So, I thought for Friday, we should take the day off and tour San Francisco. My mother loves bridges and so for her just driving on the Bay Bridge and observing the Golden Gate Bridge from a distance was enough. The smell of the ocean and the sunny weather of California reminded her of home. We walked through memory lane and reminisced our past experiences. Tasting Ghirardelli's ice cream added to the enjoyment of the day.
After parking, we strolled along Pier 39 window shopping and occasionally buying souvenirs. My mom is an ardent fan of movies, and when she saw a clear and gorgeous view of the Alcatraz she started telling me all about the movies she had watched about Alcatraz. To tell the truth I had never met anyone who was so enthusiastic about a jail. It was really funny, especially when later on she told my brother on Skype about Alcatraz, and he jokingly said to me that when we get to go inside maybe I'll forget mom by mistake. And since she likes it so much she wouldn't mind spending a night over there. We said 'good-bye' to Alcatraz, said 'hello' to the sea lions, and then headed off toward Fisherman's Wharf.
At Fisherman's Wharf, we stopped at the Musee Mechanique, checked out the submarine, smelled the crabs cooking, and looked for a place to eat.
The ocean was calling us, so we sat down by the shore and had some lunch. Charlton really enjoyed eating fries and chasing birds. James kept asking us when we were going to Ghirardelli's. While seating by the beach, mom got jealous when she saw a few people swimming in the ocean. One lady was also sun bathing in the park. Mom decided she would bring her swim suit with her next time. I told her she would have to do the sun bathing on her own.
While enjoying some really tasty ice cream, and a lot of it, we realized we were cutting it close with the older children's time for pick up. As I was trying to call friends to pick them up so they wouldn't be waiting there for us, I missed my street and kept going in the wrong direction. How is it that when I have the least time I always get lost. I was so upset for missing the correct street that as I was fuming at myself I missed another turn. This was getting ridiculous. I realized that I should forget about being upset and concentrate on the task at hand.
Everything worked out in the end. However, experiences like this, and I have a lot of them, make me think. How come some people are always on time and others no matter how hard they try they seem to not be able to? What makes people like me think that we can conquer the world in three hours? What is in our DNA or nurtured personalities that make some of us have no sense of time?
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