Heat Wave

So, boo boo got to experience lots of fun new things this weekend. All of which will serve to torture him later. You want to go to a Giants game? But you went when you were 26 weeks- remember? It was boiling outside and you complained the whole time and kept asking for ice cream. I'm gonna be an awesome mom.

It was unusually hot this weekend for San Francisco standards, which means it got in the 80's. Not really anything notable from the perspective of anywhere else I've lived, but I have very quickly turned into one of those California types that cannot tolerate anything outside of their 15 degrees of standard comfort level that we have all grown so accustomed to. So being at this baseball game, drenched in a mix of sweat and sunscreen was downright miserable until I parked myself in unclaimed seats higher up, under some shade. After the game we walked around pathetically trying to get food (me) and drinks (everyone else) somewhere that would serve us right away. Of course we were competing with the thousands of other spectators that walked out of the stadium at the same time. We finally settled on a place. After devouring my first entree- a delicious pulled pork sandwich with fries, I decided I was still hungry. The mac n cheese listed on the kids' menu, along with a root beer float, sounded like the perfect combination to both satisfy me and make me feel like an 8 year old. I was understandably disappointed when I was served Kraft mac n cheese. I kid you not. I've opened that blue box enough times in my day to know it when I see it, and I was served about 35 cents worth of Kraft macaroni and cheese for $4.95. Our friend Randall, on the other hand, received a different surprise with his order of hot wings. There, among the chicken, was a lone piece of bacon drenched in hot sauce. Why? How? Just some of the questions we never did answer. Surprising and somewhat disturbing was the lack of surprise or interest the waiter expressed when he was told. Even more surprising was how delicious the combination was, according to Randall. I'll take his word for it.

The heat was even less appreciated on Sunday, the day of Bay to Breakers. A pregnant girl running a 12k in SF is enough of a challenge; I didn't need the added heat factor. I ended up running about 4.5 miles of it (minus 3/4 of the Hayes hill), and then walked the last 3 miles with Gerard when I saw him on the sidelines cheering me on. It was very nice to see and finish with him, especially because it was the exact time my back really started bothering me for the first time in my pregnancy. What we didn't take into account, at least fully, was that Gerard parked near his cheering spot at mile 4.5. And the finish line was at mile 7.5. Which means the car is another 3 miles away. Sweet. Obviously by this point my shirt was long gone. Which I didn't think would be a big deal, considering we were amongst a crowd of well over 50,000 runners, dressed as anything from Santa Claus, to warriors, to dozens of downright naked people. But apparently you can never underestimate people's tendency to stare at a pregnant belly. People were giving double-takes, pointing it out to their friends; I felt like a sideshow. I'm surprised people didn't try to get their picture taken with me. Hey! It's a pregnant girl! Look Ma- a real life pregnant girl!!!