32 flavors and then some

I am 32 years old today, and I've spent most of the morning reminiscing on Anika's birthday - which was, obviously, an actual BIRTH day - and finding it hard to imagine life before her.  I've historically put more clout in birthdays than is probably warranted.  Yet when I look over at Anika, sighing lightly in her sleep, I wonder how birthdays could be anything but magical.

Of course, today I'll be doing laundry, playing games with the increasingly curious Miss Anika, and in all likelihood baking my own birthday cake (that is, if I ever get around to that).

We went to Boulder this weekend, mostly because we'd heard it was a cool college town with lots of fun shops and eateries.  We were also warned about the hippies.  And boy, were those warnings right on the money.  There were WASP (well, they've likely dropped the P by now) dread-heads, a street xylophone-banging duo, a unicyclist, a woman with two different boots on, and a man performing a mime act for no one in particular.  Then there was the Santa figure playing a really, really bad trumpet solo, and the man and his wife trying to fit their figures into the two-seater at the Tesla dealership.  His Wranglers had a ring of wear from a tin of chewing tobacco, and he identified the bug that was on his arm as he brushed it off.

Then there were the college students, who seemed to be confused with the sunny, breezy, mid-50s weather, and decided to dress schizophrenically as a compromise.  There were sundress-clad girls stomping around in sheepskin boots past people donning parkas and flip flops.

But boy, are people nice here!  There must be some inversely proportional relationship between fashion and friendliness.  Anyway, as I was feeling rather amiable myself, I didn't take any photos of the distinctly Boulder-esque people we witnessed.  But we did manage to snap a few of ourselves.  Here's Armando, enjoying the sun and humoring my need to document our Boulder adventure:

Miss Anika enjoyed the fresh air (and it's clear in this picture that she is outgrowing most of her clothes - thank goodness the rest of our stuff arrives this Thursday):

Boulder's pedestrian Pearl Street brings to mind Madison's State Street, except with mountains as a backdrop rather than the Capitol dome:

Boulder, we'll be back.  It won't be to purchase any incense or throw a few dollar bills at that guy on the corner with the didgeridoo, but we'll be back nonetheless.