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San Diego.

February 21, 2010

(Written last night, on Saturday, February 20.)

We just made it to San Diego this evening.  This is my second time here–Andy and I visited for four days, almost a year ago.  It was probably the only vacation I’ve ever had in which I couldn’t wait to get back to Cincinnati.

For the sake of keeping the peace with my man and the residents of SD which I hope to one day embrace as my own (really hard, possibly in the neck area?), I will not say exactly why I dislike it here.  Yet.

Andy has been here a few times, really likes it, and wants to give it a shot for a month or two.  To be fair, we really didn’t see very much the last time we were here (story of my life).  And I can’t even blame the fact that he was working–we just hung around downtown (avocado for breakfast!) and went down to Tijuana; it was too cold (for us) to go to the beach.  I can’t swim, anyway.

So I’m trying to be supportive and give the place another chance.  I just need time to, um, adjust and find something about this place that I can enjoy. Walking around the crowded, uber-gentrified Gaslamp District this evening, though, made me want to take someone’s head and–

Woooosah.  I would like a chalkboard so I can write 100 times:

I like San Diego.

I like San Diego.

I like San Diego.

If you don’t have anything nice to say…stop writing.

More to come.


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