I grew up a beach-town girl. Up and down the east coast I think I ate more sand than food growing up as a little girl. I have freckles and squint lines. I breathe salt air and fell asleep to the sounds of fog horns and clinking bouys.
That's why I think city life sucks.
And frankly, Jacob is a blooming idiot for giving up the beach to follow me out here but he contends that the beach without the girl is just...dull.
Last night on the way home from dinner we drove through downtown and there was a woman beating another woman up on the sidewalk. I pulled out my phone to call 911 and Jake actually pulls over and GETS OUT OF THE CAR. I'm telling him to please stay in the car, he just says lock the doors. Granted I don't worry about him, he's big, he's strong, and he can talk people out of anything. He got the women both calmed down and within minutes the police were there. So he stands around shooting the breeze with the police for 10 more minutes and I was just muttering under my breath about how much I hate this city.
We went on our merry way but not before being treated to a new round of street-person depravity on the edge of the legislature park further down. I won't even say what I saw. Gross.
Argh.
I was on a roll with a full judgemental, spoiled rotten verbal rumination of how much I hate city life and Jacob looked at me and asked me where else I could get 11 different kinds of take-out or all the Hello Kitty gear a girl could ever want anywhere else?
He's got a point. Though had I never sampled the amazing Vietnamese restaurant 12 blocks from my house I would have been good with the hotdogs and french fries at the canteen on the beach for the rest of my natural life.
And at least on the beach I don't have to watch people kick the shit out of each other.
