Joe Brewster and Michele Stephenson's doc American Promise is a story about outsized hopes fostered by the American educational system, and the equally outsized disappointments that await those who dare to believe in their own will to power.
On November 16, the adorable Heroine boutique for ladies, moms and babies celebrated a milestone event in Noe Valley with a cozy reception and generous discounts.
Guests found luxurious modern and vintage-inspired pieces in the Victorian boutique at 15% to 40% off while enjoying complimentary wine and sweets. Every month, Heroine donates a portion of their profits to a worthy charity—November's beneficiary is the Red Cross, supporting victims of Hurricane Sandy.
Kids aren’t the first thing that pop into your mind when planning a trip to Wine Country. But times are changing. More and more, parents don’t want to miss out on what’s growing right in their backyard, and the wineries, well, they’re listening. Parents with kids in tow can get a new taste of Wine Country and the whole family’s happy about it.
Some days you just want to pack up the kids and get out of the city. No planning, no organizing, just get up and go. Do it right and sneaking away for a day doesn’t have to mean getting stuck in the car for hours. You can leave the hustle and bustle behind, take a step back in time and a walk on a beach with a wild side in Pescadero.
My son was a colicky baby, wailing for hours and up before dawn. To comfort him—and escape our cramped apartment—we would take long walks. Fortifying coffee in hand and baby in pouch, I’d scale Folsom Street and then spiral up to Bernal Heights, where we could find nature without leaving San Francisco. Once I saw an owl gripping a branch, looking back at us with agate eyes. We kept up the ritual after the fussy baby turned into a happier toddler, and we would walk side by side. Max was just 2 when he surveyed the view and said, “Our city.” Some people argue that SF is no place to raise a kid, but I’ve always felt differently.
The typical Tahoe weekend plan goes like this: Scramble to get as much work done by noon on Friday as is humanly possible, then load up the car, cross the Bay Bridge, and pray you'll make it to Truckee in less than six hours. If there's snow, chains, or an accident anywhere along the route, settle in for the long haul. Spend Saturday skiing and drinking, wake up Sunday with an altitude-hangover headache, and reverse the trek on Sunday.
But what if you've got kids in tow—and not the kind of superhuman toddlers who can whiz down a blue slope in their baby skis at 30 mph, but regular, old-school carpet crawlers who just want some snow angels and sleds?
The result of sex in the city? Urban parenthood—an opinionated world often divided into two Type-A tribes: The uptowners ($750 strollers, night nurses, feeder preschools) and downtowners (doulas, slings, ironic onesies). Wherever you fall, though, we’ve got you covered.
What’s in a Name? A sampling from the roster of a liberal Mission District preschool: Atticus, Huxley, Calder, Arlo, Harper, Coyote, Alabama, Lola, Hero, Emilia
So a few nights ago, I stopped by Chesnut Street's latest offering: The Tipsy Pig. The new "pub" from the boys of Mamacita, Umami and Blue Barn. (Alert! This is not a Vintage 415 project. It's the baby of restaurateurs Stryker Scales , Nate Valentine and chef Sam Josi of Sustainable Restaurants.) The scene, as you might imagine, was a mob of 20 to 30-somethings very happy with their beer, not paying too much attention to the antique books in the faux "library," and having no issue with yelling at each other over the din. I couldn't hear but I'm pretty sure they were all saying: "Yay! Our new favorite hangout!!"