Yes! I know there is supposed to be a Secret Bachelor Tuesday (Slash Wednesday) forthcoming, but I have a few other things to get off my chest before that, and besides, it's not like anything on Secret Bachelor Tuesday (Slash Wednesday) is really going to be all that much of a surprise! I mean, there are roses and hot tubs and girls talking about connections and journeys, and really that does not change at all from week to week, so you're not exactly missing anything. You know what? You could go and talk to that annoying girl in accounts who dots her "i"s with a heart and starts every email with "hey ladies!" and is always talking about happy hour and oversharing about her boy troubles, and really you might as well have watched The Bachelor for an hour and a half anyway. You do not need a recap. Not for a day or so at least.
Because now I would like to talk about my weekend! What did you do on your weekend? For our weekend, we had a picnic! It was very hot in San Francisco, for, like, the first time since 1974, and by hot I mean upper 70s, and so Sean and I hightailed it across the Golden Gate Bridge on Saturday and went to Rodeo Beach, where we had a lovely picnic on a grassy cliff perched above the Pacific Ocean.
You have to understand, Sean and I are not very good at Doing Things with our weekends. Mostly our weekends consist of doing errands and chores, catching up on laundry, paying a few bills, and maybe watching an overdue Netflix DVD we've had since Wednesday (in fact, Sunday was spent as thus. But with even more errands and chores and laundry.) Sometimes we push the boat out and go to the grocery store. Occasionally we go for a walk. If we so much as venture to Target, you might as well alert the San Francisco Chronicle. Sometimes we get together with Jemima and her Dimpled Husband and they say "what have you guys been doing this weekend? We've been surfing and snow-shoeing and we cooked a gourmet dinner, and also we went to Napa, and we even did some cross-country skiing and tutored a few refugee orphans!" And we say "uh, our biggest achievement was getting up before 10am. Also, we went to brunch."
So for us, a picnic (three kinds of cheese, a sourdough baguette, olives, salami, white cheese popcorn, grapes, Orangina, English toffee, whatever, I would have asked too) was quite a feat. Also, we did a hike! And did you know a hike is just a walk? It sounds so much better, of course, when you call it a hike, but I'd certainly be inclined to do more hikes if I knew they were just Fancy Walks. You don't even need special shoes or anything! Or PowerBars! And you don't even get out of breath! Hikes are, like, the best exercise ever, if only because you get to feel so smug about them afterwards.
Speaking of smug, I ventured back into the gym for the first time in, ooh, let's not go there, and I was decidedly overwhelmed by it. I honestly didn't know there was so much lycra in the world, or so many 23-year-old girls willing to display such an ample amount of flesh in it. How the hell did I join The Hot Gym? I did not want to join The Hot Gym, I wanted to join the gym where I could work out in my TJ Maxx sweatpants and my free company t-shirt, the one where no-one would laugh if I walked into the mirror because I thought it was another part of the gym, and yet, no, I ended up joining a place that might as well be a nightclub for all the ogling that goes on. It was incredibly intimidating! Also, it was incredibly crowded! Its only saving grace, in fact, was that it did not have the peekaboo showers, which was something I had equated with San Francisco gyms for a long time (thanks, Wood), something that---if I am to be honest---put me off even joining this one in the first place, EVEN THOUGH IT'S IN THE LOBBY OF MY OFFICE BUILDING and really, how hard to put off is that? I was terrified that this gym might have the peekaboo showers, that this was the sort of thing all San Francisco gyms had, and that I would be forced to shower in these peekaboo showers, OR WORSE, watch other people showering in them. Luckily, this gym does not have the peekaboo showers. It does, however, have the distinct air of a meat market. And I'm not talking about the smell in the locker rooms.
*PS -- Yes, this title has nothing to do with this post, and also it does not make too much sense because obviously we HAVE crossed this bridge when we've come to it---I mean, honestly, what else would you do with a bridge? You can't turn around, people will honk at you!---but I have also consumed two glasses of champagne and 0.75 of a cheese plate at the time of writing, so really, what of it? (Champagne, it seems, makes me belligerent. See also: Why, You Don't Need a Secret Bachelor Tuesday Yet! argument from earlier.) Also, Sean took these pictures. You should probably know that in case he gets famous. He's going to be in the July/August issue of This Old House, you know. We should all buy a copy and keep it on our coffee tables.