Another big storm stomped through last Friday. Far less heralded than the last few big ones, we didn't consider it a factor as we made our plans to drive to San Francisco for the weekend to celebrate Rachel's and Mike's birthdays (Mike's is 8 days prior to Rachel's, which was on Sunday). By Saturday morning, we were looking at another foot of snow on the patio table-gauge and everywhere else. Another thing we had was no power--again.They are two separate issues: that of being snowed in and that of having no power. This time the "snowed-in" side of the stormage equation was more of a concern, as we had actually planned to go somewhere. We did give it a try. We chained up the Suby and tried to drive from in front of the house (photo) up to the top of the driveway. We didn't make it.
We'd pretty-well decided that we were stuck. Around 3:45 in the afternoon, as Tom and I sat in the kitchen by a bright window doing puzzles and knitting (you figure out who was doing which), we heard the faint mechanical music of Super-Neighbor Scott's little snowplow chugging it's way up the long steep driveway. It took us an hour to pack and close down the house.
A rainy San Francisco seemed almost balmy as we picked up Dylan on our way to Rachel and Mike's. Their new place is in the Bernal Heights neighborhood, just south of the Mission area.
Dylan has just moved, as well, and Tom helped him on Sunday for an hour or so to finish up the process. His new digs are in the northern end of the Mission district. I have lost track of all the SF neighborhoods in which our kids have lived, but their transiency has helped us learn the city layout pretty thoroughly.
We got into town about 8, Emi joined us soon thereafter, and we all spent a wonderful evening eating Indian (the sub-continent) pizza (fabulous), playing Scattergories and laughing our heads off. Raining like crazy outside.
On Sunday, Rachel's birthday, the four of us went to tasty Mexican breakfast at a local hole-in-the-wall establishment. I ordered sopes, a rare treat. Later, after Tom and Dylan came back from schlepping sofas, we muddied up all our shoes in a nearby park throwing the flying round things which were among the birthday gifts. Clearly, Rachel and I need a little more practice. It's that last little flick of the wrist, I think.
All against the background of a bit of March Madness. Fun weekend. More brownies for Scott.
Tom and I drove home that night to a very cold (44 degrees inside) house and simply flicked on the lights...
