de Feet Hurt at de Young

The weekend before we came down with the plague, Mike's mom, Nana, and step-dad, Papa Troy, flew out to babysit Sarah while we went to Mike's company holiday party. They're awesome like that.

Unfortunately, their time here was a blur. I didn't manage to take any pictures of them and feel like I only saw them during rushed hand-offs of our tantrum prone football while hoping they'd manage a first down and keep the clock from running out.

The party this year was at the de Young Museum in San Francisco. It's a gorgeous building with lots of wonderful art of which I saw very little, because I haven't mastered the complicated skill of walking in high heels - proof that fashion was intended to keep women unenlightened and sitting safely in a corner.

As a parting gift, we were given a little red box with a chocolate masterpiece inside.



Once at home, this delicacy did not last long.



A little girl took great delight in devouring La Gioconda.



The few chunks that I managed to wrestle away from the kid were delicious. I wish I had been able to limp over to the table at the party to get a few extra boxes - see, fashion was also intended to keep women thin and unsatisfied.

You know, I bet Mona never wore high heels and ate chocolate at every whim, which would explain her smile. Next year, I'm going to get me some Mona Lisa shoes and beam.