'Tis the season

For cookies! (And cake pops...and gooey butter cake...and pumpkin pancakes with homemade whipped cream...) Mmmmmm!

It started snowing last night, thankfully after I made it home from work.  But by the time the Russian walked in, he had a light covering of snow on his jacket.

Today we awoke to more of the white powder.  It's been coming down, sometimes lazily, sometimes with determination, all day.  It's the quintessential winter afternoon for me.

And I just can't help myself.

I want - no, scratch that - I need cookies.  The ultimate comfort food in my book.  Ooey, gooey, scrumptious, warm cookies (maybe with a side of hot chocolate).  Yes, this is what today calls for.  I even ventured to the store for the eggs we ran out of.

The main problem is this - cake batter.  It somehow finds its way onto beaters and fingers.  My first inclination is to lick it off like I have for years.  (Would you expect anything less from the queen of sweets?)  But about halfway to my mouth, I remember I'm pregnant and the raw egg is a big no-no.

With a sad sigh, I keep washing fingers off in the sink, bidding farewell to small bits of deliciousness.  But now I finally have this:

Oops.  Looks like I broke one...or is that two?  Quality control time!  I'll settle for a side of regular milk for taste testing.  Maybe the hot chocolate will come out when the Russian gets home.

(The other problem with cookies and pregnancy...I grab one and walk away, forgetting to put the next sheet of cookies into the oven. It might take me a while to actually bake them all.)

(And before someone gives me a lecture on how I should be healthier during pregnancy, well, these are whole wheat cookies, so that's something, right?)

An irresistible urge

I woke up with an urge on Sunday.

It's been tickling my brain for the past several months.

I couldn't help myself.

There was no cake on hand, and edible luster dust has been prying it's way into my life, though not quite my kitchen. Thus, a trip to the store was in order. But while waiting for the store to open (Sunday hours, you know), the first step began: chocolate feathers.

A few hours, a cake, and some help from a friend later, and the first peacocks began to emerge.

Soon the one became a muster. (Look it up.)

Pretty cute, no? They don't taste too bad, either.

(The eyes never quite got finished, as a frantic phone call regarding honeymoon requests arrived and I ended up on my computer eyeing tropical destinations.)

Oh chocolate, welcome to my hips

Please excuse the not-so-perfectly dripped glaze.  I was hasty.

Schools are notorious for potlucks. Alright, maybe it's more teachers than schools.  We educators love our food.  Celebration?  Food.  Birthday?  Food.  Working late?  Food.  Random event happening?  Food.  It's Wednesday?  Food.

We celebrated para educators again this week (after the stress of conferences, ya' know, gotta get through it with food). It was also a coworker's birthday.  Count 'em...two reasons to eat.

Aka we had several potlucks this week. For some odd reason, I always get elected to bring desserts. This time I headed to the man friend to help with my inspiration: double chocolate torte, peanut butter cream torte, or chocolate peanut butter cake. (Leftovers always seem to make their quick way to him.)

Cake is the ultimate choice.

However, chocolate peanut butter cake is a lot of work...relatively.  It's a lot more work than just buying a pre-made dessert.  Therefore, the ever-caring manfriend talked me out of spending the time and effort for the time being...

(Strawberry shortcake was perfect for work:  whip up homemade whipped cream, slice a few strawberries, melt some fudge icing that needed to be used...voila!)

That is how chocolate peanut butter cake became a gift for the upcoming spring break. (Someone convinced me that they deserve it, even if my coworkers don't.)  A very tasty gift, I might add.

Someone needs to come take this cake away from me.

I licked the frosting bowl clean.  Literally.

(I might have done the same with the chocolate peanut butter glaze, too...but there was definitely no sampling of the actual final product... I swear...)

It might kill me to wait 24 hours to cut into this.

Three layers of chocolatey, peanut buttery goodness

Safari cake pops!

Another request from work... (although I wasn't too happy with how they came out).  I figured it out pretty close to the end that I wasn't getting them cold enough, even though they were in the freezer longer than recommended.  But whatever.  The lions did come out cute.

Most of the monkeys are kinda disfigured...I kinda want to redo them all.  I'm positive I can make them better next time.

Maybe I'll make mini peacocks in honor of my wedding theme?

Just cuz I can...(I'm not crazy enough to think I could make them for the wedding.)  (But that would be cute.)

Clowning around

The latest and greatest in the cake pop series:  Clowns!

Made specially for a birthday party for my coworker's son.

They came out rather cute in the end...but I had my doubts.  The first ones seemed not-so-cute...maybe a tad on the scary side*.  My coworker didn't like the party hats she saw on clowns in my Cake Pop book, so I skipped that part.

I had a bit of difficulty with them...as you can tell, a lot of them fell off the stick.  Oh well!  We have stick-less clowns!  (Does that make them clown balls?)

A bit of advice for anyone who attempts to make these:  use tightly twisted fruit roll ups for the mouth, or Twizzlers.  Do not be like me and use Rips Whips, which does not conform to a smile shape very easily.

* It's the eyes.  I didn't like** the eyes...

**Hint for others:  Do NOT use mini m&ms for eyes and add dots.  I unfortunately decided to on one that was already doomed with a stick through it's head...it really lends itself to the psycho murderous clown image.

Do my eyes deceive me?

As I mentioned previously, one of my coworkers requested my cupcake creations for her daughter's birthday.  The catch was her daughter is allergic to chocolate (and chocolate flavoring).  However, candy melts still work.

I agreed to make something cute for the party and showed her my cake pop book.  Ice cream was immediately chosen as the favorite.

So, without further ado, I present the cupcake version of ice cream:

They're so cute I almost don't want to eat them...yet on the other hand, I want to devour them as fast as I can.  How many do you think I can shove in my mouth at one time?  I'm willing to find out... I didn't think about snapping a picture of some of the "fallen" cones, but they might be my favorites.

Because of the chocolate problem, we have strawberry cake inside the pink candy coating, and it really tastes like ice cream...just without the coldness.

Next, it's clown cake pops, for another birthday party.  After that, I'm dying to make some for Halloween...suggestions?  I want to try spiders, spider webs with mini spiders, pumpkins, candy corn, ghosts, black cats, mummies, eye balls, witches, and maybe a monster or two.  That's a few too many, though (unfortunately).

To cater or not to cater

Some of you know of my addiction to sweet little morsels of cake mashed up with frosting and dipped in chocolate.  Said goodness is then decorated to be the most sickeningly scrumptious treat you can imagine.

Cake pops.

I do not claim to be a master, but I can't stop making them.  By making them I mean eating them.

Recently, I made cake pops, partially because I wanted to, and partially because it was around my birthday.

Each time I make cake pops, I want to make something new and cuter.  Here are a few of my favorites:

Birthday/thank you butterflies with flowers.

"Fancy" glitter snowballs.

Reindeer.

And my personal all-time favorite:  Snowmen.

The recent ones earned me the not-uncommon* "Can you make these for me?"  One of my coworkers wants me to make some for her daughter's soon-to-be birthday.  She's offering to pay the cost of materials...and labor.  Now, I can't justify asking her to cover my time and effort (yet), but it is tempting.  All through grad school people have told me how I could cater part time around my career in speech therapy.

I'm starting to think it might be a good idea.

*People have asked me to make cake pops for their weddings**.  It hasn't worked out with anyone, yet, but I'm hopeful to be able to make some for my own wedding someday.

**It's not limited to cake pops, or to weddings.  Everything from truffles to rye bread to Spinach and Cheese Cigars has been requested...

50 years and cupcakes

My parents recently celebrated 50 years of wedded bliss...or at least 50 years dealing with children and family life.  I have to say a big "Congratulations!" to them.  Fifty years is hard, especially in this day and age.  It's rare to come across marriages that last that long.  Did you know that the average life span of a marriage is 8 years anymore.*

Anyway, to celebrate this feat, all 8  of the children that my parents raised, as well as their children (and children's children) threw a party...well, two...but let's not split hairs.

I could go on for hours...days...about the qualities that keep marriages together or strategies that work...but I'll spare you (I am, after all, single myself).  My goal is just to point out the incredible job my niece did on cupcakes!  In the far back, we have strawberry lemonade, next to them is strawberry-blueberry chocolate, and in the front we have cappuccino with chocolate buttercream frosting.  They were gorgeous! (And tasty, too!)

Don't you think she should open a business?  I do.


*Or so I've heard from my father.  I haven't bothered to look that statistic up.

Introduction to Russian food

"I want some Russian food"

I turn around to face the manfriend with big eyes.  I don't know how to make Russian food.  Never even tasted it before.

Kiev Market is the savior.  An unobtrusive white building, it sits next to a dark blue Victorian house.  This family run store is quietly sandwiched between storage units and a nursery where it generally goes unnoticed on the busy street.  It sells basic delicacies from the motherland to those transplanted to the States from Russia.

Although I am trying to learn, the Cyrillic alphabet eludes me.  Perhaps it is more apt to say that I'm mastering the Cyrillic alphabet, just not the Russian.  Either way, I can't read anything in this store.

I take it back!  I take it back!

I can read the numbers.  Hah!  So there.

The Russian seems thrilled to find some of his favorite food, and we return to the house with a few items to try.

Kvass.

It smells like beer, which, I guess technically it is.  Bread beer...without the alcohol.  Isn't the alcohol why people drink beer?  I dunno.  But the manfriend not only loves this stuff, he wants to make some of his own.  There's bread involved, a liquid of sorts...wet bread...fermenting?  What part of this is supposed to sound appetizing?

But being a good sport, I try it.  It doesn't taste as bad as I feared it would.  I guess the glass of Coke Zero (in case I have to wash the taste out of my mouth) from my quest for ice cream is unnecessary.  I'll just drink it anyway...ya know, let him enjoy the "good stuff."  (See how unselfish I am?)

The other item is halva.

"It's addicting.  People don't make it.  You buy it at the store.  If you make it for me, you'd be the best cook ever."

It does not look tasty.  Not in the least.  I mean, look at it.  It looks like paper mache that's been thrown into a food processor and then pressed back together.  It's about that color, too.

Gingerly, I take a piece.  Uhm, the manfriend is right.  It is addicting, not too sweet, not too bland.  The more I eat it, the more I want it.  I'm going to have to figure out how to make it now.  I turn to google to help me figure out what halva is...apparently a combination of honey and tahini (sesame paste).

It's not much, but it's my first exposure to Russian food.  The Russian won't make any of it for me.  So tell me, what is good Russian food?  What should I look out for or attempt to make myself?  Or what is something that just grosses you out about Russian food (like all the pickling)?

Screaming for ice cream

I am a lover of all things sweet...candy, ice cream, cakes, tarts, pudding, custards, popsicles, fudgesicles, cotton candy, funnel cakes, Moose Tracks with pb cups and fudge and vanilla ice cream...stopping now before I drown in my own drool.

This was pretty apparent as a kid, when I was pronounced queen of desserts by my mother. Buffets were awesome since it's unlimited dessert. I remember one place, J.B.'s, when I was like, six, and they had the most awesome dessert bar imaginable! Brownies, ice cream, marshmallows, hot fudge, Oreos, peanuts, skittles, nerds, m&ms -- what, you want me to stop now? This isn't why you read the blog? Okay, the point is, I would go back for seconds and thirds and even fourths if I could sneak it by my parents. And unlike my siblings, my place would be clean, since every bite belonged in my mouth, not wasted on the table.

Fast forward twenty something years, and I'm on a weight loss/healthy kick...I try not to eat desserts, or I only have a small taste and the rest goes to the manfriend. I try. But some days just won't conform. Today, for instance. Today I had an insatiable desire for junk.

When the manfriend came home today, I pounced.

Me: So, dinner...any ideas?
Manfriend: I'm not really hungry. How about we don't do anything fancy and just snack?
Me: (glancing into the fridge) Not hungry at all? I want chips and salsa.
Manfriend: Not hungry.
Me: (eyeing the guacamole and pico de gallo)  I guess I can just make tacos again.

I sigh. I pull out a bowl to make tortillas. I stand there.  After a minute or two, I put the bowl back and pile chicken, salsa and guacamole on a plate. I don't want to go to any effort.

A couple of minutes pass.

Me: I want ice cream.
Manfriend: Do you deserve ice cream?*
Me: Excuse me? Do I deserve ice cream? Now look here, I didn't eat tiramisu, chocolate, and peanut butter cups today like someone else did.
Manfriend: Okay.
Me:  I want ice cream.
Manfriend:  You convinced me. But I'm not going to buy it.
Me: I want ice cream.
Manfriend: So go, buy yourself some. What's stopping you?
Me: The fact that I shouldn't...but I want it.
Manfriend: Aren't you supposed to have a "cheat day/meal?"

Hmmm...fantastic point. I grab my purse, pull on shoes, and whisk out the door to the grocery store, visions of Coke Zero**, brownies, and peanut buster parfaits all dancing through my thoughts.

Not 15 minutes later, I return carrying my prize: Coke Zero and Moose Tracks ice cream.  I pull out a spoon and carve out some ice cream for my 1/2 cup-ish bowl.

Manfriend: That's a big carton. When I don't go with you, you get more stuff.
Me: It's mine.
Manfriend: You need my influence at the store.
Me: Well, it only comes this size.
Manfriend:  I'm a good influence.
Me:  Hah!  I wanted Moose Tracks.
Manfriend: Now I want some. (glancing at my spoon) Use the scoop. It's the right tool.

Fine. I grab the ice cream scoop and attempt to pull out more of the soft ice cream, only to have a rather large chunk escape me and fly to freedom on the countertop. Uhm, whoops? I attempt to grab it with the help of the ice cream scoop, and the ice cream promptly falls to the floor. Uh-oh.

Screw the "right tool," I grab it with my hand and toss it in the sink. Maybe next time I should just eat the ice cream out of the carton.  Besides, by the time I get to actually start eating my ice cream, the manfriend has polished off his bowl. Who's the good influence now?

*Said in jest. The manfriend loves me.
**Evil. This must be made in hell. When it is in my possession, it lasts for minutes. I drank a two liter in a day the last time we bought it.

Birthday treat update

The manfriend's birthday came for a visit.  Being the fantastic girlfriend that I am, I bowed my little head and slaved away in the kitchen.

If you want details on the food, check it out on my new foodie blog here.  I won't bore you with it all right now.

I'm just here to announce the winner from the poll...

With breakfast, we had mini banana split bites (minus ice cream, but with candles).  Cuteness overload.

That night, when the dinner plates were whisked away, coffee appeared accompanied by glass mugs of heaven.  It's also known as Tiramisu, but you know, heaven describes it pretty well.  I know we're into portion control right now, but, honestly, I think I should have made double...maybe triple the amount of Tiramisu.

Tiramisu pancakes

Healthy flew out the window before I woke up this morning.  Today's about creativity.  Today's creation: tiramisu in pancake form.  (Hey, I made up for it by being healthy all week...)

I'm sure they could have been a touch more decadent, but I decided not to overload myself with too much sugar.

They still have marscarpone cheese, chocolate, and coffee, though...yum.

I would upload a recipe, but I very liberally changed one I found online here.  And I didn't measure what I did, so you're fresh out of luck...just go use that recipe and make changes that sound good to you (or don't make changes, whatever).

Birthday treats

The manfriend has a birthday fast approaching.  So being the devoted girlfriend that I am, I have begun to scour the internet for treat ideas.  He really likes the cheesecake, but recently decided to not indulge in it anymore.  Something about cholesterol levels and weight... a travesty.  I'll just have to dutifully eat his portion for him (but that won't do for his birthday).

Cupcakes!  Truffles!  Pies!  Tarts!  Frozen concoctions!  I'm up to my mouth in ooey gooey heavenly creations.  I...can't...decide... I mean, look at these tasty options and tell me you can resist their pull?

We have something cute to start off...Banana Split Mini Bites!  Cute birthday fun!  But it sounds so easy?  Check out the recipe here.

Banana Split Mini Bites (bakersroyale.com)

Next up we have something a little more decadent...you just can't go wrong with dark chocolate and peanut butter.  It doesn't scream out fun, but it screams eat me!  Check out the recipe here.

Dark Chocolate Cupcakes with Peanut Butter Mousse Frosting (bakersroyale.com)

Yet another version of chocolate and peanut butter... have I mentioned that the manfriend loves Reese's peanut butter cups?  This one makes me think more fun and birthday cake-y.  Check out the recipe here.

Peanut Butter and Chocolate Cupcake (bakersroyale.com)

I recently found out how much the manfriend is into tiramisu...and I can alter a recipe to make it mini in a  mug.  Honestly, doesn't it look delicious?  Check out the recipe here.

Tiramisu (bakersroyale.com)

So help!  What dessert makes you salivate?  Help me figure out what to bake next by voting below.

San Francisco touring

The one thing you cannot do as a tourist in San Francisco is avoid tours.  Well, you could, but then you'd miss half of the fun.

One of the places I wanted to see was the Rock.  Yes, Alcatraz.  Tickets were sold out for the next week, so there was no hope of me hopping on a tour to the infamous prison.  However, I was able to catch a bay cruise that motored me around the island and then on to other highlights in the bay.

The boat meandered under the Golden Gate Bridge, which was shyly hiding behind fog.  I have one thing to say about the bridge:  it's huge!  I find it interesting that it's so iconic of San Francisco that it is constantly being painted to keep it beautiful (and because it needs it with the salty sea air).

After walking back onto solid land, hunger descended upon me.  Hillstone, a restaurant just across the street from pier 33, looked pretty appetizing.  Of course, in order to get to the restaurant, you have to walk a block to a stoplight, then cross the street and walk back.  But it was worth it.

Hillstone was probably the best food in my entire San Francisco journey.  I got nervous approaching the door that exclaimed "proper attire required."  Does that mean dressy?  Who knows.  They let us in.  Waitstaff decked head to toe in black, and a too-happy hostess attempting a 70s look fit in with the dark wooden decor.

Being next to the water, many of the menu items were seafood.  I settled on a Chicken and Friends Sandwich.  (Not seafood)  It had chicken, it had ham, it had avocado.  Sold!  I didn't know it until my first bite, but it  had a house bbq sauce as well.  Scrumptious!  If you're in San Francisco, eat there.  Eat that.

Service was prompt, the food was delectable... though I think the waitress was in training.  When asked to repeat something or questioned about the one of the items she listed off, it was a blank stare for about 30 seconds before a very hesitant response.

The famous "Painted Ladies"

Moving along, after lunch was another walk along the piers to look for San Francisco bus tours.  An Australian teenager sold us on a hop-on hop-off bus tour.  We stayed on the bus through most of the route, given the hour (hopped on at 4:30 and most places closed around 5).  We saw the Painted Ladies (very cool), dropped off some Germans to "shop" on Haight and Ashbury, cruised by city hall with it's beautiful dome...

Did you know that George Lucas rents out a building on the Palacidio for $5 million a month?  Or that there's a Disney museum?

The one area I wanted to see was Golden Gate Park with the Modern Arts Museum, flower conservatory, and Japanese Tea Gardens.  Alas, it was too late on Friday...I consoled myself with the thought that maybe on Saturday we could go with the bbf (and pass on Ghirardelli Square?  I don't think so).

A day of eating in San Francisco

San Francisco is known for good great things.  One of those things is food.  High quality food is definitely on the to-do list while on vacation.  Not that I don't love the Lake, but I'm the one cooking the entire time.  San Francisco, on the other hand...I don't have to touch a pan.

Hopping off the plane at nearly 10:30 at night, I gave up hope on a nice dinner out.  The bbf not only managed to get out of work early enough to avoid the stress of hunting down the shuttle, she had ideas for dinner.  She hadn't had time to go out in San Francisco yet, having just moved and working 12 or 14 hour days.  Crazy.  I don't think I'd have the stamina to be a doctor.

In all of her amazingness, she had wanted to make a surprise dinner: Zuppa Toscana.  Mmmm.  So good.  However, with her long schedule and a crock pot that doesn't stay on for the requisite 14 hours, it wasn't to be.  Spaghetti with homemade sauce and some bread, that's what dinner morphed into.  Hey, we don't know where to eat at 11:30pm on a Wednesday... Kudos to her cooking, though.

I take it back, I did touch a pan.  Breakfast!  I can make it myself, so I did so.  The first day I opted to spend in the Exploratorium, which, while it has many interesting things to do, does not have a very thrilling food court.  I did have some quinoa salad that was pretty tasty, but that's about all I can say about lunch.

Walking around San Francisco for the remainder of the day worked up my appetite.  Dinner was going to be at a restaurant with the bbf.  However, she recommended we try an In and Out fast food joint, so, after a few hours of walking, the manfriend and I stumbled into one.  Not wanting to ruin a much tastier dinner, the we split a combo.

Photo from The Cheesecake Factory

Eventually, after looking in store after store around Union Square, we found a sweater to keep the manfriend somewhat warm in the windy city.  A bench in Union Square finally gave my feet a reprieve, where I happened to become very aware of The Cheesecake Factory.  Who can resist that?  Mango Key Lime?  Reese's Peanut Butter Chocolate?  Vanilla Bean?  Red Velvet? Triple Chocolate?  Too many options...I wanted to try one of each!  Alas, we settled on one per person...only three... (not that we didn't split every piece between the three of us).

Due to high demands at work, the bbf didn't get off until 10pm.  Our choice for dinner was a quaint thai restaurant, Them Phanom.  Only one problem - they close at 10:30.  By the time we arrive, they graciously tell us that they are already closed.  It's 10:15, of course they don't want to seat us.  Alright.  Walking back to the car, we spot a hole in the very dirty wall: Chili Cha Cha.  Okay, we'll give that a try.  It's still food.

Best choice ever.

The curry is amazing - the perfect blend of spice and creaminess.  The cashew chicken is delicious.  I hear the pad thai is pretty awesome as well.  And best info ever for the bbf: they deliver!  The negative thing is that we requested to sit in the restaurant, and they ended up bringing us our food for take out.  Whatever.  We piled into the car and ate in the comfort of the kitchen.

And had cheesecake for dessert.

Deadly Attacking Fish!

I just so happen to worship the sun.  Yes, I sprawl on a towel and roast myself.  I hardly ever burn, so that's my excuse to everyone who's screaming what about cancer?!?! to their computer screens.  And yes, sunscreen is my friend.

Anyways, for a few days this July one could find me out on the dock bombarding my skin with sun rays.  The problem with this is that it gets hot.  Now, typically, when I get hot, the solution is to go for a quick dip in the water.

Side note:  I should have been born with gills.  I was raised with a pool and spent summers at the Lake... swimming has always been a natural part of my life, and my parents yelling at me to get out of the water already has always punctured my summers.

I very much enjoy being in the water...even 56 degree water.  I have a couple of pictures (somewhere) of me swimming in said water.  While I was at the Lake this summer, the water was around 56...perfectly acceptable for me to climb in.

So, day one, I'm out on the dock and beginning to roast.  Time to cool off I think as I crawl over to the metal ladder. 

It looks inconspicuous enough, right?

I'm about halfway into the water when something sharp strikes my foot.  What the... I glance toward my foot just in time to see a fish darting back towards the dock.  Uhm, that's new.  This occurrence urges me out of the water.  As kids how many times did we imagine fish that would eat us?  All the time.

Or what about that time J. was screaming that the minnows were going to eat him as he floated on the inner tube...?  ...That's another story...

I content myself with having been halfway in the water.  Oh well.  So there I lay, reading and sleeping until the sun goads me into the water again.  Alright, well, the fish is probably gone by now.  I get down to the second rung again, and feel a sharp strike on my foot again. Grrr.  Stupid fish!

The psycho attacking fish!

I'm not getting in the water.  The manfriend went to wash his face and the fish came to attack. Uh, hello... Not safe...the little bugger.  I don't think so, we're not getting in that water.  As I contemplate my options, I watch him chase off a few other fish that swim by.  One fish he manages to scare off is at least 1 1/2 feet long.

No matter what, this little guy is not leaving his territory right beneath the ladder.  Too bad I don't own a fishing license so I could catch a nice little dinner. Who am I kidding?  I won't eat him.  I just want him to let me swim.

Why did he have to choose under the dock for his nest (or whatever his reason for being there)?  Why not here?

It looks perfectly nice to me.  Or what about over there?

Or even that way?

Anywhere that would allow me to swim...

Ah well.  I'll make up for my inability to swim by roasting marshmallows over the fire.  The big ones. You know, the ones that are the size of your fist to begin with and swell up to the size of your head.  Those.

After note:  Upon returning from the Lake, I talked to my brother about the fish.  Apparently they're rampant up there this year.  A lot of deck owners are pestered by little mighty fish of their own.

My poor aching feet...but cheesecake makes everything better

Photo from The Cheesecake Factory

Today was day número uno in San Francisco. I awoke bright and not-so-cheerfully early. For me, in the summer, 7:00 is the buttcrack of dawn-it shouldn't exist. And yet it does. My eyes partially cracked open, I pulled my phone over to examine the options for my day.

I quickly found a link yet again to the Exploratorium. I've come across it like, three times. It must be a sign.

Done. The day is decided. Off to the Palace of the Arts to learn science and play with weird experiments!

It doesn't take too long to get ready and walk out the door. The arrival to the Palace, well, takes longer than it probably should, being that part of the time is spent walking the wrong direction...or taking the bus the opposite way...but nevertheless, Adventure! San Francisco is full of beautiful architecture to be seen. Despite a few minor mishaps, arrival is within the hour.

It's easy to blow several (4) hours at the Exploratorium. More to come (with pictures) soon once I can upload them. After becoming slightly bored with the million and a half exhibits, it's time to go. Forget the aching feet and headache, it's time to walk San Francisco.

The next several hours are spent meandering the streets checking out the scenery. There are some beautiful views of Alcatraz and the bay, and some not-nearly-as-attractive views of a naked man laying in the grass...yeah...it got worse when he stood up and tried to keep pace with us...moving on...

We walk through parts of Golden Gate Park, Fisherman's Wharf, and the piers. Anyone feel the need for an Alcatraz: Psych department shirt? Eventually hundreds of tourists, myself included, shove our way onto a trolley. Escape from the hoard finally comes at Union Square, where it's time to do a bit of shopping. Who am I kidding? With names such as Bulgari, Luis Vuitton, and Saks Fifth Avenue, I'm mostly gazing into windows.

As I give my poor feet a break from standing 95% of my day, a sign catches my attention: The Cheesecake Factory. I. Must. Go. There. Being that lunch was a minuscule salad and a spoonful of quinoa with veggies, and "dinner/snack" was approximately half a combo from In and Out, I'm in the mood for cheesecake. Alright, alright, it's just an excuse. I mean, it's cheesecake!

So, climbing up to the eighth floor of the building, I paid my homage to cheesecake. Real dinner plans with the bbf, along with the huge crowds, keep me from ordering a meal. But I can buy a piece to go...Mango Key Lime sounds about right.

After about another 45 mintues, I can't handle it any longer. While waiting for the bbf to get out of work, I hide out in a Starbucks with a coffee in one hand and my cheesecake in the other. I between bites, I'm writing this blog. My feet have been aching for hours now, but miraculously, with each bite, the pain seems to disappear a little. Cheesecake. It's the miracle cure.

I should patent it or something.