Signed, Sealed, Delivered, I'm Yours

Damn you, Boulder. Why is it that every time I make an actual plan to move and leave you behind, you wager with a cloudless, 70-degree day in the middle of Fall and taunt me with snow-covered mountains just within view?

I've been crazy about Colorado since visiting Boulder for the first time nine years ago. I mean, come on, after a half-dozen road trips to a handful of journalism school east of the Mississippi, I'm not sure if it was the fear of spending another eight hours in the backseat of the car with my sister or the Rocky Mountains that convinced me first. All I know is that if I had to choose where to spend my four years of college all over again, this would still be the place.

Back when I graduated high school (yawn), the University of Colorado was still a fairly balanced combination of "granola" culture, academic credibility, and airport proximity to appease most parents (generous enough to pay $30,000 a year). The four-state distance from my home town appealed to my budding independence, the liberal climate to my sense of rebellion, and the mountains to an artist's taste for aesthetics. I think I summed it up for my parents something like, "I just like the people."

My first winter in Summit County was a mind-eraser. After that, I couldn't remember what I ever used to do with the snow in Indiana. And from what I remember of growing up in Chicago, winter was nothing but wind and The Walnut Room.

Wow. Just thinking that I actually won't be living here past December stirs up a good wave of emotions in my stomach. Back to wind and pointless snow. Damn you, Colorado, for making me want to stay. ...For nurturing me and pushing me out of the nest, for having more sunny days than anywhere I'll move, and for the loads of sexy, athletic men more muscular than anyone should grow acostomed to.

In fact, this whole love letter to Boulder mentality was triggered by someone I met unexpectedly this weekend, yoga instructor, Richii Jai. (God bless male yoga instructors who inspire me to write, let alone contort my body for an hour and a half in a sweaty room.) I stumbled into Richii's class Saturday morning at the same studio that I go to every day, so I was surprised that we had never met. He is this tall, sinuey guy with tattoos up and down both arms, a shaved head (minus a grown-out mohawk rat tail or something...?) and this great spastic, hyper energy that I;m attracted to in just about anyone. Let me put it to you like this:

Think of how your mom is capable of making a meal so delicious, so favorite, the night before you leave for college that, even though its the same meal you've had a million times before, something about the way it smells, the way it tastes, makes you want to just throw in the towel, forget any plan to get on a plane the next day, and stay forever.

True. But lately it's felt like all my "moving" pieces have fallen into place, so I felt immune to all the local home cooking, so to speak. Nevertheless, Boulder cooked up one last meal that took my breath away this weekend --proving that it can still give me what I need when I least expect it. It happened during Saturday's yoga class --where Richii's incredible sense of humor, lightheartedness, wit, and spontaneity left me with hands-down the best mood I've had in months.

AND THAT'S WHAT BOULDER DOES TO YOU when you make a plan to move away. It gently, subtly reminds you what you'll be missing, such as the fact that no where will the skiing be as sunny nor the guys as "mountain men" gorgeous (as Mari would say).

Just when I thought something that I love as much as yoga couldn't get any better, I meet a great teacher who takes the practice not to the next, serious-spiritual level, but in a completely new direction (such as a crack-you-up, techno-blasting, quit-taking-this-shit-so-seriously direction) that makes it feel more comfortable, less-phony than ever before. So, there it is, and herein lies the lesson, I suppose: That when Boulder leaves you wanting more, it's time to take things in a completely new direction. Literally.

"I've got a friend in Aromatherapy. She tells her problems to a scented candle."

I went to a hillarious, pink-themed charity event last night called “Girls Night Out” to benefit Girls Incorporated of Metro Denver. The event began with a cocktail hour that I would know nothing about due to the traffic jam I was stuck in for an hour trying to get downtown. Luckily, there's no two-drink minimum to appreciate comedian Rita Rudner.

Voted the “Best Comedian in Las Vegas” by the Las Vegas Review-Journal for the last five years, and has had several comedy specials on HBO, including “Rita Rudner’s One Night Stand.” She came out dressed in a floor-length blue gown, diamond bracelets, and glossy red lipstick, but was quick to admit that she's really just a flat-chested, gray-haired, 5'1" Asian man beneath the makeup. She greeted the room of a thousand plus women with a smirk and a curtsy, then introduced herself to one of the only men in the room at the front table.

From cosmetic surgery to shoes, Rita gave poor Matt a front-row spanking by explaining why women wear 5" heels, and how until the day a woman dies, she'll never give up trying to create an optical illusion of how she looks. “You see, Matt,” she said, “even a 700-lbs. woman would look slender in 64" heels.” With wine-stained lips, the women in the crowd roared with laughter.

Later that evening, front-row Matt learned to appreciate shopping as a form of indoor hunting for woman, and Rita made a vow in honor of the struggling economy. With military pride, she proclaimed, "I am no longer just shopping for myself. I am shopping for my country."

Since nothing gets high society woman writing checks quite like wine and botox jokes, I can imagine the event was a great success. But really... For more than 25 years, Girls Inc. has inspired girls in and around the west Colfax neighborhood to be Strong, Smart and Bold. Five years ago, Girls, Inc. built a new gymnasium, dance studio, and classroom-style facility to provide the neighborhood girls with a place to meet every day after school. The purpose of Girls, Inc. programming is to enable underprivileged elementary through high school students to achieve their full potential by conquering social, legal and cultural barriers.

Though I was a little disappointed my $20 raffle ticket didn’t pay off in the form of the $6,000 Tiffany’s bracelet prize, Rita’s dry, classy humor, and the opportunity to support this incredible organization made the traffic jam worthwhile.