On Sunday afternoon, we had a SERIOUS power nap to recover from the triathlon. Taking crappy photos and keeping an eye on my watch was exhausting. Our friend texted N to see if we were coming to “City Fest” in Hillcrest (one of the neighborhoods in San Diego). Knowing nothing about it, we decided to have a stroll through. We had fond memories of our afternoon Pride celebration in the same neighborhood with the same friends about a month earlier, so we were optimistic. Armed with iced coffees to help us rebound from the nap, we headed into the droves of milling people. We did manage to meet up and exchange a quick hello with one of my grad school friends who drove down from L.A. for the weekend. For the next hour or so, we made idle chit chat while waiting for someone in our group to inspect a new-found treasure in one of the many, many vendor booths along the street. When you are out with ten women who have almost all been drinking since before noon (except us, see: nap), moving through an overly-stimulating crowd/farmers market/bazaar can be a bit of a challenge. So, we spent an hour or two browsing through trinkets as our group slooooowly migrated down the blocks, collecting new possessions along the way. A bright spot came when we were close enough to see and hear these handsome chaps in tights:
The not-so-bright-spot was N not recognizing any of their classic rock music, because she was busy watching Barney and Blues Clues when the hits came around the second time.