denver: a love story

We left Lincoln early this morning and set out on our drive across Nebraska. Nebraska is flat

but we appreciate their 75 MPH speed limit.


My uncle Donn was just telling Steve about driving through Nebraska and seeing a ton of sandhill cranes, and today we drove past hundreds and hundreds of sandhill cranes on their migration route. This is me sticking my head out the window trying to grab pictures of them as we sped down the highway:



We finally crossed into Colorado


and just outside of Denver we caught our first glimpse of the mountains.


Let me say this about Denver: I love Denver. Steve and I first came here last year, en route to Boulder, thinking Boulder might be a place we'd like to live. But a funny thing happened on the way to Boulder--we liked Denver a lot more.


Steve was kind enough to make a detour to a local running store so that I could purchase a running shirt I wanted to buy on our last trip:


Then we headed to over to My Brother's Bar for dinner, rumored to be Denver's oldest bar and famous for their burgers. (oh and Kerouac and Cassady used to drink here.) We snagged a a table and the first thing we noticed were the Girl Scout cookies stacked everywhere; apparently they buy up a ton and sell them as long as they last. We ordered their famous Johnny Burger: cheddar, Swiss, homemade jalapeno cream cheese, and grilled onions.


You have to order lettuce and tomatoes as extras, and the whole thing is delivered to the table on a box of condiments.


Strange, but it all worked. I'm hungry just thinking about it. I want to go back. Now.

Denver, I love you.