Saturday, in anticipation of Sunday's debauchery, we headed out of the city for some wholesome time with Scrambly in western Sonoma. [That is a lot of capital S's.] We took a tromp through a a supersecret redwoods grove near his house. Here are the boys, admiring a Really Big Tree:
To kill time while Scrambly got ready for work, we did a little driving and came upon an amazing bakery. We frenziedly pointed at things we wanted, and they fetched us loaves patiently. We got a fresh-out-of-the-oven cinnamon sticky bun, a loaf of garlic-jalapeno bread, and a loaf of something that is covered in seeds and spices and everything nices.
Then we went to Scrambly's restaurant, drank a fine rosé, and I ate my weight in oysters. The oysters they get are hand's down, no doubt about it, boy howdy the best oysters ever. I feel kind of bad eating something alive, but not bad enough to stop, or even to eat them in moderation. No sirree.