What do you do when you spent your last birthday at Hogwarts, thus raising the bar to Hungarian Horntail heights?
The only thing you can.
Buy Hamilton tickets and get your sister to fly out to SF to join you in a long weekend of eating, hiking, eating, eating, drinking, eating, and a bday evening performance of America's favorite musical.
Did I mention the eating?
Apart from the bliss of finally seeing LMM's genius on stage, it was a full weekend focused mainly on stuffing ourselves with wine, dairy, and carbs. Is there anything better? I even kicked off the carb-loading festivities a little early, securing my bagel supply from Bagelsaurus in Boston (where someone suggested 3 bagels + a baker's dozen for home was maybe a tad too embarrassing to order. That someone was wrong and now I can have the good bagels whenever I want!)
Once back in SF with my stash secure in the freezer, we headed out. Claire earned her first Mission burrito among the scrum at La Taqueria, and we devoured champagne and a tater tot waffle thing at The Riddler for a pre-dinner snack.
On Saturday, she and I completed a 10 mile hike along the SF coast in some sort of vain attempt to even the scales, but any benefits were likely erased by the bookends of brunch and a burrata margherita pizza we demolished in approximately 5 minutes, or approximately 30 seconds for every mile we walked. It wasn't a pretty sight to behold, though maybe impressive, if the stares from the guy at the next table were any indication.
In between, there was an absolutely amazing birthday dinner at August (1) Five, where the fun, modern, Indian food blew us all away (hehe).
On Sunday, we rested (our feet).
We binged on pastries from b.patisserie before a trip to Salt and Straw for too much ice cream, and then I made a steak. I'm disgusting even myself as I write this.
Honestly I was a little relieved as I sent Claire to the airport stuffed full of ribeye, because if she stayed here, obviously neither of us will live to see 32.
