It's very early this first Colorado morning. There is a guy outside the window above me, with a voice I recognize but cannot place, talking with obvious hopes that sleeping beauties behind garden apartment windows will hear the
all important complaints he was making about there being "too many fags in this town" and about some "fuckin fat guy" who offended him last night. His voice reminds me of a girl I used to be, and his attitude reminds me of how happy I am to be in love with life and with the variety within and all around it.
As his voice gets farther away, I slip back into now, and I feel safe and warm and wrapped in sister-goodness. I hear another voice outside my bedroom door. Is it my healer-sister reading? It can't be. No one can read for that long without even a pause to see if your listener is listening. It could be a book on CD. Jenny's into those right now. I bet she is out there listening to something sagacious and soothing. It sounds like peace.
The reading stops. The comforting murmur of the wise woman's voice is gone. I am searching for the motivation to get out of this scrumtuously (I know this is not really a word) warm bed so I can hold my sisters in my eyes and enjoy these moments of sisterhood while I am so so so blessed with them. Ok. That did it.
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Coffee and Breggos @ Amante
Jen: How do you pronounce it? Bray-go? I hope they're good.
Renee: If we don't like them, we can just slap each other with them.
This becomes our signature response with the possibility of not liking anything. Example: Should I buy this hat? Response: Sure, if you don't like it, you could just slap someone with it. And so on.
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Pearl Street Shopping - There is a man singing
Here Come the Sun with guitar and flute accompaniment. We meander along a car-less road, trees and shade and delicious smells, sweet acustic songs from your childhood heart, art and its artists everywhere you look, and people who have slowed their pace to align naturally with this environment.
Later we lunch at Conners Irish Pub. Mostly we drink Bloody Mary's with a full lunch inside them. I don't really remember the food, but those drinks and the service was all goodness and joy.
Near the end of our time at Conners, we asked our super-cute and charming young waiter to tell us what brought him out to Boulder, and he said, "I came out here to see you!" And we three middle-aged goddesses smiled and got all bloated in our usually over critical heads. Later, after a very generous tip and some sobering up, it dawns on us that he actually said, "I came out here to C.U." He did take a fine shot of us, all happy, basking in imaginary flattery:
