This is how you know I wasn't born in San Diego: I love LA.
Every time I admit this to a true San Diegan, their response is usually a variation of "Ugh, why???" Which I totally understand because after growing up outside of Manhattan and having lived there for two years, I have the same response when people tell me they heart New York City.
But I really can't help it: I love Los Angeles. I fell in love with that city the moment I got off the plane at LAX. And while I know now that I would never want to live there, it does make for a pretty nice weekend getaway. Which is why for the past two years I've planned at least one weekend per year up there when I tackle a new bunch of items on my LA Bucket List.
This year I thought I'd sit down and actually write that list so that it no longer exists solely in my head. Partly to have a fun way to keep track of my adventures as I complete them and partly to get suggestions from Angelenos on what I'm missing.
Though I don't think I missed much. After all, I did manage to come up with 100 things to check off my list...
I think one thing is clear now: San Diego cares a lot more than we get credit for.
The long-standing stereotype about San Diegans is that we're all a bunch of aloof, apathetic, carefree beach bums. We flake out on commitments or show up "whenever." Our offices are a place for flip flops and dogs, not suits and high heels. Our sports teams are terrible because we aren't good fans, we don't get argumentative unless it's about coffee, craft beer, brunch or tacos, and we aren't very engaged politically.
That's the rumor anyway. The turnout at the San Diego Women's March on Saturday told a different story.
Sunday mornings are a great excuse to lay in bed and scroll through Instagram for hours longer than you normally would. But it's even better if it's it the second Sunday of the month... because then you can stalk all the hauls from the Rose Bowl Flea Market.
I am obsessed with the amazing stuff that people find at this flea market and I have been for years. The envy is real and if I had a bigger house and millions of dollars I would go every month. Hands down, that's not even a question. Which is why I kind of avoided it for a long time... the temptation is just too much.
After all, the Rose Bowl Flea Market is actually the greatest flea market on Earth.
If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.
Every year I make a goal of reading/listening to 50 Books in the upcoming year. And every year I come up short by oh, I don't know? About 40 books or so?
I managed to get to 11 in both 2013 and 2014. I hit a record high of 16 last year (though I never wrote about my last 3 books of 2015: Dear Mr. You by Mary Louise Parker, Why Not Me? by Mindy Kaling, and Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear by Elizabeth Gilbert). But this year?
This year I only managed to squeeze in 10 books. Which actually is kind of impressive considering how little free time I had between my new job and finishing my MBA. It was fairly non-fiction heavy, with only two (fantastic) novels making it into the mix, but ultimately it ended up being a pretty solid list.
This post has had some harsher titles in drafts. Let's just say F bombs were involved.
I usually love writing these recaps each year, but this one was hard. 2016 started out mildly shitty and ended really shitty. And it was shitty for a lot of what happened in the middle too.