San Franciscans' Weekend Strategy: Escape the City!

It's a very odd practice for us, having come from Manhattan.

In NYC, we would "weekend" in the city.  Granted, we didn't have the money for a place in the Hamptons, but I don't think that's why we so often decided not to leave the island.  First off, I never wanted to give up my parking spot.  On most Fridays I would've fought for at least an hour to find one, so there was no way I was leaving just to go through that again.  Another reason was the accessibility of the city.  We could get anywhere via cab, subway, or shoes.  And the wealth of options for entertainment was, quite simply, more than we could ever ask for.  Sometimes we'd simply stay in just because there were too many options from which to choose.

In San Francisco, however, there seems to be a pervasive culture of "escaping the city" on the weekends.  Perhaps I'm wrong in this - having lived here only two months, and in the Richmond District at that - but I've definitely gotten the impression that most San Franciscans use their weekends not to explore the city, but the achingly beautiful natural wonders that surround it.

I've been trying to figure out why this is.  Part of it, I think, has to do with how transportation in the city works.  A combination of MUNI buses and BART can get you places, but not very conveniently and not with much stuff.  A car, however, can get you anywhere.  And unlike Manhattan, parking is relatively convenient and inexpensive.  More difficult than most cities, but still quite manageable.  With SF still being geared toward the car, despite the almost militaristic bicycle lobby, most residents still own at least one.  And this, I think, leads many SF residents to explore beyond the boundaries of home.  That and a lot of fog!

It's a very different way of living, I have to admit, but Sumie and I are getting used to it.  This weekend started for us on Friday, when we drove the 5 blocks (this would never have happened in Manhattan) to go to "Ju-Ku," a Japanese izakaya in the Richmond District.

Mimi, for once, was actually relatively well behaved.  Maybe she knew just how much her father wanted to enjoy his kushiage (Japanese fried food on sticks).  Dinner was very good, and featured the best Japanese fried chicken (karaage) that I've had in years.  Better than my own.  I left the restaurant very satisfied and a little envious.

On Saturday we headed up to Mill Valley, a small town off 101 in Marin County, to visit a great toy store we'd learned about and to explore Marin a bit more.  We really loved it up there.  It's strange.  In NYC, 10 to 15 miles out of Manhattan felt like an eternity, but here it feels absurdly close.  I can't help but think that we'll probably end up outside of San Francisco proper in a few years.  Well, we'll see.  Perhaps I'll look back on this entry in a year or two and be amazed at how ignorant and naive I'd been.

From Mill Valley we drove up to what must have been California's busiest In-n-Out Burger.  It was well worth the wait, though.  Those burgers never get old.  I can taste them now, actually.

After lunch we headed down, and then back up, into the the Marin Headlands.  What a perfect day for it.  Completely clear and a sunny 70 degrees.  This was, I think, around the time NYC was going through a snowstorm.  I guess some things are better on the west coast.  The view of San Francisco and the Golden Gate from the headlands was breathtaking.  Naturally, I had forgotten my good camera, so these pics come via iPhone.  They don't really do the sight justice.  

I've loved the Marin Headlands since I was a kid.  One of the primary reasons are the numerous military installations, particularly cannon batteries, that dot the area.  We visited the "Wallace Battery," constructed in 1942 out of fear of a possible Japanese attack on the West Coast.  The cannon are gone, but the fortifications remain.

Nature has definitely been creeping back, but that makes the sites all the more fun to explore.  Mimi enjoyed "foofing" seeds from a puff-plant (wish I knew the name of it as, given that I don't, I'm going to be shunned by my botanically pretentious sister).

Getting out of the city really was a welcome change.  And I've a feeling that if I lived outside SF, coming in for a dinner or a trip to the museum would feel just as exciting.  Looking forward to learning more about where our family be on the bay in the years to come.

I Love You, But Please...Stop Helping Me!

Last night we hosted a small dinner for two of Sumie's friends from medical school.  One of the girls brought along her two 6 month old puppies, which completely made Mimi's day. 

They were a bit more energetic than her old friend Harrychan was, so she'd get a bit scared at times, but on the whole, she really enjoyed it.  I'd have to say that, behavior wise, she was on par with the dogs.  And given that they're 3.5 in dog years already, that's not too bad a showing for Mimi.  

Mimi didn't fall asleep last night until almost 10.  I was rather surprised by this.  Granted, the dogs definitely brought out some baby adrenaline, but Mimi had been going full blast all day.  Not one to sit idly by, Mimi insisted on helping me clean house and prepare dinner.  This meant that every task I attempted took 17 times longer than normal.  Below is a quick look at how Mimi "helps" us around the house.

The day's help often begins in the bathroom.  Mimi swipes the shower squeegee from me and thoughtfully cleans the outside of the glass shower doors, which are, naturally, perfectly dry and streak free.  She'll get through 2 or 3 swipes, each accompanied by an almost guttural "wheeeee!", before she moves on to wiping down the cabinets, hallway walls, and television.  The squeegee eventually ends up in the living room, most often under the piano bench, but only after Mimi has taken another bite out of one of the poor squeegee's corners. 

After that, it's time to get dressed.  Mimi runs to the dresser and immediately picks out an outfit.  Unfortunately, these outfits usually consist of a sweatshirt and 7 pairs of pants, so I always have to make a few substitutions.  Out of sight, of course. 

 Picking up after Mimi during the day isn't much of a challenge, but cleaning up the house, with Mimi still in it, is well nigh impossible.  Let's say I want to put away Mimi's toy chest.  That's code, at least to Mimi, for her to jump inside it. 

The only way to get her out is via distraction.  Thankfully, she's a sucker for Star Wars, much like her father.

Mimi loves books, which makes me very happy, but she doesn't quite understand the concept of putting them away.  She prefers them strewn across the floor.  So, whenever I start shelving books, Mimi takes this as her cue to take out as many as possible.  In fact, in the middle of that last sentence, I had to get up and remove from Mimi's violent hands my copy of "Open" by Andre Agassi.  In four seconds she had pulled the book off the shelf and ripped the dedications page.  Nice work, Mimi. 

I have always loved books, but living with a toddler has shown me that there's one thing I hate about them: dust jackets.  They make having a library with a child a living hell.  And whoever came up with the insidiously fiendish idea of putting these on children's books should, quite simply, be tortured with a very pointy fork.   

Putting away toys is another challenge.  For some reason, whenever I put a toy into Mimi's toy basket she interprets this as me wanting her to immediately take that same toy back out and throw it across the room.  I don't really enjoy this game, but Mimi certainly does.  Here we are attempting to put away her stacking rings.  Note the 1978 Remote Control R2D2 in the background.  It's one of her favorite toys.

As I was putting away a few of her books the other day, Mimi decided to lift this same R2D2 over her head and then drop him squarely on her big toe.  It's amazing just how quickly cleaning up books can shift to cleaning up blood when you have a toddler.  And yet, I'm a bit happy Mimi hurt her foot.  We now have something new in common.  I lost a nail after inadvertently smashing my big toe with a "Return of the Jedi" arcade cabinet.  Father and daughter, each with a digit damaged by the work of George Lucas. 

As I bring this entry to a close the house is, amazingly, still quite clean.  It feels good.  And, if I'm lucky, it will remain this way for another 20 or even 30 minutes.

Compromising Hairstyles

Mimi was born with a mop top.  At one week she boasted more hair than her follically-challenged father.  At least in the back.  

Sumie and I considered trimming the mop from time to time, but we couldn't bring ourselves to submit to it.  The longer it grew, the curlier, and cuter, it got.  And so, the months flew by and the hair continued its rapid advance downward.

At 17 months, though, push had come to shove.  Something had to be done.  The situation was so dire that Mimi couldn't even play the piano without her hair blocking the keyboard!

Knowing that there's not a hairstylist alive for whom Mimi would sit still, I took the job into my own hands.  What drove me to it?  Well, this morning I caught a glimpse of my own hair in the mirror.  

 Genes aren't kind and I knew that if I didn't do something, Mimi could soon be suffering from the same plight as her father.


A bang trim was in order.  I set up her highchair and tied her favorite sleeping blanket, which needed to be washed anyway, around her neck, old-timey barber style.

I then wet down her hair with No-More-Tangles.  This made for some straight, manageable, but greasy hair.  A few forward strokes from the brush and my canvas was ready.  Except for one thing.  It was moving all over the place.

The actual cutting was, by far, the most difficult part.  I really didn't want for Sumie to come home to find her daughter wearing an eye-patch, though I guess it would've made the selection of her Halloween costume a no brainer.  After several attempts at cutting her bangs like one would at a salon, and being repaid with fierce head shaking, I took up a new strategy.  Starting on Mimi's right, I gathered a few strands of hair, perhaps 20% of her bangs, and then snipped.  I repeated the process across her forehead until I reached the other side.  Amazingly, it came out fairly even!  Not sure how that happened, but I'll take it. 

Mimi was unsure of the new look at first,

but I think that she was reasonably satisfied.  After all, the price was right! 

Somehow I don't think we'll be able to wait another 17 months before we take a pair of shears to Mimi's locks.  Maybe next time we'll actually brave a salon.  I just hope we can find one that offers general anesthesia.

Mouth of Sand, Walk of Shame

Toddlers fall over.  It's what they do.  It's their past-time, passion, and preferred method of getting to the floor quickly.  When an adult, running full speed, falls flat on his face, people cringe.  When a toddler does it, they laugh. 

Mimi, like all girls her age, falls over constantly.  90% of the time she picks herself up, dusts herself off, and continues on her way.  But every once in a while, when she gets a little hurt or a little scared, she lets her displeasure known.  And when Mimi's displeased, she makes sure that everyone within a 10 block radius knows it.  She's quite adept at getting her point across, but this, unfortunately, comes with unintended consequences.  Passersby tend to feel sympathy for the screamer, but very little affection for the screamer's keeper. 

As a man walking the streets of San Francisco alone with a baby, I can't help but feel I'm constantly being evaluated.  Yes, men have been emancipated to a certain degree when it comes to child care, but our abilities are still very much, believe me, in question.  When Mimi is in cute mode, kicking back in her stroller and saying "Hi!" to every dog she sees, I'm a champion father.  When she's kicking and screaming, I get looks that seem to say, "Shouldn't you be locked away awaiting your war crimes trial?"  And when Mimi takes a small tumble at the park - me being the only man surrounded by mothers - I may as well be the bastard child of Stalin and Joan Rivers.  

Our trip to the park did not begin well.  We stopped by the coffee shop to say "Hi" to Mama, who had left the house to study in peace.  2 minutes into our visit Mimi decided that she wanted to "borrow" the reading materials from everyone in the shop.  This did not go over well, so I packed her back into the stroller and set out for the park.  As Mimi wailed, I walked out the door, my head held low.  Half-way down the block a woman stopped in her tracks and simply stared at Mimi, slowly pivoting, and then shaking, her head as we ambled past.  Mimi screamed her way to the park, exchanging shouts of anger for squeals of joy once the playground equipment came into view. 

Once there, Mimi played quite well.  She started off with the slides and, of course, a few trips through the yellow tunnel. 

Then it came time for playing in the sand.  I brought out her bucket and shovels and she set to work.  Before long she had been joined by two additional playmates, one three year old and one 15 month old.  After a while she was even beginning to share some of the sand toys.  Not the ones she brought, of course, but at least she wasn't hoarding.

The outing was going well.  I'm still a bit shy when it comes to talking to other parents (I'm a bit of an introvert and not that good at small talk), but this time I was actually having good conversations with several of the parents.  I was feeling comfortable, confident.  Maybe I could be seen as a good parent, despite my gender handicap.  And that's when Mimi decided to take a tumble.

Mimi had climbed out of the sandpit, which has a six inch ledge, and then decided that she wanted to get back in, only this time riding the scooter of one of her playmates.  I managed to stop her the first 6 times, but on her seventh attempt, she succeeded.  Baby and scooter tumbled into the sandpit.

The tumble was minor, she'd been though far worse without complaint, but it must have scared the dickens out of her.  Sand in her mouth and tears in her eyes, Mimi let forth a shriek - one cannot even classify it as a mere shout, scream, or cry - that was picked up on seismological equipment as far as Malaysia. 

The mothers there with me, rather than being judgmental, were actually very helpful and kind.  They even congratulated me for calming her down so quickly (I had to use milk).  But, as I left the park, I couldn't help but feel I'd let all the other stay-at-home dads here in San Francisco, and across the country, down.  That's why, despite the embarrassment, I had to blog about it. 

One of my biggest challenges with being a stay-at-home dad has been a constant anxiety of being judged.  Part of this, I think, comes from me wanting to prove that men can do this parenting thing just as well as women, but I think it also stems from my own insecurity when it comes to doing right by Mimi.  It's not that I want to assuage her every frustration or protect her from every danger - she'll never really learn to be independent that way - I just want to guide her the best I can so that she can continue to walk her own path.  And not scream too much along the way!

Insanity is... Living with a 16 Month Old

With raising a toddler one cannot help but contemplate the definition of "insanity" from time to time.

Albert Einstein's definition - insanity: doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results - is a good one, and fits Mimi well, but my favorite so far takes his idea a bit further.

Insanity is knowing that what you're doing is completely idiotic, but still, somehow, you just can't stop it.
-Elizabeth Wurtzel

This definition fits Mimi, and Sumie and I for that matter, to a "T".  OK, I understand that some may think that Mimi doesn't always recognize that what she's doing is idiotic, but I beg to differ.  I don't care how old you are.  If you walk into a room, point at a sink, and then proceed to scream for 20 seconds for no reason you know full well that what you are doing is idiotic.   

Having a good definition for insanity doesn't preclude one from partaking in it, unfortunately.  One must be able to recognize insane behavior in order to steer clear of it.  Luckily, Mimi provides me with countless examples everyday.  Below are a few of the highlights from the past several days.

Insanity is...

insisting that your Miffychan toy box is actually a race car / lounge chair / art studio hybrid.

Insanity is...

thinking that wearing a baseball cap 42 sizes too large backwards makes you look tough.

Insanity is...

Papa allowing Mimi to gorge on milk on the nice furniture just because it's cute when she wants to be like Mama.

Insanity is...

closing a door you know you can't open...

and then banging on it because it's closed...

and then leaving the living room to go through the kitchen and down the hallway to bang on the other side of the door you just closed because you want to get into the room you just left.

Insanity is...

Spending 15 minutes getting the couch cushions just how you want them to cuddle up with an electronic device that you can neither read nor turn on.

Insanity is...
me thinking what life would be like without Mimi.

Insanity is...
knowing I'm stuck with this little girl for life and not wanting it any other way.

Full Moon, Empty Aquarium

Life in San Francisco is often a bit grey - grey skies, grey sidewalks, grey parking regulations, and grey loitering laws.

The clouds tend to come in shortly after, if not before, the sun goes down, obscuring the stars and moon.  So last night, with its unmuddied sky and full moon, was a rare opportunity to dabble in a little night photography.

We don't have much of a view from our backyard - just more backyards and backs of homes.  But at night, with the sky lit by the moon and resident windows still twinkling with the last lights before bed, it can be rather pretty.

I should've gone over to the park, or at least to the top of our block, to take some more shots, but didn't.  I was lazy.  I did take Mimi for a long bike ride that day - she still hates her helmet and screams for up to 9 blocks to remind me - so maybe it's OK that I just came in and went to bed.

The following morning Mimi and I woke up early and took advantage of our close proximity to the Academy of Sciences.  We have a membership, so we can go anytime, and it's free!

Regular readers of this blog may remember our visit here with my Mom about a month back.  The day we went - the third Wednesday of the month - featured free admission (this was before I got my membership), so the museum was packed.  It made Shinjuku station in Tokyo seem tranquil by comparison.  What a joy it was to sneak down to the aquarium this morning and have it virtually to ourselves.  The photos below were taken in low light and with my phone (it was too early in the morning for me to remember my camera), so I apologize if they're a bit grainy/fuzzy. 

Walking to the elevators, Mimi was a bit unsure of the plexiglass beneath her feet.  Could she trust it?  The rays below her feet were a bit intimidating.

 Once in the aquarium Mimi ran for the huge floor-to-ceiling plexiglass wall.  I'm glad the walls were thick.  She loved banging on them.  She also tended to forget that the walls were there, which resulted in some significant head banging.  Ah, my daughter the metal-head.

By 10 a few school groups had arrived, which both delighted and distracted Mimi.  She joined multiple tours without asking, and often offered her unsolicited opinion of "Aaahhhh!, Bi-doh!" on the exhibits.

After about an hour Mimi was ready to go.  As we walked out into the sunshine we passed well over 100 kids lined up for a tour.  The museum had been gradually filling all morning and it had been getting harder for Mimi to toddle with impunity.  I think we'll make it a habit of going early in the morning.  That same strategy seems to work quite well here in SF.  The city is full of late risers.  More on the advantages this provides sometime in the future.

All told, it was a good day out.  We passed the playground, inadvertently, on our way home.  While were were still over 100 yards away, with but a blurry glimpse of half a slide in sight, Mimi began to go nuts. She saw the park, knew what she wanted, and made it known.  I had to "release" her from her stroller a good 30 yards before the sandpit.

If only she could get that excited about eating lunch or going to bed!

Words are Highly Underrated

Mimi's vocabulary is developing day by day.

We speak to her in both English and Japanese, though English seems to be dominant these days.  We'll eventually balance that by enrolling her in a Japanese preschool here in SF.

At a little over 16 months, she's already developing a working vocabulary.  I guess that's a result of her being so headstrong.  She wants what she wants.  And she's beginning to realize that the only way she'll get it is by asking for it.  As such, her vocabulary has grown substantially in terms of nouns.

Here's a selection, with their phonetic equivalents where applicable, of Mimi's vocabulary:

Mama:  Mother
Papa:  Father
Mimi:  Herself
Wan-wan (Japanese): doggie
Nyan-nyan (Japanese): kitty
Bi:  Bib
Buh (book) / Huh (hon, Japanese)): Book
Ne-ne (Japanese): Sleep
Shuz: Socks and Shoes
Die-pah: Diaper
No, Arghh!, Wah!: No
Joos: Juice
Doh-zoh (Japanese): here you go
Goh!:  Let's go
Bah-bah:  Bottle
Stah-pi!:  Stop it!
Yo-ee-sho (Japanese):  Ah, there we go

There are more, I'm sure, but it's hard to recall all of them.  Imagine coming up with every word you know.  It's tough! 

Of course, her working vocabulary, what she understands when spoken to her, is far larger.  She's able to understand some basic commands, but only when she wants to.  If I ask her to get her shoes, she'll seek them out.  When I want her to pick up her blanket in the morning or after a nap, she does so without a fuss.  When it comes to eating her dinner, she just turns her head and screams. 

She's also become a veritable mocking bird.  The other day, while making burritos, she piped up with "tortillas!"  It wasn't repeated again, but she got it just right the first time.  A week or so before, while I was looking for Mimi's immunization records, I dropped a box on my foot.  Under my breath, not knowing she was right behind me, I whispered, "shit."  And a half second later, five feet below me, I heard a gentle little "shih!"  Sumie and I definitely have to be careful.

Still, we can't help but teach her a few bad things.  After all, we don't want her to be a goody-two-shoes!  Sumie and I tend to tease each other in the evening.  When it comes to teasing Sumie, it's all about her glaring lack of street-smarts and mechanical intuition.   For me, the massive gut, hick-town upbringing, and ongoing lack of a job come into play.  Regardless of the topic, the teasing usually devolves into one of us saying, "Stop it!" and teasingly smacking the other.  This has had an unexpected impact on Mimi.  Her first "phrase" was "stah-pit," combined with a little smack to the leg.

But it's not only her words that are developing.  Mimi's been picking up some of our routines as well.  When it comes to closing doors, she's all over it.  She even makes sure her fingers are out of the way.  Say it's time to climb the stairs.  Not only will Mimi remove her shoes before going up, she'll even close the child proof gate!  But our favorite is when Mimi decides it's time to throw something away.  She'll pick something up off the floor, such as a miniscule piece of onion skin, open the cupboard door below the sink, place the paper-thin refuse in the trash, and then close the door.

Once the cupboard door is closed, she'll then secure it with the child-proof latch.  Rather ingenious, I think. 

We're continuing to read her books each day, in English and Japanese, and share music, both children's songs and classical.  She's learning more and more.  Hopefully she'll soon be able to use all the words in that little brain of hers to start asking for things.  That would be wonderful.  Screaming and pointing, I have to admit, is getting a little old.

A Baby, a Bicycle, and an Out-of-Shape Papa

Thanks to the insidious and ridiculous California vehicle emissions laws, we are now a one-car family.

The California Smog Board and I go way back.  It's been a contentious relationship, to say the least.  My first Karmann Ghia, a red 1968 beauty, had been converted to dual carburetors.  As such, even though it ran cleaner than a stock engine, it failed the visual smog inspection.  Lucky for me, my father managed to total the car before we had to convert it back to stock.  My second Karmann Ghia also struggled passing environmental muster.  My Porsche 914 passed with flying colors when I first bought it but, after two years, the rubber attachment to the smog pump had worn out.  They don't make them anymore.  It took 3 months to smog that car.

And so it came as no surprise that my 1994 BMW, which passed the emissions test with flying colors in New York, failed miserably here in California.  It looks like it will cost more than the car is worth to get it to pass smog, and that's only good for two years.  And so, with my poor car in storage awaiting a sympathetic mechanic or charitable donation, we are a one car family.


For the most part it's working out rather well.  Sumie is able to take the bus to work 2 to 3 days out of the week, so I have the car about half the time.  Our neighborhood is definitely walkable - and I need the exercise - so when I'm without the car Mimi and I limit our adventures to the stroller accessible.


Walking, for the most part, has been great, but it has severely limited our range.  Without the car we can venture, at most, a mile or so out before we need to come trudging back.  Mimi's patience and my feet have kept us rather close to home and with so much to see in Golden Gate Park and the Presidio, we were really missing out.  We needed a new form of transport.  We needed a bicycle. 


And now we have one.  Well, I guess technically we've always had it, just not with us.  My red Schwinn mountain bike, purchased brand new when I was in 6th grade, has been rescued from storage and brought back into operation.  This is the same bicycle I rode in college.  The same bike that survived a 20mph collision with a three-foot pole, a misjudgement on my part that sent me flying, shoeless, a good 10 feet or more.  It's good to have it back.


I picked up a bicycle trailer for hauling Mimi.  I'm not the most coordinated of men, so I'd rather Mimi be safely behind me in a topple-proof cart than strapped to the frame of my bike when I inevitably fall over.

Our first ride was short, but a lot of fun.  We covered, at most, 40 blocks with only a few minor hills.  With pit stops we were out a scant 30 minutes, but by the time I returned, my legs were throbbing, my lungs burning, and my head pounding.  The Mimi-trailer package weighs about 50lbs - a considerable payload for a bicycle - but it's no excuse for my severe huffing and puffing.  I had thought with all my walking that I was building some strength and stamina.  I had thought wrong.  And so, now that I have my own helmet and a sturdy bike lock, we're going to do some exploring and try to get Papa back into at least "mildly morbid" shape.


I hope that Mimi enjoys these bicycle outings we'll be taking.  She liked the first one just fine save for one continual annoyance: her helmet.  She loves playing with it at home - ripping out the pads and twisting them into her hair - but when it comes to wearing it, she's not a fan.  Here she is before our ride.  Note that she's using both hands in a vain attempt to rip that helmet off.

And here she is upon our return.  She's still trying to remove that pesky helmet, but at least she's down to one hand.  Maybe that had to do with the death grip she had on her bottle. 

No idea when I'll have a car of my own again.  Maybe sometime in 2012, maybe 2013.  But I am sure of two things.  1. Mimi and I will be going on plenty of bike rides on non-rainy days; 2. My next car will be a 1975 or older.  California Smog Exempt!

An Average Evening: Lemons, Helicopters, and Passing Out

On most evenings we have about 2-3 hours after Sumie gets home before Mimi goes to bed.  This is our family time and it's generally filled with cooking and eating dinner, washing up, putting Mimi's toys away seven or eight times, the occasional bath, and reading stories.  It's a pretty full slate for only three hours, but Mimi is somehow able to impose her own agenda as well each night.

Several nights ago Mimi decided to take a liking to lemons.  Around 6:30pm she decided that lemons were her new favorite toy.  I still don't fully understand the attraction - she doesn't drink lemonade, take lemon in her milk, poach halibut in a lemon butter sauce, or even suck on sour lemon drops - but I suppose they are colorful, smell good, fun to throw, and make a satisfying "thunk" when they land on the kitchen tile. 

Mimi managed to play with this basket of yellow citrus for over an hour. 

 I think she'll enjoy lemonade in the future.  Here she is attempting to drink a lemon.  She doesn't quite have the concept, yet. 

The evening isn't all about citrus love, however.  Mimi's joys are always counterbalanced by things that make her scream, whine, or cower.  This time it was my remote control helicopter.  This noisy little flea, which weighs little more than an ounce or so, struck abject terror into Mimi at first. 

But with time, and a few gentle passes overhead, she began to find it interesting. 

By the end of the evening she'd applaud each successful landing.  And yes, it is difficult to fly a helicopter and to take pictures at the same time.

I've always loved machines, but I had no idea one could bond so quickly with a helicopter.  It makes me wonder.  Does she think it's an animal, like her stuffed dog and cat?  Does it have free will in her world?  Does it want to be friends?  Can it be trusted?  Why does Papa sometimes follow it around the house?  I wish that I could peek inside. 

Once we're done with dinner, and we've gone through Mimi's flashcards and a few books, it's time for Mimi's bedtime bottle.  I guess it had been a long day because Mimi, who usually sucks down her bottle in 5 minutes to return to play, was soon completely passed out.  Must've been some pretty strong milk...

Tuckered out, Papa takes her to bed.  At 16 months she's just taken to laying her head on my shoulder.  She'd always keep her head up as an infant, but now that she's a little older she seems to take some comfort in Papa's ample padding.  Maybe it's just that the house is rather cold and Papa radiates a lot of heat...

Mimi generally sleeps through the night and wakes the next morning ready to play.  Here she is still in her jammies.  She insisted that I take this picture in front of my MacBook with my iPhone as a little "thank you" to Steve Jobs.  She knows the role he played in making sharing Mimi's life so much easier than it would have been even 5 years ago. 

But with each passing there is a new arrival.  Just this morning Mimi learned that she has a new baby cousin.  Haruki Ling was born this morning to Kae and Eddie Ling around 6:00am!  Mimi will be working hard to become a good role model for him, I'm sure of it. 

Chance of Rain: 30%; Chance of Meltdown: 100%

Going out with Mimi is always a gamble.  No matter how much milk we take or how many toys we pack, she will eventually have a meltdown.  It's just a matter of time.  We've gotten to the point now that we usually reach home, or at least the car, before the histrionics begin.  But there are times when Mimi just simply loses it and cannot be consoled.  And so, each trip out, no matter how exciting the prospects, begins with a slight sense of trepidation.  Will we get through the event without mishap?  Will I be able to navigate the streets of San Francisco, which I'm still learning, in peace, or accompanied by piercing screams?  Will the strangers we pass think of me as a calm and collected father or as a man so incompetent when it comes to parenting that even sea monkeys should be spared from my care?  Will the outing end with a smile on my face or tear and saliva stains on my shirt?

As you may have guessed, we tend to choose our outings carefully.  Last weekend the Farmers' Market at the Ferry Building seemed like a safe bet.  And, thankfully, it was a welcome and wonderful outing. 

We arrived at the market early.  Well, early for us.  Getting anywhere with Mimi by 10:00 in the AM is quite an accomplishment.  Fresh fruit and vegetable stands surrounded the renovated ferry building, along with a number of food venders, each with a considerable line.  We browsed through the stalls with Mimi in her stroller.  The serene shopping lasted a good 15 minutes.

When Mimi began to squirm and moan Sumie pulled her out and, instead of carrying her, allowed her to toddle alongside the stroller for the first time.  We were amazed.  What a walker she turned out to be!  This allowed us to head over to the Golden Gate Meat Company to get some pastrami.  A quick note on this pastrami: on "Yelp" it is voted as one of the city's best, but that's just not the case.  It is delicious, but it tastes far more like smoked brisket than pastrami.  If you're wanting pastrami, this isn't it.  Ok, back to the story...

With "pastrami" and breakfast sandwiches in hand, we headed out to the benches overlooking the bay.  Mimi ate standing up - her preferred eating position when we're out - and quickly polished off half the breakfast sandwich.  Full, she decided to befriend a little Japanese girl sitting next to us.  They didn't talk much, but they did seem to like each others' shoes.  Just before we went back into the market a kindly man offered to take a picture of us.

The fruits and vegetables at the farmers' market are amazing, but by no means cheap.  Don't even pretend to think you're going to get a deal here.

The standout item of the day, which was also a bit pricey, was a natural soda carbonated by lactic fermentation.  Very cool and very tasty.  Even Mimi enjoyed it, though half the soda ended up on her shirt.

We returned home without incident.  Overall, an great day out.  Short, but much appreciated.  I'm hoping that once Mimi gets a bit better at communicating we'll be able to take some longer trips.  But until then, we're sticking to 3 hours or less!