I'm sad. I'm sad because a year ago I was in Long Beach. A year ago Stevie and I spent ten days with no responsibilities; adventure our only agenda, where the biggest decision we needed to make each day was where to eat. Sure the smog gave me a headache, the water was too freezing to even imagine touching, but it was blissfully relaxing. I mean, we went to Disneyland. What is better than Disneyland? Maybe Disney World. Or Taco Surf.
I dream about Taco Surf. I dream about eating fish tacos on the patio, a gentle breeze blowing away the smog. I wake up craving it at least once a week. It's pain and torture, and I just want a freaking taco. I also dream about the taco stand in Bellflower, with delicious meaty tacos and enough horchata to feel sick. mmmm.
I also dream about finding my next awesomely wonderful pair of boots at Buffalo Exchange. Or spending the day at the Getty only to get yelled at for standing where we're not supposed to. And going to It's a Grind everyday for tasty, fatty goodness. I even miss the smell of burning asphalt.
I'm nostalgic, and despite all the downfalls of Southern California, I miss it. The sun even shines brighter. Maybe I'd like to live there, maybe I wouldn't. But I do really, really want a taco. Chipotle just isn't the same.
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