It’s hot. It’s so hot. It’s 70 degrees. It’s so hot.
“Come on, Brock.”
That’s what a trek up to Nob Hill sounds like. Well, at least for us. We’ll be honest with you for a minute (Just a minute, okay? Kidding! We only lie when someone asks us how many slices of pizza we’ve had. ‘Only one? Oh my goddddd, you must be so hungry, of course you can have the last slice!’ But, that’s besides the point…) we were sweating like crazy.
Ew. Gross, right? We sweat? Weird. Well, maybe not weird for someone who has a sweat fetish. Oh boy. We digress.
What with a busy Saturday planned for us, spent with Brock’s mom and sister getting soup dumplings at Dumpling Kitchen, we were basically running up the hill. Hello, fitness. All to just hang out for the morning in Nob Hill, snap some shots, grab some coffee, and rear up for the day ahead.
And let’s be real. We’re not trying to say we just ‘casually’ snapped these shots. Our morning was planned. Planned. Very planned. But, hey, there’s nothing wrong with that! We have the most fun running around the city (no really, literally running; if you see us out and about in San Francisco frantically running, say ‘hey!’), snapping shots as quickly as we can, enmeshed in the schedule of the rest of our days.
And let’s be real some more, we wanted to highlight how much we still love Brock’s destroyed jeans. That huge rip on the left knee? It definitely didn’t come like that.
Maybe we’re stuck in some 90s, early 2000s time warp, wearing our Teva’s in one post and our destroyed jeans in another. Well, we love it!