there are other ways [boulder, co]

We drove up to Boulder today.

Well wait, first we went to the Mile High Thrift store. The place was swarming with people. Busy bees moving from rack to rack, blocks of purple, green and white. Yellow pants and grey sweaters. It's senior's day which means seventy-five percent off for those who have seen a little bit more in life. It's busy and I'm tired, I think I was tired before I entered but it's hard to tell. I'm ready to get out of there. The smell might have something to do with it. The weird smell that is so particular to second hand stores. Hundred of phermones coming together, colliding into one pungent odor. Dirty feet, Aunt Edna's living room, the school gym. If there were a football locker room for grandmothers, that's what would describe the smell of a thrift store. Usually I'm all about it. I love me some thrifting. But not today. They didn't have a rain jacket so I'm done. We kept looking around just to pass some time. The book section is always great but I already brought way too many books on this trip. I think I packed twelve books-for three weeks. Who does that? Really? Me, apparently. So needless to say the cheap paperbacks didn't hold my interest either. I have everything I need. More than enough.

I felt that feeling of contentment, even in Boulder. Well, except for maybe the hammock store. I'd really like to invest in a portable hammock. The shop sold those woven ones from South America with the tiny, many colored strings all woven together. And let me tell you they are fantastic. But for the most part, I had no desire to shop. And that felt good. Boulder has a plethora of fantastic store fronts. G-rap times ten. Kitchen stores. Clothing stores. Outdoor stores. Restaurants and Cafes. And I had no desire to buy any of it. More interesting were the people. Walking down Pearl Street Mall [the "malls" in CO are outdoor, a strip of road for pedestrians only, which make malls a little more bearable] there are street musicians, dread locked wanderers, hippies, tourists. Extremely attractive men-they were honestly everywhere. I'm not sure what it is about Colorado...there must be something in the water.

I loved the little town though. Trendy, relaxed. A little town nestled into the base of the mountains. Full of life and laid back. Beards, Patagonia and reusable bags. I didn't want to carry my cup of iced tea around for fear I would look like an idiot for using a paper cup and plastic straw. [which is a little ridiculous actually, I didn't bring my water bottle with me, shame shame. NOT resourceful. Also ALWAYS look for meteres with time already on them. Rule # one.]


We walked through a kitchen store called Peppercorn. They had everything. Dishes. Jellies. Even a "stamp" of the Virgin to make your toast "holy".

"There is a small part of me who wants this life. The east G.R. life. Where I can throw parties and have fancy cupcakes."

"Throwing parties, that's the Rori in you," Rach says smiling.

"Yea, but the other part is shrinking."

Finishing my scentence, Rach says, "There are other ways to show love."

There are other ways to show love. There is much more to life than things. Sometimes it's tempting. But there is so much more. There is beauty and friendship. And oddly enough, the less I spend, the less I have, the more rich I feel.