Do the Right Thing

(Hugo, looking like he’s about to throw a trash can through the window of Sal’s Pizzeria.)

It’s hot here. San Francisco, usually the coldest place in months like May (and July and August) is experiencing record high heat. No one has air conditioning (or swimming pools) and Hugo doesn’t find it the least bit funny.

In an attempt to take advantage of this rare heat Sacha and I took Hugo to the beach today.

He was quite taken with the water and gritty sand between his chubby toes. Because it was Alameda, and thus not really the “ocean” beach, the water was calm and warm. We lunched on the hot sand and occasionally dipped our pink warm son in the water to cool off.

By the time we left, our boy’s face and chest was covered in a potent swirl of sweat, salt water, sand, snot, cheese, cheerios, ham (I think), and drool (of course). He was quite the picture in his car seat on the way home, wearing only his diaper and the sun hat we affectionately call his “meth hat” (because it looks like it belongs to a biker in Lake County that wears cut off Levi’s and likes to go innertubing). The seeming discomforts didn’t bother him, though, and he kept up good spirits all the while.

Maybe next time it gets hot we’ll just go innertubing…

Weekend of Wonder

I have so much to write, about our big trip, about all the changes in Hugo of late, but this parenting gig keeps me busy. In the meantime, I wanted to post about our past weekend, because it was such a pleasure and I don’t want to forget it. The weather was perfect, Hugo was charming,  and that’s all Juan and I need for a fantastic weekend.

Saturday morning Juan, Hugo and I headed to the Allemany Farmers Market, braving the crowds and parking to get some spring produce. As usual, by April I’ve long grown weary of winter produce and am doubting my commitment to eat fruits and vegetables in season. Squash, cabbage, sweet potatoes, even kiwis and citrus, the blush has worn off the rose, so to speak. It’s still early, but we spotted strawberries, asparagus, and peas. No artichokes…yet! After Hugo’s nap, he and I headed to San Rafael to scour the chaos of a warehouse liquidation sale of women’s clothing. Unlike his father, Hugo doesn’t really  mind shopping with me. He was happy to sit in his stroller, munching on his beloved Zwieback crackers and letting his hands rifle through the mounds of clothing.  I found such cute casual stuff for summer, all practically free! I think Hugo must have seen the intent look of bargain hunting on my face, because he didn’t make a peep the whole time.

Saturday night Juan made mussels, inspired by ones we had in Belgium, with lots of good bread and fries and a tomato salad. Hugo’s Aunt Sarah joined us and afterwards we went around the corner to Mitchell’s for ice cream. My logic: there are so few warm nights in San Francisco that they are like official holidays and must be celebrated accordingly.

Sunday, Sarah and I went to the gym while Hugo napped. When I got back, Hugo and I joined my friend Elissa on a trip to the swings at a nearby playground, followed by beers at a nearby pub that is baby-friendly, where the cute Polish waitress caught Hugo’s eye. On the way home, the three of us stopped to shop for books, and Elissa picked a great one for Hugo that he loves. We arrived home sun-soaked and exhausted, so Hugo and I napped while Juan went and got deep dish pizza, which got all lopsided coming home on the Vespa, but I reassembled it and it didn’t even matter because the weekend was so grand.

In case any of you dear readers have forgotten what it feel like to be on a swing in the summer, I offer you this tryptych, taken at a previous trip to the swings: