Last night on the Mass Pike-I fell in love with you.

As Susie and I crossed the street to grab a cab, we looked up and the sky was full for soap bubbles. Across Boylston the fountain was brimming over with soap suds. Everyone was laughing and playing like they were six and were just given the world's biggest bubble bath.

It turned out to be one of those reassuring moments that made me realize that I'm a Boston gal.

With so many friends moving out of town (and even myself giving it the occasional thought) it's nice to be reminded that I love it here. I love the neighborhoods, the ass-hole drivers, the B line with it's stops every two minutes, Cambridge, Somerville, Charlestown. Give me a slice of Regina's pizza over another cities any day. There is nothing better than being a die hard Red Sox fan simply because your city expects it. I watch maybe five games a season but you're a loser in my book if you don't think they are awesome (until they switch to another team and then we hate them). I love our streets that have no logical system until you know them and then it's perfectly obvious how to get around. Chairs holding parking spots. For such a gruff outer exterior we love our Gays. And our Kennedys. Our Mayor is an idiot who has chewed his own tongue and you can't understand a damn word he says. We scandalize everything - well the Herald scandalizes everything. We know all the words to Sweet Caroline. We dig big. We curse, we sear, we drop our R's. Eff you New York, you may have a big apple but we have a bigger heart.

Sure, some days I play the scenario of moving to Seattle/Chicago/LA. Getting a studio apartment and starting a new life. Then it's the funny simple things, like bubbles in a fountain bringing mass-holes together that make me realize I'm happy here.