I don’t know that I should be allowed to live in Colorado. Here in the Wild West, many folks spend this summer prequel weekend in outdoor pursuits…hiking, biking, fishing, camping. Scaling fourteeners (which are very large rocks, not quite mountains).
I do none of it. Just not an outdoorsy girl, never have been. I absolutely appreciate the beauty and majesty of this state and enjoy a ride into the hills, ending with a cocktail, not sleeping on the ground. Went camping once. Once. Stock show? Nope. Skiing? Never been.
They’re so gonna kick me out.
A girlfriend suggested I take “ladies night” golf lessons at a club nearby. Doing so would provide a light sprinkling of skills so we could play together this summer. My initial thought, why on earth would I want to golf with all ladies? Second, I have no shoes. My footwear is mostly inappropriate to outdoor pursuits; I teeter just fine all summer in wedge sandals and the occasional flip flop; wore Steve Madden leopard ballet flats my last visit up to Red Rocks (in fairness, we’d gone primarily for Morrison Inn margaritas, the trek less planned). But I have Chucks, the staple, a classic short black and she said those would do. No collared polo shirts, however. Women should never, ever wear collared polo shirts.
This "gone fishin" weekend, got me thinking. What are my hobbies?
I like managing my household, tucking crisp and fruity smelling sheets into the bed. Lemony scrubbing. It’s work done in bits and pieces that offers instant gratification at the end of the afternoon.
I like kissing and loving, making out on the couch. Snogging and touching on all the bases like horny teenagers.
A tattered book store, coffee and several hours to browse. Heaven. Takes time to complete a book, though. I often have three or five going at once.
I shop for and prepare beautiful food, often slurped down with a belly-warming wine. A cloudy or rainy day calls for broth based soup with parmesan crisps or crunchy bread. Hot mornings make for luscious fruit salads, berries exploding when pressed against the roof of your mouth.
The gym is an obsession. Even in the midst of a thigh burning, spitting “how soon ‘til it’s over” spinning class, I feel revived, oxygenating every cell and muscle and organ. Yoga is a bendy pleasure and thrice weekly visits to the steam room a naked must.
A great movie at the theater, cool, dark and with images larger than life. Plus there’s popcorn dressed with golden topping and salt (and usually my only meal of the day). I love both an art house and the newer theaters with stadium seating and armrests that split and rise.
Best part of summer (besides the first bite of the perfect peach) are the outdoor music festivals and art walks, night and day. Can find one just about every weekend.
Don’t think me a too delicate a hothouse flower, shielding alabaster skin from the suns rays. I’m happy as steamed clams and a bucket of beers on the outdoor patio, under the umbrella and in the shade. I like a ball game, peanuts and hot dogs and no judgment of drinking in the middle of the afternoon.
I crave self-soothing grooming activities. Mani-pedi’s and long soapy soaks in the tub. Should you ever find yourself in my shower, choose from a smorgasbord of wonderfully nose-tingly scented gels and scrubs.
I do fantasize about a road trip cross-country in one of those old school Airstream trailers or an all-modern-amenities-RV-come-apartment on wheels. Camping with DVD’s and cocktails. And someone interesting to mack on.
The hobbies all come down to cocktails and kissing.