A Girl...

She Was Born in the Summer of Her Twenty-Seventh Year

Okay, so y'all don't like to comment on the webcasts. I get it. Whatever. It's not like we devote an hour and a half of our precious cuddling time to them or anything. Here are some damn pictures.

This, taken just moments ago, is but a small portion of the blocks-long parade in which the denizens of our fair city celebrated my birthday with unintelligible chanting and large signs bearing the likeness of Che Guevara.

In other birthday news, here's what we did on the weekend. On Saturday, we embarked on what would become a nine-mile rollerskating adventure in San Francisco. We went from the Bay Bridge to Pier 39 and back, then down to the ballpark (where we caught the last two pitches of a Giants' game, including a tie-breaking homer in the bottom of the ninth!), and then all the way back down to Pier 39 again before returning to our parking spot under the Bay Bridge. My legs are still sore. Every time we skated past the farmers market at the Ferry Building, Simon rolled by the orange vendor and snagged a free slice.

I didn't have my camera on board while skating, so I only have a few pictures from the drive later that afternoon, which included a little jaunt across town to buy Simon a wetsuit and to pick up dinner ingredients--a salmon filet and the first fresh white corn of the year. I am so glad it's finally finally finally warm and sunny.

Anystreet, San Francisco, USA.

Bay Bridge, eastbound, sunset.

Although I make a big show of being bratty, I'm actually pretty humble when it comes to my birthday. About an hour ago, I was subjected to the whole singing/cut the cake/presentation of the card thing at work, and I thought I was going to die of embarrassment. I really do love attention, but only when I have to work for it.

That said, I only made one simple birthday request, and that was to spend a day in Santa Cruz, which is just what we did. Even though it threatened haze and wind and cold, by the time we got to the beach it was splendid and marvellous. If you hate surfers, look away, because you're about to get an eyefull.

The best details of the day are revealed in the webcast, and the remains of the day are revealed in my throbbing hamstrings and swollen feet. We had sandwiches on a bench in a field of blooming succulents, and then we walked six miles along the coast--there and back between Natural Bridges and the boardwalk, where we got a frozen lemonade and had our picture etched in a metal pendant. The loveliness of the weather, the beach volleyballers, the cruiser bikes, the tiny dogs, the naked juggler, the merry-go-round, the hand holding--all of it was perfect. Simon is now sporting a red neck, and I have a pink dickie adorning my decolletage.

We drove home up the coast, taking in the sunset and the nachos and the steak fries along the way, watching twenty-six float gracefully off into the sunset.

Also, Happy Happy Birthday to my blog sistah, Shirley. Here's to you!