Today marks three months that I’ve been living in Boulder proper, in my Little House, and so far, life in The Bubble has been pretty damn great. Yes, friends, that’s right. I said I like living in Boulder. My Colorado friends will not believe those words were typed by me. For years and years while living in Denver, I was firmly in the contingent of people who routinely mocked Boulder and not for a moment would have entertained the idea of living here. Even when I moved to what was technically Boulder, but not exactly, dealing with people who were weird enough to live in town was unthinkable.
But now, here I am. There was no question when I left the mountains that I would live right in town. My job is here, my friends are here, I hate commuting. But I didn’t expect to be so comfortable here right away. What do I love about it?
45 percent of the places I go, including two friends’ houses, are walking distance from my home. 45 percent of the other places, including great hiking trails, are just a five to ten minute drive away and there’s always ample, free parking. I fuel up the car only once every four weeks or so.
There’s water. This seems like a small thing but I grew up on the east coast and am accustomed to being around creeks, ponds, lakes, Great Lakes, and Niagara Falls. I’ve always missed the water out here. Boulder is filled with creeks and flood mitigation ditches, and Trotsky Bear and I pass over several of them on our daily walks. The sound of running water pleases me.
The pedestrian crosswalks, which I hate as a driver because there’s no built-in time delay for how frequently they can be set off, I now avail myself of constantly. With an almost non-existent commute, I have plenty of time to explore the neighborhoods with Trotsky Bear, and I’m slipping more and more into a city-dweller (anti-car) mindset again. It’s nice to have the right-of-way to cross where I want to.
He watches me and Trotsky as we go by, shuffling his little feet along the railing to follow us as we move. He never barks, only watches. I want to dognap him.
Everyone from the stoned college students to the old folks at the retirement home to the homeless people has a smile and a nice word for my little floofarilla.
Last Friday after work, I stopped by the grocery store to pick up some supplies for a get-together I was hosting. I pulled into the crowded parking lot, put up my driver’s side window, grabbed my phone (which is in a wallet case), and spent about 30 minutes picking out my supplies. I came back out to my car, threw the bags in the back, opened my door, slid behind the wheel, and then my jaw hit the floor. The passenger window was wide open and my purse was sitting on the front seat, in plain view and easy reach of one and all. My work laptop was also on the backseat. How could they not have been stolen? Only in Boulder. Seriously.
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So, I like it here. I can admit when I’m wrong. I did an entire 26 day blog challenge writing about things I’ve been wrong about in life, including Denver! That’s part of the joy of being human: growing, changing, and then having new experiences…yikes, I’m going to end this post here before I start sound too, well, too Boulder.