Trip to the Hospital. 5-2-13

I’ve been up since about 3am. I have been trying to get sleepy enough to head back to bed, but I’m not having much luck. Boop was having a rough night, and after getting her settled, I wasn’t able to go back to sleep. No access to Internet for a few days, I might as well try to get caught up on blog posts.

I guess I never really told the story about San Francisco and how our trip ended. I did post some photos and give a few scant details but not the meaty bits. Okay, so Friday, I had a little break in the conference, and we headed down to Pier 39 to do a bit of sightseeing. Mom had forgotten her jacket; so we found one there. We watched the man doing his little vaudeville-esque routine in the center square of the pier, went to see the seals sunning themselves on the little dock, and could manage a view of Alcatraz on an atypically clear day. We looked and looked for something to eat. Mom and I have very different tastes; so it’s an ongoing negotiation of where to eat.

Beware, choppy waters ahead! (Alcatraz from Pier 39)

We settled on a little restaurant along the main drag that gave us a view but kept us out of the wind. I took Boop with me to the potty to wash our hands. They had brought the sourdough bread while we were there, and Mom had torn me off a piece and had started to tear up the baby’s. Nice of her to think of us, but… “Mom, did you wash your hands?” “Oh, I washed them before we left the hotel.” “But Mom, we’ve been all over the place since then.” Not another word. She continued eating. I stared at her for a few minutes. I waited. She looked up at me. She continued to eat. Finally, I asked that she go wash her hands.

Am I germ freak? Mom thinks I'm too health conscious. I’m not thinking so after what happened the next day <see title above>.