Now what could possibly create more division in my already divided life than a World Series match up between the Red Sox and the Rockies? Now mind you I am not much of a pro-sports team fan. Well actually I am but only when they are winning or going to the World Series or super bowl. Guess that’s akin to only going to church on Christmas and Easter.
Another whirl wind trip completed but this time I am struck by the dichotomy of my life, and it is an incredibly interesting life at that.
I never realized what a strong New England accent Pixie has. Pixie and I have run together for years now and funny I knew she had an accent but I never really heard the accent until I moved away. This trip east she could have knocked me over with her “theyai” (pronounced ‘there’ by those who live west of the Charles River.) But the word that really got to me and she used it often was cah, as in “watch out for the cah!” Or “you almost got hit by that cah.” At first I thought she was merely trying to cough up a fur ball, but when she repeated the warnings as we made our way along our 14 mile run I knew otherwise. Now all of a sudden my ears are tuned to this funny language only spoken by the select few die hard New Englanders. Unlike the New York accent of my youth, the New Englanders speak with the gentleness of a nor’easter fog.
This past Saturday I was the keynote speaker at the 23rd annual Regatta Ball in Boston for the MS Cure Fund. It was a beautiful black-tie affair at the Hyatt Hotel within shouting distance of Fenway Park and game 6 of the ALS playoffs.
I was once again donned in formal attire something I have not worn in quite a long time as this is not often worn by mountain mamas. As I was getting dressed I realized I was going to need to wear panty hose to complete the ensemble. Panty hose – something I have not put on since…..well since arriving in Boulder.
Now I am reminded of my new Boulder friend, Joyce. Being as so few are actually from Boulder I am not surprised that Joyce’s roots are heavily southern. She is a southern bell by birth, manner and genealogy but she is all Boulder through and through. When I told her about my upcoming gala she admonished me for even contemplating panty hose. “Those are a thing of your past! You’re wearing a formal, you don’t need panty hose. Besides you’re from Boulder now and Boulder people definitely don’t wear panty hose.”
As I was getting dressed I got to the panty hose and just couldn’t pull them on. I hemmed and hawed and delayed the inevitable. I fixed my hair, my make-up and finally slipped on my satin skirt and shoes and headed downstairs. I was going to do it, I was going to be totally Boulder and do the unthinkable….go commando!
So herein lies my life of crossroads, the Rockies versus the Red Sox, the “cah” and commando, east meets west and me, right in the middle. As I write this the opening pitch is moments away and perched on my head is a base ball cap with the familiar red “B”. Yeah, I may live and play in Boulder but I am a Boston girl at heart. And oh yes, at the last minute I grabbed those panty hose and put them on.