Let go of the oars *

I saw on a bulletin board the phrase “Let go of the Oars, everything you want is downstream….”

When I was 16 I immigrated to Canada from England.  15 years later I went back to visit England with my new Canadian husband in tow.  I always felt British in my blood, and that England was my home.  When I went back in my 30’s I had changed so much, I no longer fit into the British way of life.  Most Brits thought I was American.  I was shocked, I did not realise how much I had changed until I went back to visit.

I had a similar experience recently when I had a single friend visit me here in the Colorado mountains.  He was interested in the nightlife in the mountains.  I really have not been out in the bars late at night, as my fiance does not drink. I wondered if I was missing out on the live music and the dancing scene by staying home every night.

With my single friend visiting we went out on the town in Breckenridge.  We first went to a bar called Apres where they serve craft beers. It was fun, I had a dark beer from a Fort Collins Brewery.  We met people from Miami who grew up skiing in Breckenridge.  We met lots of young folks from Florida who grew up in the heat, hate the heat, and love the snow and mountains.   Then we went to the Gold Pan Saloon which was loud and we left. We Finally ended up in the back room of another bar called the Motherloade tavern.  We sat and watched attractive 30 somethings hooking up around us.  One couple had just met three days ago, she was from Denver and he was from Miami, they were on their third date and they were very cute. I kept encouraging my friend John to go and talk to women.    He went up to ask a woman to dance and she said no.  I mean really? it’s just a dance.  Everywhere people were doing shots of Fireball whiskey.  The band started at 9pm and people were dancing on the tables, with pint glasses smashing on the floor.  We were standing on the ramp to the back room, and within 15 minutes the place filled up.   We were  pressed up against two other rows of people on the ramp hanging onto our pint glasses.  People were screaming in your ear to talk to you.  One guy beside me got up and sang with the band and did the Rolling Stones song Ssympathy with the Devil.  He rocked the house.

The energy of the place was drunken hook up energy, or as they say here “hitting the mountain”.  I said to my friend John “if I was a cougar I would have easy pickings here” as everyone was in the 20s or 30s and pounding back shot after shot.  I realised that this was no longer a place that I fit in.  I missed my fiancée who was home in bed, and I could not relate to the drunken hookup artists around me.   I just wanted to go home.  I waited  until my friend was ready to go.   I was relieved to be home.  I realised I had emigrated from the country of singleton to the country of relationship, and I was not missing a thing.

*Image credit:  By Motmit – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0

Having a guest up in the mountains

My brother from another mother came down to visit me in Breckenridge.  After a sushi dinner I wanted him to see the town at night.  My fiance goes to bed about 9:30 and gave us his blessing to go out and party.  We went to one bar and had a half pint of local brew then ended up at the Motherlode Tavern for a full band Karaoke night.

We ended up standing on a ramp to the backroom listening to the band.  We had an eagle eye view of the room where we were able to watch all the people on vacation doing shots of fireball whiskey. It was hilarious as we watched them getting ready to stand on the tables and dance.

We surveyed the room together.  I suggested he ask this one woman to dance who looked fun and was grooving to the music. She had tight jeans on and a black and white spider top that had silver glitter across the chest.

Even though my brother from another mother is very shy he still asked her to dance. Much to my chagrin she said no. Wow, how hard is it to be a guy these days?  I felt sad for him and somewhat responsible as I suggested he dance with her.   As she walked by I asked her why she did not dance with my brother. She barked a drunken answer at me but then stood by him and rubbed up against him not talking.

Strange.

I struck up  a conversation with a guy named Paul who was very shy. He surprised everyone when he got up and sang a kick ass version of Sympathy for the Devil by the Rolling Stones. I must say, he had the place rocking. It turns out he used to be a professional singer  He said he lived in Massachusetts and was a retiring tool and die maker. He is now training to be a ski instructor and wants to retire here.  I said DO IT.  “I live here and don’t ski, you love skiing and live for it,  you should live here instead of me.”

What is wrong with me?  I live here and don’t ski?

Today I tried to cross-country ski and loved it. I did fall down twice but laughed and enjoyed myself.  I also love that my thighs burn in such a good way.

I tend to be a winter hermit. Perhaps I need to reform my ways, now that the weather is hitting 40 degrees during the day.  Maybe I could try venturing out.