Category: Haightlife

General news and thinking about living in the Alderete-McCune household.

Another Day, Another Excuse…

How Saturday and Sunday didn’t turn out the way I’d planned, and whose fault it really was.

So, I have this programming assignment for a class, which is due on Wednesday. It’s a fairly sizable piece of work, and while I’ve been making steady progress for the three weeks I’ve had it, I’ve been counting on having a full day during this three-day weekend to finish it off.

Well, Saturday was frittered away horking around on my computer, updating a few dozen pieces of software, and reading some really good science fiction online.

After blowing Saturday, I really needed to be productive Sunday. I started out well enough, but then one orange juice and champaign became two while helping Rochelle get started with her baking. And then Hilda came down, and two became four. Or five. I returned to bed at about noon to take a nap and sleep off the booze.

My immediate instinct after waking up at 4pm (we were heading out to a dinner Rochelle was hosting at 5:00pm) was to look for a(n emotional) stick to beat Rochelle with, because it just had to be her fault (not mine). After several false starts, I finally found something that worked in the expensive smoked salmon that’s currently rotting in the refrigerator.

But then I realized, hey wait, I don’t need to pin this on Rochelle, because it was actually Hilda’s fault.

Timing Is Everything

So, the best hamburger in San Francisco is available at a place not too far from our house. It’s 1/2 pound of very high-quality beef, hand formed, and grilled to perfection by people who know that pushing down with a spatula on the patty while it’s cooking is a crime.

So, the best hamburger in San Francisco is available at a place not too far from our house. It’s 1/2 pound of very high-quality beef, hand formed, and grilled to perfection by people who know that pushing down with a spatula on the patty while it’s cooking is a crime.

They do 200 burgers one day a week, and when they run out, they’re gone. Too bad, try again next week. Their fame has spread wide and far, and they’re usually out well before we get there.

But tonight was different. I got home just before 8:00pm, and spied two burgers on the grill from across the street. I hustled over to place an order…three minutes too late. The last two burgers were those sizzling away, with claims already staked.

But when I got home a smile upon Rochelle’s face greeted me. She had gotten home a half-hour earlier. In other words, 27 minutes before they ran out. I ate my half burger, medium rare, with cheddar and chili and grilled onions, while typing this up.

And no, I am not going to tell you where this place is or what night they have burgers — you’re already eating my burgers, dammit!

Bay To Breakers

Rochelle and I have decided that the Bay To Breakers race in San Francisco is our annual “fat ass” check. If we can finish the race, we haven’t become complete fat asses.

Rochelle and I have decided that the Bay To Breakers race in San Francisco is our annual “fat ass” check. If we can finish the race, we haven’t become complete fat asses.

Yesterday was our first one, and we finished with a fairly respectable (for walkers) 2 hours 16 minutes, which basically means we stayed pretty close to 20 minute miles the entire way.

If you weren’t in the Bay Area over the weekend, you might not know that the weather on Sunday for the race was horrible. It rained on us pretty much the entire race, though never so hard that we decided to quit.

Oh, we both tried to get the other one to cave in. Rochelle offered that to me when we were getting up at 7:00am. “You don’t have to get up, honey, you can just staaaay in bed if you want to.” Knowing she’d have stick for the next 12 months.

Then about half way (well past the infamous Hayes Street Hill), when we were basically soaked to the skin, with nothing but a long, flat, boring walk in front of us, Rochelle wanted to bail. I told her I would be willing to go with her if she wanted to quit. And a little voice told her that would be a bad idea.

When we finished the official route there were thousands of people heading to Footstock (the traditional festival at the end). We decided that, given the rain, they were certifiable. We headed straight for the first Muni train, and were in a hot bath about an hour later.

A little sore today, but not much. I think we passed our first fat ass check.

Naked People

While walking the Bay To Breakers on Sunday, Rochelle and I counted 59 naked people.

While walking the Bay To Breakers on Sunday, Rochelle and I counted 59 naked people. Since we were moving with the race, we only saw people going faster or slower than we were, so this isn’t scientific or comprehensive.

Of these, all but 5 were men, and only two of the women were particularly nice to look at. The cold did unflattering things to the men, but the women had more, uh, favorable results.

That is, if you can call being cold, wet, and naked in the middle of SF “favorable”…

Accidents Will Happen

We got drunk by accident on Saturday. The next day Rochelle said “David wasn’t with us, we can’t blame him.”

“Yes,” I said, “But we can blame Hilda.”

We got drunk by accident on Saturday. The next day Rochelle said “David wasn’t with us, we can’t blame him.”

“Yes,” I said, “But we can blame Hilda.”

Spider-Man

Saw Spider-Man with Rochelle this morning. $14 for the tickets and $16 for the popcorn and drinks. We ate all the popcorn (two large bags). Good movie, recommended. But two full bags of popcorn was too much…

Saw Spider-Man with Rochelle this morning. $14 for the tickets and $16 for the popcorn and drinks. We ate all the popcorn (two large bags). Good movie, recommended. But two full bags of popcorn was too much…

Back From NYC

Rochelle and I just few back from NYC, and boy are our arms tired.

Rochelle and I just returned (on Sunday) from New York City. I went for an Important Company Meeting, and Rochelle came along to torture me and rant at my co-workers. At the end of one evening, on of them said slyly to me, “Note to self: never introduce wife to co-workers…”

The most fun thing we did was go to Les Halles for dinner on Friday night, without a reservation. When we got there it was pretty crowded, but the hostess estimated it would be 35 minutes for a table for two, and suggested we wait in the bar area.

We headed for the bar, where there was one stool available. Rochelle sat down, and then I leaned into her and whispered into her ear, “It’s him.”

“Him” was Anthony Bourdain, the executive chef, and author of Kitchen Confidential, a book Rochelle and I literally fought over while we were reading it, allowing the other to take a turn reading it only with the greatest reluctance. He was sitting on the bar stool to Rochelle’s left.

After a few moments he turned and noticed us, and then offered his seat to me. I protested, not wanting to kick the chef out of his seat, but he insisted: “It’s OK, I work here.”

Good Eats

The best food show on the Food Network is Alton Brown’s “Good Eats”.

After many many months of yearning, begging, and filling out surveys our local cable company finally caved into us, and brought the Food Network to San Francisco. Everyone knows Emerile is the “big star” on that channel, and indeed he has many devoted fans. We’re not among them.

The best show has had quieter success. Not many people who don’t watch 2+ hours of the Food Network a day (fast forwarded) know the name Alton Brown, but if you like good food, you should.

Alton’s show, Good Eats, is part traditional cooking show, part comedy, and part Mr. Science. It’s got great writing, tells you a lot about food chemistry without being in-your-face educational, every show has a different theme, and Alton himself is tremendously engaging.

It’s the best thing since…uh, no, I can’t do it…you figure it out…

Too Soon

I spoke too soon. Cecil has the same thing that Meebee had before Rochelle and I got married. We caught it much earlier, so he’ll get more benefit from the chemotherapy, but he does have intestinal cancer.

I spoke too soon. Cecil has the same thing that Meebee had before Rochelle and I got married. We caught it much earlier, so he’ll get more benefit from the chemotherapy, but he does have intestinal cancer.

By the Pound

In related news, we spent $800 on tests for our 16-year old cat, Cecil, to learn that nothing is really wrong with him, except he’s old. A recent “Rhymes with Orange” comic strip explains that you should not think about these things by weight.

In related news, we spent $800 on tests for our 16-year old cat, Cecil, to learn that nothing is really wrong with him, except he’s old.

A recent “Rhymes with Orange” comic strip explains that you should not think about these things by weight. He’s lost almost three pounds over the last year, making this appointment only slightly less expensive than good caviar…