If you have to run a race...

San Francisco is a great spot for runners. Even the prerace, slow run the day before the race was in a beautiful spot, right on the bay and within sight of Alcatraz and the Golden Gate bridge.

Bridget's race, except for starting in the dark, was a great one for the spectators. We had time to walk back to the hotel, pick up the car, drive through some gorgeous areas of San Francisco, and get in position for the finish without a problem.

For more photos of the race, check here, if you haven't already.

Her predictions were way off (what's with this 30-minute faster than predicted stuff?), but we still managed to be in position in time for an almost photo finish. That's Bridget off to the right, in a purple shirt, passing the woman in the yellow shirt.

Other highlights of the trip: Grace Cathedral, one of the spots on the way to the Museum of Modern Art.

Carved doors, and more stained glass than I have seen in a while, including John Glenn in his astronaut suit in one large window.

Good, if not great, restaurants everywhere, and weather that was fantastic, as long as we dressed in layers.

Dinner with Sara and Sergio at a Thai restaurant in Oakland. Many thanks to them for being willing to come up with a restaurant and spend the evening with us. Good to hear that Sara's 2nd graders are manageable!

Happy dogs everywhere.

These guys are in line for some grooming in a doggy day spa.

What would I not do again? The Kiefer exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art. Room after room of huge, dark paintings emphasizing man's inhumanity to man, the evil that abounds in the world, the dark clouds we all live under...This is one German artist who needs to cheeer up.

mini vacation

Well, maybe not exactly a vacation, but we got in a few hours of touring yesterday afternoon. Artists living on farms around 20 miles from us had a weekend of open shops—mostly sheep related, or expensive art for your garden (who wouldn't want a hand-carved bird bath for $600?). We were too late for a lot of the yarn shops, but we made it to the end of the tour and checked out the newest winery in Montgomery County.

If you look closely in the next shot you can see the 5-year old who was chosen to pull the lever to dump the grapes. Tempting to try and plead for letting an old woman try this, but it wasn't going to happen. Cabernet Franc, planted in 2004, no bigger than Burdick blueberries, and just as sweet.

Having toured a few winerys once with Bridget in California, I give this place high marks. We met one of the owners, a retired Irish judge, who could step right into any PBS miniseries. Our wine was served by women who must have learned from the hospital auxiliary code book how to run a tasting tent—sensible shoes, gray hair, and lots of cheerful bustling around. And we were back home before dark. For old folks, about the right pace.

Frank's last game

Thanks to good connections on the Metro, we made it to RFK just as Frank Robinson took over the microphone to make a "few" last remarks.

I think the owner and management must have decided they had better give Frank all the time he wanted, and he took it. We got a good list of all the things he does not regret—586 homeruns, not 600, no regrets—those kind of details. Completely appropriate and the crowd loved it.

Another 5 minutes for the "group hug" male sports teams are so good atand then the game started.

In the second inning, the Mets scored 6 runs. Way too many of their hitters were able to pick out the empty spot and drop a ball exactly out of reach. By the 8th inning, I think the plan was to just make sure that every available Nats player got some time on the field. I wasn't sharp enough to keep up with the changes.

And speaking of not being sharp, for the first and I hope the last time ever, I walked into a men's room thinking it was the women's room. The first thing that went through my mind was that it certainly was unusual to see a man in a women's room, but maybe he was taking care of his daughter. And then I made a note of just how many men there were in the women's room. Lots of them. Paying no attention to me, but lots of them.