Hey Suburbia, Hey Suburbia, Hey Suburbia . . .

I'm in love with you.

Yesterday was a lovely day.  After getting all pumped and sweaty and, gah! pumped! woo! at the gym, I realized that my bathing suits are about eleventy-million years old and that I'm due at the beach in t minus three days.  (t for Tahoe.)  So I washed and dressed and primped and posed and betook myself and my beater car to Colma for some wandering 'round Target.  The sun was shining, the air was warm, my windows were down, and Thin Lizzy was blasting on The Band.  I drove too fast, reveled in the wind, and sang about the boys and their recent reappearance in town at the top of my voice.

Because someone is a GENIUS, my Target now has a Starbucks planted inside like a little fetus throbbing with caffeine.  You pat your belly and are filled with a sense of well-being, overwhelmed with an outpouring of love, and then you order a ventinormous cup of iced black tea.  God's in his heaven, all's right with the world.  I have a cold drink the size of a toddler, a sound and sturdy cart, and bright fluorescent lights to sail her by.

Because a mermaid winked at me and it was just that kind of day, I got to sail lazily past the cleaning supplies and hardware and multi-sized tubs for organizing one's home.  My gaze swept over the home decor, the camping supplies -- Bright splotches on the horizon all.  My destination lay farther on:  Cheap, brightly colored clothing.  Perfect for summertime.  I loaded my cart and headed with my treasures to a tiny mirrored room.  Clang.  Hammer.  Bang.  Crash.  Squeak.  Crank.  Pop.  Success!

No bathing suit, sadly, but a jumper with stars like a flag, a practical cardigan, and some too-big-super-comfy-perfect-for-the-beach navy shorts with a tie.  I later added a hairbrush with dual! bristles! and disgustingly-delicious lime-melon gum.

Next, I popped over to the mall at Stonestown, and a similar voyage into Forever 21 yielded some additional booty:  a geometric-patterned dress, a soft blue jersey dress, and a three-dolla bra tube thing.  Oh! and a pretty tee shirt with day lilies on it that has to be worn with an under-thing to avoid revealing side-boob through the big sleeves.  Praise the lord on high for bandeaus.

The fog rolled in soon after that, and I made my way back to the land of narrower, dirtier streets.  Home -- and happy -- but dreaming of bright, distant lands.