One of my favorite things in life (right behind spending time with family and friends) is travel. I love almost any travel - in fact, I'm gearing up for a very exotic trip to Orlando next week. This past weekend Matt and I spent 4-days in San Diego for the Rock & Roll and I count that as travel. It was the most relaxing weekend away from home (despite the race) I've enjoyed in years. His family lives down there and it's always fantastic hanging out, eating Mexican, and sharing stories.
Today I experienced a brief moment of insanity thinking I could/should move down there. It came during a conversation about housing and rental costs - Kathleen mentioned a beautiful 3-bedroom, 2-story, yard and parking place by the beach that was running for $2,400. That hurts. But then I remembered the differences - San Diego always leaves me feeling a bit Ugly Bettyish as I do not have blond hair, a perfect rack, or polished nails and face.
San Francisco will always hold my heart in both a travel spot (hey, there are a lot of things to see here) and home. We have museums, the best food, beaches (they're freezing, but whatever), hills, and isms galore. I mean, how could I give up my favorite street dwellers? Mr. "The lady always walks on the inside" who sits on Polk gathering change (although I swear I think he has a house on top of Russian Hill) is only in San Francisco - in SD he'd probably be ranting about "the lady always wears the string bikini."
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