Day Eight

Tomales Bay is a magical place. The drive is windy, the scenery is simple, but the oysters are phenomenal. Farmed fresh and sold by the bag, I have never had oysters quite as good. Hearing of this spot years ago from a friend, the boys and I decided to try it out Memorial Day Weekend 2011, and we have returned every May thereafter. On our first trip we had no idea what to expect. We brought modest picnic supplies and nothing in the way of oyster shucking tools or sauces. In the years that followed, we went about it in a very different way, at times bringing what felt like most of the refrigerator and spice cabinet. One year even involved a raucous party bus! I am grateful for my memories at Tomales Bay; for the music, the sunshine, the serenity, and of course, delicious oysters!

Day Seven

The 2015 Chinese New Year Parade was tonight, and while I will not go on record for saying that I am grateful for all of my experiences in Chinatown itself, the parade is seriously cool. This photo was taken a few years ago of some friends after the parade. Turns out it is kinda difficult to take pictures of the dragons (my favorites) when they are twisting and turning through the streets, chasing their ball of fire. Luckily some parade participants let us play with this one.

 Walking through Chinatown this afternoon brought back a lot of memories. While I love the colors and murals of Chinatown, the smells have at times been difficult to withstand. I only recognize about 15% of the produce being sold in the markets each day, and once I was personally assaulted by a live fish that was floundering about in his owners pink bag, desperate to escape. But I must say it has been interesting to observe a different culture. Second to China itself, San Francisco has the largest population of Chinese people in the world. I have without a doubt expanded my knowledge of several Asian cultures while living in SF, through friends I have made living here. I am grateful for their their stories, and for taking the time to introduce me to and inform me about their history. 

Day Six

I am grateful for unforgettable road trips cruising down US Highway 1. I remember the first time I drove out of the city and down to Pacifica in the jeep. I was alone when my jaw nearly hit the steering wheel at the sight of the ocean waves crashing into the cliffs along the coastline. I knew I lived in California, 3,000 miles away from home, but this was the first time it dawned on me that I lived right next to the Pacific Ocean. And the Pacific Ocean is way different than the Atlantic. From weekend trips to Carmel and Monterey, a five day photography expedition with Mom, or a chilly night camping beneath the starriest of nights, every road trip holds a special memory, and each adventure I would do over and over again.