Me and Patrick. On bikes. Like, 25 miles.

I don’t think I would have guessed that. I knew were talking about maybe renting bikes one day during our trip, and what I imagined was a leisurely stroll along some park paths and maybe across the Golden Gate Bridge.

Obviously I forgot I’m married to a cyclist.

Proud moment no. 1: Climbing to the peak of the Marin Headlands without getting off my bike.

I had this running monologue about maybe I would have to get off my bike because it was getting pretty steep and I could see exactly how far we had to go (a lot far) and Patrick should definitely keep riding to the top without me and we could both enjoy the trip, me from my stop on the side of the road and him from his mountain-top view. I was going on and on, all while pedaling slowly and more slowly to the top. All the way to the top.

Proud moment no. 2: Getting back on my back after we’d ridden into Sausalito for lunch, for our return ride to the bike-rental stand at the Ferry Building in the city.

Not so proud: of all the cursing I did on that return ride. I was tired and sore. And while the ride to Sausalito had been sunny and warm, the return was foggy and cold. I’m afraid I was miserable company for Patrick. But once I got over myself, the ride was pretty easy, tourist-crowded piers notwithstanding.

And then the rest of our day was full of good beer and food. So what’s the whine about?

San Francisco signage is notably more interesting, in general, than signage in other cities.

These two guys were cute. They spent a good five minutes running back and forth from their tripod to get the shot. Also, those mountainy looking things in the background are part of our Marin Headlands climb.

This is what a ten-mile gap looks like from the Sausalito shore to downtown San Francisco. See it hiding in the fog at the left?

Thirsty Bear was a happy accidental find: We’d planned to drink at 21st Amendment, but the place was incredibly packed with game-day goers. This place? Also crowded, but we had the good luck to catch a seat at the bar just as it became available. And the barkeep was clearly a well-educated beer lover. Really good beer talk; free little tasters of the cask selection we’d asked about but not ordered; the kind of beer experience a homebrewer (and his wife) want to have.

Another happy accident: Patrick and I traveled back into Burlingame rather late, but still managed to get a seat at Blue Line Pizza within minutes (despite a packed house). We split a salad (excellent house vinaigrette) and a deep dish pizza with basil.

It was the cap the night called for.

… it takes time! Patrick and I don’t usually gravitate to tourist attractions in the large cities we visit (because those cities offer too many other amazing, lesser-known things). But in San Francisco those tourist attractions drew us in.

I definitely wanted him to see the sea lions at Pier 39. That was a good hour-long walk from our train station. (I didn’t get a good photo of us there, but I did snag one of Alcatraz off in the distance. That place is menacing. I don’t know if it’s the history or the mere image of this large concrete building floating in the distance of the bay.)

And cable cars! We wanted to get a ride so we could capture some of those views. We waited in line for an hour-and-a-half. And then it was a half-hour walk back to our train station.

Throw in a break for lunch and coffee, and it took us nearly all day to do two things.

But the walking. And the views. It was good.

Those hulking boats are a site to behold. And just behind this one is Alcatraz. Lurking.

I was fascinated that at the cable-car turnaround where we were waiting in line, they still rotate each car with manpower.

This guy. I was already a trifle nervous that he was standing on the ledge when we were on our ride. He had no problem leaning out to take photos along the way.

We did veer off the beaten path for coffee.

Cento had been my favorite coffee when I visited San Francisco in January. When Patrick and I stopped in last week, it was still good, but not what I remember. I think it might be one of those shops where the quality of your drink depends on the barista on schedule.

But if ambiance counts for anything, this tiny space is full of it …

Hey, thanks in advance for being cool that I’m catching up from a week’s hiatus …

Patrick and I spent five days in San Francisco last week.

I had every intention of writing at least a short post every day and including a photo from our adventures. But of course … we were in San Francisco. I was happily distracted from any sort of routine.

We caught up almost as much as we wanted to with my best friend and her brand-new family. We drank lots of good coffee. Ate good pastries. Saw coast lines and mountains.

And we started off our first full day in the city the right way: with a 10 a.m. tour of Anchor Brewing’s facilities and tasting room.

Outside the Anchor Brewing building.

We got onto this tour almost magically.

We were on the train headed into the city at about 9:20 when Patrick wondered about calling Anchor. So he did. Within about five minutes he learned that they usually recommend a six-month reservation for a tour spot, but they happened to have a slot open for their 10 o’clock tour … that morning. We got off the train and walked (up) the mile to their facilities with — literally — five minutes to spare.

That is magic, right?

Seriously with that guy on top of the barrel.

Beer scientists at work in the lab. There’s a periodic table. I wanted to check it out …

Beer lover.

Most of my delight during my trip back to the city was watching Patrick discover things and take photos. He’s such an eager and curious human.

Bottling at the brewery.

When we first peered into this room, I overheard someone say “Just like ‘Lavern and Shirley!”

Carrying beer? Or maybe water to control tank temperatures down in the fermentation room?

Fermentation tanks.

This is what everyone was waiting for.

Seven beers for tasting!

Umm, these were all quite good.

The first of seven beers we tasted. Before noon.

Part of enjoying a good beer is taking in the aroma.

Patrick is a connoisseur. Sometimes people interpret his sniffing of drinks and food as a rude habit; really he’s just taking the chance to further understand all the elements.

Anchor also makes Whiskey. Gonna try that. Yup.

Have I written yet about how I want to be a whiskey drinker? One day, I wanna order it neat and love what I’m drinking. Old Potrero — because it requires aging (and thus storage space to be aged in) — is apparently pretty hard to find.

So of course that’s exactly what I want to do.

It has definitely gotten harder to shop for Patrick on special occasions … we’re both lucky to have all the things we need, and often the things we want.

I didn’t stress myself out over finding him the perfect gift. Instead, I wanted to make sure he had special moments. …

I delivered treats to his workplace for him and his co-workers to enjoy; i took him to a delicious lunch out; beer shopping; a good dinner; and of course carrot cake.

Leave it to my fit husband to want nothing more than a salad to celebrate for dinner.

Oh, and carrot cake. With the all-important cream cheese icing.

Moments are good. I think I could be all about moments from now on.

Not to mention, his day started like this …

Patrick and I head to San Francisco on Wednesday to visit my very best friend, her husband, and their new tiny cute adorable perfect little baby. I can’t wait. We’ll be there until Sunday. In that short time, we’ll cram in as much of the city and those beautiful people as we can.

I wanted to take a couple of days off work to be home today and tomorrow. Do some cleaning (not done yet); get our taxes buttoned up (done!); organize (super-happy-yes); be still (mostly).

This vacation week started right.

I rolled out of bed late today. Maybe 9:30. I made coffee. This very good coffee.

Patrick and I still subscribe to Counter Culture’s monthly delivery service. We still use a Chemex to brew it by the cup (or two). We were given a timed water heater so we can wake up to ready-to-use water (thank you, Mom and Dad!).

It sounds like much ado, but it takes six minutes. A couple of minutes to gather the tools; weigh the beans; preheat the caraffe and soak the filter with hot water; grind the coffee; and dose the water.

And then just a few minutes after that for brew time. Not too much to ask for something that still feels like an important ritual.

I’ve been cutting my own hair for more than a year now … ever since Patrick and I went to the same hair stylist when we lived in Roanoke, got the exact same hair cut and service, and the guy charged me twice as much as he charged Patrick.

I was so mad I decided to just start doing it myself.

It definitely seemed like a crazy idea. But at once it also seemed crazy that I couldn’t do it — because who would know my own hair, my own preferences, my own whims better than me?

So I got to it, and I’ve been cutting my own hair since. And then Patrick wanted to get in on it. And how could I say no when he had the courage to put his hair in my amateur hands? So I’ve been cutting his hair for at least six months.

I won’t go into a how-to, because I don’t know enough to tell someone else how to successfully cut their own hair. I will say that if you have even an inkling of a desire to try it … try it. The worst thing that happens is you go back to your hair dresser to clean up your work.

For the first time since I started, I indulged in some legitimate hair-cutting tools. The comb, I’ve had. But I bought some proper little shears and that toothy thing. The lady behind the counter said it removes bulk (not length). I also feel like it helps smooth out my rough initial chops with the shears. But maybe I’m making up that part.

I like that stack. I’m trying to grown my hair out, but I keep cutting it short in the back (part of me loves the boyishness of a short nape-line). I don’t trim the front of my hair quite so much. Maybe this is not the way to do it. In the meantime, it looks kinda gooood.

I made him pose … mostly ’cause he looked so good in his suit.

I’m happy with the back of that haircut … smooth and even-lengthed.

Two days late; better than never at all!

We took to Grandfather Mountain, where it was cold and windy but where there were BEARS!

Indoors on the mountain

When Patrick and I were on the mountain, I realized how grateful I am that we both like to geek out at museums, science centers, nature exhibits, on and on. It’s a small thing to have in common, but it’s such a fun thing.

So we loved walking through Grandfather Mountain’s Nature Museum. It was small, and full of the things we can stare at for an hour.

An ode to the mountain’s own Mildred the bear and her cubs. Poor Mildred is dead.

Umm, I was smitten by this cub face. Rawr.

I think all the bird displays were wood-carved statues. They were gorgeous. There was also a wild-mushrooms display; some of the mushroom landscapes included tiny human skulls. Poisonous?

These boxes were actually in the gift shop at the top of the mountain. Patrick: “The hipster in me wants one of these boxes. Mildred!”

Outdoors

A real-life bear! In real life! I don’t think I’ve ever seen a captive bear. Patrick and I have run into a couple during hikes, but we all kept a good distance from one another. It was more like seeing a passing blur. This was pretty neat. We stood there for a good fifteen minutes just watching this bear and its bear friend chomping on grass. Slowly. It was so quiet that we could hear the grass being torn from the ground. It was neat.

After the wildlife exhibit, we headed to the top of the mountain. I’ve been to the parking lot there a few times — my dad and Patrick have both done the Bridge to Bridge cycling century separately. Amazingly, I never took the few extra steps to check out Swinging Bridge. Ever! It’s so windy on the top of the mountain that trees bear witness with these side-swept branches.

Patrick claimed the highest point he could once we crossed the bridge. That’s very him.

Last fall, Patrick participated in a bike race that started and finished at the Banner Elk Winery & Villa, and in addition to riding well, he won us a two-night stay at the attached bed and breakfast.

So here we are this weekend, nestled in the cold and slightly snowy mountains of North Carolina. Rather than worry myself over writing thoughtful posts while we’re away, I thought I’d just post photos of the day-to-day …

I used to think of road trips (even short ones like this) as a chance to indulge in junk food. But I didn’t bat an eye when Patrick packed us some almonds to snack on instead.

As we were passing through Boone, we stopped at Appalachian Mountain Brewery. This Golden Nugget (a Belgian strong), was delicious. Patrick gave me grief about getting such a high-gravity beer, but it hit the spot. I didn’t complain when he helped me finish it, either.

I love when a place pays attention to its bathroom. I’ll definitely come back to pee at this brewery.

A view from the winery. Photo by Patrick.

As we headed out to dinner at a local vegetarian-friendly restaurant, I couldn’t resist checking my style in this full-length mirror. Now I want one.

Juice lunch: sweet potato, carrot, grape, ginger, celery.

Sometimes this is how things work with Patrick and me:

One of us likes something.
The other person is baffled for a minute.
The first person keeps liking it.
The other person figures out it’s cool. Then that other person takes it to the next level.
Then the first person is like “this is even better than I thought it was when I was the only person who thought it was cool!”

It’s kind of a weird setup, but it means that he and I are constantly challenging each other to try new things, to understand new ideas, and then to take everything to the next level.

Enter: juice.

I already said how I was super dubious about this whole juicing nonsense when Patrick first started talking about it as a supplement to his bike training nutrition. But then I picked it up and ran with it. I’ve been having juice lunches for a week and I still look forward to them. (They’re surprisingly filling. And I swear I have more energy … even though I’ve also been drinking less coffee.)

And now Patrick’s joined in on liquid lunches. So before we headed out of town today for a long weekend stay in the mountains, we juiced.

Wanna see?

Sweet hot sunshine juice

For one serving, I prepared these ingredients …

This made good juice!

• 4 carrots, peeled
• 4 ribs of celery
• 1 sweet potato, peeled (then chopped)
• 2 cups grapes
• 1 inch ginger root

If we’d had any apples, I would have thrown one in the mix.

For anyone who might be wondering if you can actually get juice from a sweet potato … this is that one sweet potato, broken down into juice and pulp parts.

This made a spicy, sweet, slightly savory drink.

So far I’ve found that …

• Whenever I use celery, I get a hint of healthy vegetable juice flavor.
• And whenever I use ginger, I get a wallop of heat (which I like).
• Sweet potatoes, I think, lend a creamier texture to the drink.
• Grapes are pure sweetness.
• Carrots seem to go well with everything.

My ingredients made exactly a pint of juice before I dumped in some ice.

We almost brought our juicer to the mountains. We decided against it, but after a biggish dinner and indulging in some regrettable sweets, I have a feeling we may wish we had.

In any case, I can’t wait to get back to the grocery story and collect new produce. I might even build up the courage to juice some of the turmeric root I bought last week …