Strawberry Margaritas are overrated

I brought home a bunch of Cal Giant berries this weekend. Michael and I had our own little strawberry margarita private party. Meh. I like my margaritas all plain and clinky with ice, not like some damn thick Jamba Juice creation.

So we gave up on that and cracked open some wine instead.

We should have just covered those puppies in chocolate like they were intended.

All of this was our reward for climbing up to Loma Prieta. I have lived in the shadow of this 3,790 foot peak (It grew 4 feet after the Loma Prieta quake) for over two years now, and Sunday was my first time up to it.

I loved it. The whole damn ride. Even the 8 mile stretch of bumpy rutty dirt road. Or maybe because of that. Summit Road in that section is desolate and dry, and almost otherwordly. We rode the spine of the mountain while our little road tires yelped and pleaded to make it stop. But I couldn't hear them because I was too immersed in the views and the new adventure of it.


Nothing like heading out on a road or trail you've never been on and checking it out. Not knowing how long till this or that, or when or how it will all resolve itself and get you home.

(pics are stolen and not mine but if I took any, they would look like these)