taproom Restaurant. I had a lot of favorites. I loved the Agrestic, which is a sour beer, and barrel-aged Velvet Merkin, because as I already mentioned, I’m a damn fool for barrel-aged beer. David loves their IPA, so their Double Jack was right up his alley.

After lunch, we moved to the tasting room next door, where I had the the Belgian quad Stickee Monkee. It reminds me of the Straffe Hendrik Quad I had in Belgium, which is one of my all-time favorite beers. I also had more the barrel-aged beer, because duh.

On Saturday, we went to Firestone Walker’s madlab, Barrelworks, which is where they create their experimental beers. In other words, it was a barrel-aged beer and sour beer. Sonia heaven!

Cool photo by David

Cool photo by David

We loved this place so much. I wanted to pack my bags and move in. There wasn’t a bad beer on the list. They were all complex and interesting and delicious. They had sour beer. They had bourbon barrel-aged beer. They had beer and wine blends. They had beer aged in wine barrels, beer aged in oak barrels. You guys, they had a tequila barrel-aged beer! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Tequila and I used to be really good friends, but we don’t talk anymore, because it always ended badly for me. The beer is called Velvet Añejo, and it’s amazing. Stupid tequila … I can’t stay mind at you.

barrelworks

Dark and light at Barrelworks.

David’s favorite at Barrelworks was probably the Bretta Weisse, a Berliner-style wheat beer. It was so light and refreshing. He was super disappointed that there were no bottles to buy.

So, Barrelworks was so great, which made Figueroa Mountain Brewing, our next stop, kind of a disappointment. We went from these complicated, tasty beers to just regular ol’ beer. David and I each got a tasting flight. David did the IPAs, and I went to the dark side. The IPAs were good, but the stouts and porters were a letdown. The Danish Red Lager was pretty OK, and coincidentally, that’s the beer that had just won the Gold Medal at the Great American Beer Festival that very day.

figueroabrewing

Figueroa Mountain Brewing.

 

I was disappointed in the beer, but the brewery seemed nice, and they had the Giants game on. Still, we didn’t stick around very long. Plus, it turned out at the Giants were playing the game that would never end. The game went 18 innings, and we watched and listened to it all day long.

So, that’s all the beer we drank on our vacation. Seems like a downer way to end this post, so I’ll just put this photo of me in my happy place here.

barrels

They don’t call it the Barrelworks for nothing.

If you want to read about all the other stuff we did on our vacation, click riiiight here. And if you can’t get enough of beer talk, you can follow me and mighty, mighty good man David on Untappd, where we rate all our beer all the time.


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Everything you wanted to know about my vacation but were afraid to ask

Yeah, so, sleeping in was everything I remembered.

Mighty, mighty good man David and I have returned from our four-day vacation to San Luis Obispo, which is surrounded by lovely beaches and fabulous wineries – none of which we visited. So, if you were hoping for a blog post about wineries and sunburns, this isn’t the blog post for you. Instead, all we did was eat, drink beer and check our MLB apps to find out the score of the Giants games. Oh, and we spent quality time together and talked about our feelings blah blah blah.

OK, so, since I think everything in my life is so fascinating, and that you guys are just aching to know every detail, I’m breaking my vacation blog summary into two posts. This first post will be all food, the hotel and touchy-feely crap about how much I missed my Spawn. The second post will be the one about beer (i.e. the one you probably really care about). Sequels are always better than the originals, folks.

The first order of business for our vacation was to ditch The Kid, so we dropped him off with my mom. I was expecting tears, but instead he gave us a good-bye wave as he took Homer for walk with Grandma. My mom would later report to me that Calvin didn’t cry at all and that he didn’t ask about us. Umm, thanks? I didn’t cry like the last time I was away from Calvin for more than a day. I did, however, text my mom twice a day, and check Facebook more than I should in the hopes that she would post photos. And she did.

My mom took Calvin to visit his Great Grandma, and he decided her little garden pond is a great pool.

My mom took Calvin to visit his Great Grandma, and he decided her little garden pond is a great pool. FYI: He does not appear to have the West Nile virus … yet.

In San Luis Obispo, we stayed at the Madonna Inn, which is known for uniquely decorated rooms. For example, there’s a Caveman room. No, really, there’s a Caveman room. Since we were staying four nights, they recommended splitting up our stay, so we did two nights in the Barrel of Fun room, and two nights in the Old World room.

The Barrel of Fun room is big with a lot of natural light. It isn’t very wacky. There is a rock shower, and the walls are glittery. Also, that room boasts a heated toilet seat. Oh la la. Plus, it is a little more removed from the other rooms, so it was very quiet. It was a nice way to start our vacation.

Barrel of Fun room.

Nothing screams “Barrel of Fun room” like a lady sitting on a couch quietly reading “Gone Girl” on her Kindle while a lone balloon lingers above her head.

The Old World room is dark, and it’s mostly rock. There was a lot more noise. We could hear the people around us, but it wasn’t too bad. The room is so dark that I had no trouble sleeping. In fact, it was the room I slept best in, and I was able to sleep in, and it was heaven.

Old World room.

Old World room.

The Old World room has a waterfall rock shower, meaning the water trickles down the rocks for you to shower. I thought it was pretty cool, but I know the novelty would wear off pretty quick, and I’d crave a regular shower with modern-day water pressure after a few days. Still, it’s pretty nifty.

Both rooms are really nice, and it’s a comfortable hotel with excellent service, but I think I prefer the Old World room. Probably because it’s more wacky, and if you’re doing to stay at the Madonna Inn, you might as well go full wacky.

For my birthday on Thursday, we had got massages and then had dinner at the hotel steakhouse, because David knows how to spoil me.

Birthday dinner date!

Birthday dinner date!

The dinner was just OK, but the dessert was delicious. Everyone told me that I had to try the pink champagne cake. That’s the thing to get. Everyone was not wrong. It’s really, really good. In fact, all the baked goods are kind of amazing. We ate bear claws and cinnamon rolls every morning. One afternoon we ordered cake to-go and sat in the Old World room and stuff our faces listening to the Giants game on the MLB app, because we really know how to live.

The pink champagne cake is 3,457 Weight Watchers Points.

The pink champagne cake is 3,457 Weight Watchers Points.

We did a sunset tour of Heart Castle on Friday, which I highly recommend. I have never been to Hearst Castle, so I cannot compare the evening tours with the regular tours, but getting to see this mansion and its beautiful views at sunset was pretty damn awesome.

Amazing photo by mighty, mighty good man David.

Amazing photo by mighty, mighty good man David.

FYI: The evening tour features actors dressed in vintage clothing pretending to be guests – and sometimes they interact with you. Wheeee! Honestly, I tried to avoid eye contact, because I’m a socially awkward weirdo, but they really wanted to interact with me. With my red hair and glasses, I look like I’m wearing a costume, too. A woman in maid outfit told me that my dress from Paris arrived and asked if she should lay it out on my bed. I thought about acting like a diva: “Don’t touch my dress from Paris!” and then I’d slap her face. Instead I went for the “That would be lovely – thank you” because I’m all dignified and polite and shit.

Oh, and there is a really important detail I must share with you: They sell snow globes in the Heart Castle gift shop. You’re welcome.

snowglobe

ROSEBUD!

We visited Solvang on Saturday, which is a Danish village in California. Sure why? Anyway, it’s all bakeries and cute, little shops. Also, it was 101 degrees, so we walked through the downtown, and then I was over it. Hot weather is not my bag, baby, so we drove to Pismo Beach, where it was much cooler. We walked along the pier just in time for the sunset. Not-so-interesting side note: Whenever I stop to look at a sunset, I say to myself, “It’s the sunset, stupid.” I also say “It’s the sunset, stupid” to myself whenever I sense there is a moment that I’m ignoring that I should be enjoying.

It's the sunset, stupid.

It’s the sunset, stupid.

So anyway, I figured that after four days of being away from me, Calvin would really miss me. David travels for work all the time, but I never leave. I was thinking I’m was going to get the big welcome that David gets when he gets from a business trip. How silly. Instead, The Kid ran right by me like I wasn’t even there to get to David. Figures. Don’t mind me, kid. I’m just the one that totally ruined my body to give you life, but that’s cool. After we got home, he gave me the cold shoulder for a few hours, but later he snuggled up on the couch with me. I guess that was his way of telling me I was forgiven for going on vacation without him.


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Tripping

Yeah, so, mighty, mighty good man David and I are taking our first vacation without The Kid. The last time we went on a trip just the two of us, it was our honeymoon, and we all know how that ended.

babywglasses

Spoiler alert! That’s not happening this time. We’re one and done. But I imagine you saw that image in the social media preview and thought, “HOLY SHIT! She’s knocked up again.” Sorry to disappoint you, my tens of readers. I’m sure you were looking forward to a whole, new slew of baby poisoning posts.

So anyway, two years ago, we took an amazing trip to Hawaii with Calvin, so hopefully he won’t mind if we got on one little trip without him.

hawaii

For our first toddler-free vacation we are heading down the coast and staying at the Madonna Inn, going on the night tour of Hearst Castle and visiting the Firestone Walker Brewery, because – duh – beer. And if that sentence sounded like I was bragging, it’s because I kinda was.

We’re going to leave Calvin at home with Homer. Homer is almost 13 years old. I think our dog is old enough to watch a three-year-old kid. I’m sure it will be fine. I mean, what could go wrong?

yogurt

I kid. Calvin and Homer are staying with my mom, and I’m sure they will be perfectly fine. However, there will be tears: him and me. While David has made several Calvin-free trips for work, I have been away from Calvin for exactly two nights about two years ago, and that’s it. And, after the first night, I called the next day sobbing, “What are you guys doing today?” I barely made it. I almost went home early. I have no doubt that I will text my mom a million times. “What are you guys doing now?” “Send me a photo.” I will miss My Boy terribly. At the same time, I’m really looking forward to sleeping in. I hope it’s everything I remember.


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Three

Yeah, so, my boy is three years old today.

These are the stickers we had made for Calvin's birthday this year.

These are the stickers we had made for Calvin’s birthday this year.

I know, right? THREE!

egg

Then.

Now.

Now.

We’re not planning anything too crazy for his birthday. He’s made it clear that crowds are not his bag. Maybe next year he will care that’s it’s his birthday. Right now, he probably thinks every day is his birthday. Spoiled kid.

Last year, we hosted a birthday party at home, which proved to be a little stressful.  Some people have asked me what his birthday party theme is. The theme “Small party: Let’s keep this simple, you guys.” I’m sure next year the theme will be Batman or something. This year, we are having pizza at the Skipolini’s in Clayton with the grandparents, great-grandparents, Michelle, Tony and his cousin Lucy. Small party – sticking to the theme. The Skipolini’s in Clayton has redone their outside seating. It’s really nice, and there’s a play area for kids. We did a test run a few weeks, and it went well, so we’re all set. Back when I lived in Concord, I picked Skipolini’s as my birthday dinner location. Now it’s going to be Calvin’s birthday spot.

I’ve written a lot about Calvin here. I refer to him as “The Spawn,” “The Kid,” “The Boy.” But ultimately, he’s My Boy, and he is a really good kid. I hope that comes across in my posts. He’s a sweet kid. He’s a funny kid. He likes to make people laugh, and he loves to laugh, too. He’s all about repeating everything we say right now. They call it “repeating,” but I like to think he’s working on his impressions. He’s very affectionate. He loves to give high fives and hugs. When all three of us sit on the couch together, he likes us all to sit really close together and squish him in the middle. Sometimes, when it’s just the two of us on the couch, he will reach out and hold my hand while watching “Curious George.”

I consider myself so lucky to have Calvin. He’s good people.

Happy birthday, Calvin! You are my favorite.

 


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I subscribed to Martha Stewart Living, and now I don’t even know who I am anymore

Yeah, so, I’m changing.

People told me this would happen, but I didn’t believe them.

I don’t mean “the change,” you guys. I’m not that old. I just mean, I’m different now.

I used to watch every TV show. Now I can talk to you about every TV show because I still read about them on nerdy TV websites, but I don’t watch those shows. I really only watch baseball, TCM and downer documentaries. I used to see a lot of movies, and I used to read a lot about movies. Now, I have no idea what movies are playing in the theaters, because Roger Ebert died, and then I let my subscription to Entertainment Weekly expire. As for music, well, I was never particularly cool when it came to music anyway, but I could at least identify top 40 hits. I can’t even do that anymore. Although, I am all about that bass, because I’m not made of stone, people.

It would be easy for me to blame these changes on The Kid. “Well ever since I had a baby, I’ve changed.” The truth is these changes started before I got knocked up. I got busy, and I stopped making time for these things. Instead I started making time for other interests (i.e. fancy beer, baseball, buying clothes I don’t need from ModCloth).

Speaking of, I’m currently sipping on Dogfish Head Punkin Ale, which I’m sure everyone can agree is one of the best pumpkin beers around.

punkinale

Also, have you watched the Netflix documentary “The Battered Bastards of Baseball?” You should. It’s awesome.

Oh, and, I’m totally smitten with my new yellow skirt from ModCloth. I bought another one in green.

yellowskirt

So, why am I writing about this? Well, it started with my niece Olivia, who is selling magazines to raise money for her school. Oh, that reminds me, you guys obviously like to read. You’re reading right now. You should subscribe to a magazine through this link. You are getting a magazine for cheap, and you’re helping out a public school. Plus, Olivia is a smart, awesome girl, and everyone should help this smart, awesome girl out by ordering a magazine.

ANYWAY, I clicked the link to order a magazine. I decided that I hate being out of the loop when it comes to entertainment, so I renewed my Entertainment Weekly. And then for some reason I subscribed to – wait for it – Martha Stewart Living.

Seriously.

What.

The.

Fuck?

I don’t even know who I am anymore.

I wanted a magazine that I could mindlessly flip through while Calvin is watching “Curious George.” Martha Stewart Living is one of those magazines that I flip through at the nail salon or in the Kaiser waiting room and think, “Oh, that looks neat. Oh, that seems easy. I could do that.” And then I don’t do any of the things I read about, but I had a good time flipping through the magazine.

I await your judgement in the comments.

 

 


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Downer documentaries

Yeah, so, as I’ve mentioned before, when mighty, mighty good man David travels for work it’s my time to watch downer documentaries.

David is in Amsterdam, which means our pirate friend is checking out the infamous Red Light District.

pirate-redlight

Since David’s trip is a weeklong business trip, I managed to watch two documentaries: one about breast cancer, and the other was about *cue dramatic music* muuuuurder. And yes, I’m super fun at parties.

The first documentary I watched was “Pink Ribbons, Inc.,” which is all about the commercialization of breast cancer. As a breast cancer survivor, I certainly had thoughts and feelings while watching it. The documentary explores the whole culture of breast cancer and singles out organizations such as Susan G. Komen and Avon that raise millions of dollars for breast cancer research but no one really knows where the money goes in the name of research, and not enough of the money goes into funding prevention and research into possible environmental causes. I’m pretty sure I got my breast cancer because either: 1) God hates me; or 2) Equal artificial sweetener.

So, I have often cringed at all the pinkwashing that goes on. Last year during Breast Cancer Awareness Month, I received a flyer for a local pizza place with a pink breast cancer ribbon on it, but no where on the flyer does it say it will donate proceeds to breast cancer organizations. The pizza place just assumes I will see the ribbon, think that is awesome and order a pizza. That’s just a local pizza joint. There are big corporations that do stuff like that. Don’t even get me started on the NFL. It’s gross.

Also, I learned that the company that makes my cancer treatment drug, tamoxifen, which blocks estrogen because I had an estrogen-positive cancer, also makes a pesticide that is estrogenic. Awesome. Obviously, I’m not going to stop taking tamoxifen out of some sort of misguided protest, but that’s pretty ridiculous. There are few instances mentioned in the documentary that are even more offensive. You should watch it.

There was one thing in the documentary that made me uncomfortable. There was a segment about the community of breast cancer survivors, and how it’s not cool to refer to yourself as “cancer warrior” or say that you are “waging a war on cancer.” The documentary claims by saying things like that you are demeaning the women who died from breast cancer; like we are suggesting that “well, those women just didn’t fight hard enough.”

I have used those terms. In the description of myself for this blog I say that I kicked breast cancer’s ass. When I was going through all my various surgeries, David drew this amazing cartoon for me, in which I was some sort of Breast Cancer Superhero. It was a lovely gesture, and it touched my heart. I still look at this drawing and get teary.

Cancer_Warrior

Did I mean to suggest that somehow women who died of breast cancer just didn’t fight hard enough? Absolutely not! Only a huge asshole would say something like that. Do any of the women who refer to themselves as breast cancer warriors mean to insinuate that women who have died are somehow weaker? Of course not. That would be awful.Do I think I’m really some sort of “breast cancer warrior” because I don’t have cancer anymore? Not really. I think I’m lucky. I’m SO DAMN LUCKY. Every day I realize how lucky I am. Breast cancer took my left breast, and that’s all, and I’m stoked that’s all it took. Lucky = me! I don’t think for one second, “Yeah, well, women who died of breast cancer just weren’t as awesome as me.” I mean, come on, no one thinks that, right?

I’m not comfortable telling women how they are allowed to talk about the breast cancer that they are dealing with. Hell, I’m not comfortable telling ANYONE how they are allowed to talk about a disease that they are dealing with. While I was going through all my surgeries, I made a ton of jokes that I’m sure other people would say are inappropriate. I was Carrot Top but my prop was breast cancer. That’s my way of dealing with it. The way you cope with an illness is very personal, and I think if women want to refer to themselves as “cancer warriors,” and talk about how they “battled” cancer, and it’s a war and they “kicked cancer’s ass,” go for it. Whatever works for you.

OK, so, October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and if you are looking to donate, Breast Cancer Action is a San Francisco-based group that seems to have their heads screwed on straight. They are behind the genius Think Before You Pink. That’s who I give my money to.

The second documentary I watched was “Captivated: The Trials of Pamela Smart,” which is currently on HBO. Smart was convicted of murdering her husband – more specifically, she was convicted of getting her teenage lover to murder her husband. If you think that sounds like the plot of the Gus Van Sant movie “To Die For” with Nicole Kidman, well, that’s because that movie is based on the novel that was inspired by Pamela Smart.

Smart’s trial was one of the first televised trials, and it was a media circus. This was pre-OJ Simpson. And even though this all took place in 199-91 I hardly remember anything about it. I was too busy being 20 to concern myself with some murder trial. It is a very interesting documentary about how the lure of fame can corrupt the legal process. After watching it, I thought, “She is most likely guilty; however, she totally didn’t get fair trial.”

Luckily, I can’t really relate to the documentary about murdering your husband, so this blog post isn’t going to get much longer. “OMG! Don’t you hate it when your teenage lover confesses to the police that he killed your husband because you asked him to? Ugh. That’s the worst!”

OK, enough about my bummer documentaries: I had a delicious beer tonight. Do you like pumpkin beer? Tis the season for pumpkin beers. Tonight I had the Almanac Heirloom Pumpkin, and it’s so good (and it’s completely responsible for any typos you find in this blog post). It’s not too pumpkin-y. Even if you don’t like pumpkin beer, you might like it. It’s not overpowering.

heirloompumpkin

Also, David gets home tomorrow, and The Kid and I snapped a little “let’s make funny faces, because it’s our last night with just the two of us” selfie.

claw


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Weekend warriors

Yeah, so, mighty, mighty good man David is in Amsterdam at a trade show for work (no legal pot or prostitution for him … or so he says), which means it’s just me and The Kid for a week. David has been traveling quite a bit for work recently, and during the week, The Kid and I have a pattern pretty locked down.

In other words, there’s a lot of this …

baseballwine

And this …

That's what you get for begging, Homer.

That’s what you get for begging, Homer.

The weekends are tougher. We always go on little adventures together, and when David isn’t here, he is sorely missed. Good thing good buddies, Jeff, Jess and Henry let us crash their Saturday outing to the Martinez shoreline.

boyswithaview

Buddies with a view.

After our stroll, we had lunch at a taqueria in downtown Martinez. Calvin isn’t super awesome in restaurants. He tends to act a fool, and we scarf our food down and leave. So I was hesitant, and I prepped Jess and Jeff, explaining that we (meaning The Kid and I) might make a hasty exit. Turns out, I was worried for nothing. We sat outside, and Calvin sipped his water, ate chips and pointed out every motorcycle that rode by. Also, why are there so many motorcycles in Martinez?

BONUS: On our way to the restaurant, a crazy man gave Calvin a dollar. The man was very insistent that Calvin take this dollar from him, saying something about how he never sees his kids. Umm, OK then. (FYI: We paid that dollar forward: giving it to a homeless person we walked by along the Embarcadero the next day.)

On Sunday, we parked around AT&T Park on the early side (around 10 a.m.), since there was an afternoon game, and we walked from the ballpark to the Ferry Building. The Giants were playing the Dodgers (the bad guys won, and the Giants lost – ugh!), and there were of a ton of fans walking around early before the game, but we were still able to secure a nice parking spot. We walked along the Embarcadero, which is one of our favorite things to do in The City. (Please take note that I showed incredible restraint here … I almost typed “one of our favorite things to do in Frisco” just to piss people off, but I totally didn’t … but I could have.)

So anyway, it’s a decent walk, especially for an almost 3 year old. It’s 1.2 miles. We look at the bay. We point out the boats and the Muni trains.  Once we get to the Ferry Building, we never go into any of the amazing restaurants or shops that are there. Although, sometimes I pick up a few things to go. Instead, we usually end up at the nearby Starbucks, because they have a restroom, and they have ceiling fans, which my kid thinks are the most fascinating thing in the world. We lucked out this time and got to sit in the cushy chairs. We did a “cheers” with our drinks and ate our Starbucks snacks and talked about the ceiling fans.

starbucks

Ahhh, this is the life.

When we finished our drinks, it was time to go, but Calvin had feelings about leaving. He wasn’t ready. I put into a play a little tip that had been shared with me. I put a visual timer on my phone (the app is actually called Kid Timer). Basically, it’s a stopwatch with colors. So, I set it for 3 minutes, and I said, “When the green is gone, it’s time to go, OK?” I reminded him a few times, and when the time was up, he hopped off the chair and said, “Bye, bye, fans.” It was like magic. Calvin is a sweet kid with an awesome sense of humor, but transitions are tough for him. However, if you give him a heads up about what’s next, he’s more cooperative. I think this timer is going to improve the quality of our lives.

We left the Starbucks, and we didn’t walk too far before I realized that we walked too far. From the ballpark to the Ferry Building and back to the ballpark wasn’t an issue when we had the stroller, but we don’t use the stroller that much anymore, and I certainly hadn’t brought it this time. Calvin was tired, and he wanted to be carried, and we were still really far from the car. Calvin is WAY too heavy to be carried that far. Lucky for me, right by the Ferry Building, all the pedicabs were lined up. One of the riders said, “Need a ride to the game?”

“Nope, but we need a ride to our car, which is right by the ballpark.”

And that’s how Calvin and I ended up taking our first-ever ride in a pedicab. I wish I had taken a photo of Calvin during the ride. I don’t think his smile could have been any bigger. It made me think that I should get a bike with a seat for The Kid, but I’m not sure I would really ride it that much. I love the idea of it, though.

So anyway, Calvin and I made it through the weekend! David gets home Wednesday, and we can’t wait.

Get down for what.

Get down for what.

 

 

 


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License to ill

Yeah, so, during my morning commute to work I usually spend my time drinking coffee and trying to perfect singing along to Iggy Azalea’s “Fancy,” because I am so fancy. You already know.

While stopped at a red light the other day I saw a license plate frame that said, “Don’t Kiss Me. I’ll Get Hurt.” I tried to snap a photo, but it didn’t turn out very well.

license-plate

Also, please note I was not driving. We were stopped. Completely stopped. I don’t text and drive, I SWEAR. Stop judging me. Ugh. You people are the worst.

So, anyway, what the hell does “Don’t Kiss Me. I’ll Get Hurt” mean? I did some googling, because I thought maybe it was a song lyric or a movie quote that I didn’t know about. My search turned up nothing. You know what that means, right? It means people are putting their personal issues on license plate frames now.

I wish people were doing that when I was dating. It would have made things a lot easier. I would have deleted my OK Cupid profile and gotten a license plate frame that said, “My dad never tells me he loves me.” Then I would cruise around and look for a man with a “Nothing I do is ever good enough for my mom” license plate frame. It would have saved me countless awkward dinner dates and follow up emails explaining why there wouldn’t be a second awkward date.

Right now my license plate frame says, “I’d rather be eating tuna.” It’s from Da Poke Shack in Hawaii, and mighty, mighty good man David bought it because he thinks it’s hilarious that his wife drives a car with a license plate frame that says, “I’d rather be eating tuna.” Get it? Because tuna is slang for pussy, and David thinks it’s funny that his wife is driving around with a license plate frame suggesting she would rather be eating pussy. Hilarious.

What would your personal issue license plate frame be? Also, if you have any insight into “Don’t Kiss Me. I’ll Get Hurt” I’d love to hear it.

 

 

 

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