(This week is brought to you by: Dear God, this child will not nap. This is my attempt to wipe the slate clean before our next trip. You should expect little to no research, poor editing, and mostly incoherent sentences.)

What business does a 400-acre African wildlife preserve have in the wine soaked valleys of Sonoma? None. It has no business being there. Thankfully, that didn’t stop Peter Lang from building one of the weirdest pit stops on our trip to the north country.

Oh, and that’s also where we decided to celebrate Thanksgiving. If you’re going to spend Thanksgiving dinner away from your family, you have to do it right. Sure, there are plenty of places all along the northern California coast offering ocean sunset views and sophisticated takes on traditional Thanksgiving fare. But, you know, boring. Thanksgiving dinner amidst the giraffes, rhinos, and gazelles? It was a no brainer.  Get the itinerary…

You know I’ve been in San Francisco too long when I can no longer deal with 70 degree weather. DO WE LIVE IN PHOENIX NOW?

The fog needs to enter stage left pronto.

The koi pond and sculpture were actually kind of grimey and unspectacular in person, but I took a photo of it anyway. The camera brought out the contrast and glow, in a way that I wish I could take credit for.

(The sculpture is called Tragamon, and can be found at the Oakland Museum of California.)

A long, long time ago, Dave and I realized my 7-month-pregnant self would be in no shape to fly across the country for Thanksgiving. And so instead we decided to go on an epic road trip through the cell-phone-towerless, hours-to-the-closest-hospital reaches of Northern California. A brilliant plan. Who knew California had so much in common with west Texas?

For seven days, we travelled through African wildlife preserves, one-strip Victorian villages, and never-ending giant redwood groves.  We visited seaside towns emerging out of coastal bluffs, Ohio-size forests covered in Douglas Firs, and grungy ski towns with white peaks looming.

And the food, oh my dear Lord, the food. Northern California takes local a touch too literal, with Cypress Grove Chevre, the home of Humboldt Fog Cheese, right there in Arcata. Every restaurant, no matter how divey or refined, had Humboldt Fog on the menu. Rivers full of steelhead and salmon, with plenty of smoke shacks ready to serve you all sorts of takes on smoked fish. And the breweries! Just when you get past the wineries of Sonoma, you’re greeted with the breweries of Mendocino and Humboldt County. Speaking of Mendocino, the heirloom fruit stands! And so much freshly baked bread at every pit stop and restaurant that you will be thoroughly spoiled. By the end of our trip, we looked like squirrels hoarding away for the winter.

In the next few weeks, I’ll be posting all about our trip. These links will go live as I publish each post.

Excuse Me, Is that Your Ruff Tailed Lemur: A Night at Sonoma County’s African Wildlife Preserve

Avenue of the Giants: Magnificence of an Inhuman Scale

You Want Me To Do What With This Thing: Reel Fishing on the Klamath River and Marble Mountain Ranch

No No No, I Want to Live Here: The Towns We Visited

The Best Northern California Inns, Ranches, and Hotels: Where We Slept

Our Picks for Northern California Groceries and Restaurants

As some of you may remember, Dave and I changed the course of our lives for the better last year. We bought bicycles.

I used to think urban cycling was for those unconcerned with things like finding yourself under the tires of a two ton Highlander or having limbs severed by the 12-Folsom. Oh, and the hills. San Francisco seemed like the worst place to ride a bicycle.

Then MUNI let us down one to many times and we marched right on home, went on Craigslist, bought the first bicycles we could find, and fell in love THE END.

And it’s not just us! A third of San Franciscans ride a bike at least once a year, with about 75,000 of them commuting to work every day by bike. This number seems even a little low if you’ve ever walked along Valencia Street, Market Street, or The Wiggle during bicycle rush hour (oh, it’s a thing all right) or driven through Marin on the weekends. Bicycles, everywhere.

But where to go by bicycle in San Francisco? Other than the ol’ Blazing Saddles trip over the Golden Gate Bridge? I put together a handy dandy bike rental and trip guide, depending on what kind of cyclist you fancy yourself to be.

Check out: Bicycling San Francisco: What Type of Cyclist Are You?

As always, let me know of any awesome bike trips I missed in the comments.

These messages started popping in the Mission this past winter.

It was startling in its needy, unapologetic despair. I wish you missed me. Oooof. I think we can all imagine how that entire relationship went down, with the help of one small spray paint job.

And then they started proliferating. People started responding in kind. Under the orange lettering, someone wrote, “I DO!” I appreciated the saccharine, fix-it attitude of the response.

As part of an amusing neighborhood conversation, it started to feel slightly less cloying.

And then someone else went and crossed out the key part of the sentence.

It’s been like this for over a month now, and every day, my left brain has an apoplexy at the incomplete sentence. I WISH YOU WHAT??

I’m happy to report that it is possible for me to carry both Bean in her Ergo and my camera, at the same time. This bodes very well for this here site.

Now I just have to learn how to walk around without staring down at her nonstop to make sure she’s still breathing. (Oh, how I wish I was joking…)

If you live in a city and should ever happen to find yourself pregnant, be prepared for every conversation to eventually turn to So When Are You Moving to the Suburbs. You get bonus points if people frame it as a matter of your child’s safety, as the responsible thing to do.

Dave and I never even considered leaving San Francisco, or we did fleetingly, just to promise to each other that we wouldn’t leave.

And now that we’re a couple months in, I honestly no longer know how people manage to have a newborn in the suburbs. Really, just the take out and delivery options alone should make you want to flee to the city to have a newborn. No time to cook dinner? Here’s a warm dish of butternut squash ravioli from your favorite restaurant delivered to your door. With chocolate chip bread pudding for dessert even! And you can just order this stuff on GrubHub — you don’t even need subject anyone to your incoherent, sleep-deprived stupor.

And God bless baby carrier manufacturers. Running an errand is as easy as strapping Bean in and off we go. Since everything I need is 2-3 blocks away, I don’t even bother with a diaper bag. Wallet-keys-baby-CHECK.

So far, the logistics have been downright easy. Is that statement going to turn around and slap me in the face? Likely.

But, for now, we are happy and relieved that we stayed.

Here’s our annual list, somehow with even more Bay Area festivals than last year — 128 to be exact. There are the usual art and wine festivals, but this year I’ve also found a “rod & gun” picnic, hot air balloon rallies, and a car caravan tracing De Anza’s expedition into the Bay Area.

Happy festivaling.

(Looking for September-February festivals? Check out our Bay Area Festival guide for Fall/Winter 2012 & 2013.)

Get the itinerary…

Hello? Halo? Is this thing still on?

Hi there.

So, Dave and I had a baby! All true. A little human has taken up residence in our apartment and is demanding that we feed her, clothe her, bathe her, and entertain her whenever seems to be a good time for her. (I might call her “The General” behind her back.)

Like most new San Francisco residents, she’s shocked by how much rent costs but delighted by our city parks, cuisine, and climate. She’s already been out for sushi in SF and Mexican in Fruitvale. She prefers the de Young to the SF MOMA, but both pale in comparison to the trees and sounds of Golden Gate Park. We haven’t introduced her to Ocean Beach yet, but we’re prepared for her little mind to be BLOWN.

As for Far Out City, bear with me as I get this site back up and running. Running around the city and taking photos became less and less of an option as my pregnancy progressed and taking care of a newborn is…time consuming. But, I have a ton of things to tell you all about, including recommendations if you ever want to travel to (and survive) the State of Jefferson in northern California.

Hope you’ve all been well. Let’s do this.