ST. FRANK :: day three

Why do I feel obligated to tell you everything about our trip? I don’t know. Rabid popular demand? Nope. Chemical compulsion? Perhaps. Or maybe I just got a record-keeping gene.

A friend told us that the 2 things we ought to do before having a baby were:

:: Sleep a lot.

:: Go to a lot of movies.

Day Three involved both of those, kicking off with a morning of the kind of epic Sleeping In that would make Virgil and Homer proud. Then it was another chocolate milk and croissant breakfast before hitting the MUNI. The MUNI, for the unacquainted, is a bit like the NY Subway, only less comprehensive, far less convenient, and full of more homeless hustlers (No, really. And these guys were relentless pros. Not pictured for obvious reasons.)

We took the MUNI out to the Haight, making High School Paul very, very happy. (Hippie Headquarters in the 60s, Home of the Grateful Dead)



We strolled up and down the Haight, making stops at, among heaps of others:
:: (drool) Amoeba Records, the best and most overwhelming record store around.
:: The Pork Store, home of some serious, comfort-fooded second breakfast. Thanks again, Pat.
:: A bunch of bohemian, hippie, hipster, thriftster, spendster stores, where we found a hat for Holly and a long-looked-for black hoodie for me. You’d be surprised just how stringent the guidelines are for such a thing.

Jason picked us up, took us to get our luggage and to see Grace Cathedral a few times (inside joke + Red House Painters reference = uncensorable), and then we picked up Mandy. Jason, my college roommate and a former SF resident, and Mandy, his wife, were kind enough to show us around for a few hours. We were lucky to get to spend some time with them, as the Bridge School weekend usually passes by like a flash.

We went to the Golden Gate Bridge. It’s beautiful and amazing despite it’s tourist magnetism.

This is me trying to get a picture of the Bridge on the way there. Not exactly Ansel Adams. Or "ordinary guy with decent reflexes and rudimentary knowledge of photography" for that matter.



And some successful ones. Depending how liberal your definition of successful gets.




We took pictures from the hills/mountains of Marin. Notice Holly’s new hat and my new sweatshirt. Some may also note that the baby finally “popped” during our week in San Francisco. Crazy.






OK. That's probably enough of the bridge. Not exactly the best self-editor in the world, am I?

I wanted to see ocean cliffs. And, oh, did we see ocean cliffs.






I wanted to see Golden Gate Park. We saw Golden Gate Park. But didn’t take pictures. We also neglected to take pictures with Mandy & Jason. Oh well. How about another picture from the cliffs?



We met up with cousin Dave in Jason’s old stomping grounds, The Mission, for some French food, vernacular debates, and “pies made by at-risk youth.” I know: it took me some convincing too. It's run by these guys, and the pie was tasty enough.

Dave and J-Bird went to a concert at the Fillmore while Holly and I tried to catch The Darjeeling Limited at The Kabuki. It was sold out, sadly, so we opted for Into The Wild. Which was also pretty great. Sean Penn. Krakauer. Eddie Vedder. That's just a recipe for hyper-gravitas and catharsis.

Then it was up to Walnut Creek to crash at Aunt Georgia and Uncle Dave’s house for the ninth consecutive year. Tomorrow: The Bridge School.