I am one well-fed girl. I'm not kidding; there is a distinct possibility I may have packed on a few extra pounds over the weekend, thanks to the overabundance of amazing food at my fingertips (and lips.) That is the blessing and the curse of only being back in Denver for a long weekend. If I were there full-time, I'd have been much better at practicing moderation, but with only five days to cram in my favorite places, there was no time for prudence, of any sort. So this weekend became all about the food and drinks, and I dove right in. It started as soon as I hitched a ride from DIA, ceasing to end until my flight departed on Sunday evening. And despite feeling more than a little gross about myself right now, I am one (fat) happy girl. Belly rolls be damned, that was some good food. Thank heavens I'm active, because I ate enough to feed several grown adults over the course of my visit. But, believe me, it was all worth every extra crunch and extra mile I'm going to have to put in to make up for all of those extra calories.
All moaning and groaning aside, here's a synopsis of my dining escapades:
Pinche Taqueria - 1514 York Street -
Recognized as one of Denver's Top 25 Restaurants by 5280, and one of the 50 best new restaurants in the US by Bon Appetite, this small eatery completely won me over. So much so, I ended up eating there three times over the weekend; twice for happy hour and once for brunch. Yes - Their street tacos were that freakin' good.
Solera - 5410 East Colfax - This cozy eatery continues to be one of my favorite neighborhood joints. The ever-changing Mediterranean-influenced menu never disappoints. This visit, we stuck with a bottle of the house red and a big bowl of mussels nestled in a delicate tomato broth, the perfect remedy for a chilly, November night.
Parallel Seventeen - 1600 East 17th Avenue Parkway - I don't even like lychees as a fruit, but I'm obsessed with P17's lychee martini. Too bad it's not on their latest menu. Lucky for me, I was able to score the last one in the house that night. I imagine I won't be so lucky next time. The duck pot-stickers may just make up for that loss, though. I'm pretty sure they're my new Asian-fusion obsession.
Thin Man Tavern - 2015 East 17th Avenue Parkway - No visit to the Mile High City is complete without drinks at Thin Man. With its hipster crowd and low-key vibe, this Uptown bar is quintessential Denver. I've been bellying up to their bar since my early twenties and imbibing their infused-vodka martinis way before infused vodkas were the rage. I always give the bartenders creative license with my drinks, and have never been disappointed. This weekend's mixed berry vodka press was no exception - simple, effervescent, and perfectly un-sweet. Yum.
The Berkshire - 7352 East 29th Avenue - Every once in a while, Mouse totally surprises me and introduces me to a spot that is exactly my style. The Berkshire is just that place. Truth be told, he was drawn to this eatery for its unabashed love of swine, but I was taken in by their brunch menu. Any Sunday that begins with bottomless mimosas and lobster eggs Benedict is an excellent Sunday in my book. Delicious!
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Friday, November 9, 2012
All That is Good
Ahhh... Being home is like breathing a long sigh of relief. I'm finally back in my own place, utterly at ease in my own space. I can sink into my own couch. Snuggle in my own bed. Chop with my own knives. Cook with my own stove. (Oh - and spend some much-needed face time with my own husband.) Silly, I know, but it's the little things that make me feel at home.
As nice as it is to be back, this long weekend is almost a conundrum. It's reminding me of how much I love Denver, and of everything I'm missing by being gone. It's five days of bittersweet, knowing I'll be back to SoCal, and my cot in a cramped apartment, before I know it.
I refuse to focus on the melancholy for now, though, rather choosing to savor all that is good. It's a weekend filled with good friends, good food, and good wine. We're hitting up some of my favorite restaurants, new and old. We're taking a day trip up to the hippie Mecca of The Republic of Boulder. (What could be more Colorado?) We're getting in a good hike to tire out the puppy and take in the autumn hues. And during our down time, I'll stretch my legs and enjoy the spaciousness of our house.
So instead of wasting any time being sad, I'm going to use this weekend as a reminder of the life I'm working so diligently for. It won't be long before this travel stint is over and my cot-sleeping days are nothing but a comical memory. And when my life returns to status quo, I'll appreciate it all that much more.
As nice as it is to be back, this long weekend is almost a conundrum. It's reminding me of how much I love Denver, and of everything I'm missing by being gone. It's five days of bittersweet, knowing I'll be back to SoCal, and my cot in a cramped apartment, before I know it.
I refuse to focus on the melancholy for now, though, rather choosing to savor all that is good. It's a weekend filled with good friends, good food, and good wine. We're hitting up some of my favorite restaurants, new and old. We're taking a day trip up to the hippie Mecca of The Republic of Boulder. (What could be more Colorado?) We're getting in a good hike to tire out the puppy and take in the autumn hues. And during our down time, I'll stretch my legs and enjoy the spaciousness of our house.
So instead of wasting any time being sad, I'm going to use this weekend as a reminder of the life I'm working so diligently for. It won't be long before this travel stint is over and my cot-sleeping days are nothing but a comical memory. And when my life returns to status quo, I'll appreciate it all that much more.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Broken Record
Here I am again, counting down the hours until my shift ends and I can catch a flight to see my man. It's tortuous. The hours seem to drag by, as if in complete defiance of my selfish desire to rush the evening along. I want nothing more than for this night to be over, the clock to strike seven, and my relief to arrive. It doesn't help that I'm mentally and physically exhausted, navigating this shift in a zombie-like state of utter indifference. It's been the same patients, with the same issues, and same medications for seven shifts in a row. It's the dreaded ICU treadmill, and, in truth, I'm just over it. All exhaustion aside, I'm ready to be home, to relax on MY couch, and fall into the arms of my long-distance husband.
After Australia, I thought I would be done with this nonsense. I really didn't foresee myself revisiting this scenario ever again, especially after returning to Denver. But life and the lure of travel-nursing happen, interfering with my love life, and forcing me into old habits. I remember counting down the hours, just like this, so many times during my stint Down-Under, and now I just feel like a broken record.
This is the life I continue to choose for myself, though, so I must take the bad along with the good. Every adventure has its price. I may miss my Mouse, and spend many nights pining for him, but I am also reaping the benefits of this latest assignment. (I must repeat this mantra over and over.)
Soon, the sun will peak over the horizon, and this dreaded shift will come to a close. I'll board the plane and wake to find myself descending into the Rockies. And then the real fun begins...
After Australia, I thought I would be done with this nonsense. I really didn't foresee myself revisiting this scenario ever again, especially after returning to Denver. But life and the lure of travel-nursing happen, interfering with my love life, and forcing me into old habits. I remember counting down the hours, just like this, so many times during my stint Down-Under, and now I just feel like a broken record.
This is the life I continue to choose for myself, though, so I must take the bad along with the good. Every adventure has its price. I may miss my Mouse, and spend many nights pining for him, but I am also reaping the benefits of this latest assignment. (I must repeat this mantra over and over.)
Soon, the sun will peak over the horizon, and this dreaded shift will come to a close. I'll board the plane and wake to find myself descending into the Rockies. And then the real fun begins...
Friday, November 2, 2012
Shattered
"He passed away. I'm shattered."
That was the text I received from a friend the other morning. My stomach dropped and eyes welled just seeing the words. The he was her husband. Her world had just been turned upside down, smashed to pieces. Her pain resonated in each and every word. He had been in a motorcycle accident the night before; hit by an oncoming car right before her eyes. She was following a mere car-length behind. The medical team did their best, but it didn't matter. Even though they worked tirelessly for hours, his injuries were just too massive. He slipped away in the wee hours of the morning. He was only twenty-eight.
I've cried for days for her. The tears won't stop. The strange thing is, we aren't even that close. I've never even met him. Still, I was the one she called after they rolled him into the OR. I suppose it's because I'm the only nurse she knows. She needed to hear a voice of reason; someone to help her make sense of all the medical-speak. I'm OK with that. I'm just glad she thought to reach out, although I'm not sure how much help I actually was.
I was working that night, so we texted until nearly dawn. I did my best to reassure her. There wasn't much else for me to do, not being privy to the extent of his injuries. My experience made me think the worst, yet I hoped for the best, and I told her to do the same. When the texts stopped, I knew it wasn't good. As I drove home in the morning rush-hour, her heart-breaking text appeared on my phone. There was nothing more to say, no more hope to give. He was gone.
I'm not sure why this is hitting me so hard. I see accidents and tragedy every day. I've spent my career objectifying and de-humanizing death, making it clinical rather than emotional, in order to become more proficient at my job. I think all of us in the medical profession do, to a certain extent. We build up walls to get through our days, so we can maintain perspective and keep coming back for more. I've seen my share of families grieve, but I always do so with a sense of detached professionalism. If I didn't, I wouldn't be able to get anything done, and wouldn't do anyone any good. But this was different. All professionalism was set aside. There were no walls. I guess that's why it's affecting me so. His death and her grief caught me off guard, bursting my professional bubble. This time, I couldn't help but to feel her fear, her loss, her utter sorrow. Each emotion hit me like a ton of bricks. Everything hit so close to home. And that's when the waterworks began.
I'm not sure what lesson there is to be learned from all of this. Maybe that I am more human and susceptible to emotion than I'd like to believe. Or maybe just to be thankful for my family and all of our blessings, because everything can be taken in an instant. Either way, I'm going to give Mouse the biggest, longest hug possible when I get back to Denver next week.
That was the text I received from a friend the other morning. My stomach dropped and eyes welled just seeing the words. The he was her husband. Her world had just been turned upside down, smashed to pieces. Her pain resonated in each and every word. He had been in a motorcycle accident the night before; hit by an oncoming car right before her eyes. She was following a mere car-length behind. The medical team did their best, but it didn't matter. Even though they worked tirelessly for hours, his injuries were just too massive. He slipped away in the wee hours of the morning. He was only twenty-eight.
I've cried for days for her. The tears won't stop. The strange thing is, we aren't even that close. I've never even met him. Still, I was the one she called after they rolled him into the OR. I suppose it's because I'm the only nurse she knows. She needed to hear a voice of reason; someone to help her make sense of all the medical-speak. I'm OK with that. I'm just glad she thought to reach out, although I'm not sure how much help I actually was.
I was working that night, so we texted until nearly dawn. I did my best to reassure her. There wasn't much else for me to do, not being privy to the extent of his injuries. My experience made me think the worst, yet I hoped for the best, and I told her to do the same. When the texts stopped, I knew it wasn't good. As I drove home in the morning rush-hour, her heart-breaking text appeared on my phone. There was nothing more to say, no more hope to give. He was gone.
I'm not sure why this is hitting me so hard. I see accidents and tragedy every day. I've spent my career objectifying and de-humanizing death, making it clinical rather than emotional, in order to become more proficient at my job. I think all of us in the medical profession do, to a certain extent. We build up walls to get through our days, so we can maintain perspective and keep coming back for more. I've seen my share of families grieve, but I always do so with a sense of detached professionalism. If I didn't, I wouldn't be able to get anything done, and wouldn't do anyone any good. But this was different. All professionalism was set aside. There were no walls. I guess that's why it's affecting me so. His death and her grief caught me off guard, bursting my professional bubble. This time, I couldn't help but to feel her fear, her loss, her utter sorrow. Each emotion hit me like a ton of bricks. Everything hit so close to home. And that's when the waterworks began.
I'm not sure what lesson there is to be learned from all of this. Maybe that I am more human and susceptible to emotion than I'd like to believe. Or maybe just to be thankful for my family and all of our blessings, because everything can be taken in an instant. Either way, I'm going to give Mouse the biggest, longest hug possible when I get back to Denver next week.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Puzzle Pieces
It was, quite honestly, the perfect long weekend. We didn't go out for fancy dinners, or even do anything remotely romantic. We didn't book a room at a plush hotel, opting for more budget-friendly options instead. All of the schmancy stuff would have been nice, but it wasn't necessary. We both knew this weekend wasn't about the trappings of a typical vacation. Instead, it was about being together, about being us. And that is exactly what we did.
As soon as my boys arrived in town, all was right with the world. It only took a moment for my loneliness and apprehension to melt away. There they were - my husband, grinning the biggest grin I could fathom, and the puppy, wagging his tail so vigorously his body quaked. My own joy could barely be contained. After weeks apart, it was as if there had never been any distance between us. We were instantaneously a family again.
There's something to be said about our ability to fall right back into being us, about our ability to bounce back from long separations. I suppose the absence might make our hearts grow a teensy bit fonder, and help us appreciate each other a little more, but I swear that nothing truly changes. For better or worse (mostly better, I think), we land right smack dab in the middle of our old habits. We might bicker the same, as per our established patterns, but we also love the same, which overrides it all.
In retrospect, this weekend was, actually, a whole lot of nothing. We laughed by the campfire. We ribbed each other along our hike. We watched the puppy chase the waves along Newport Beach. Individually, each activity seems small and insignificant. But together, they help construct the puzzle of who we are. And after weeks of being apart, I realized that is exactly what I (and we) needed.
As soon as my boys arrived in town, all was right with the world. It only took a moment for my loneliness and apprehension to melt away. There they were - my husband, grinning the biggest grin I could fathom, and the puppy, wagging his tail so vigorously his body quaked. My own joy could barely be contained. After weeks apart, it was as if there had never been any distance between us. We were instantaneously a family again.
There's something to be said about our ability to fall right back into being us, about our ability to bounce back from long separations. I suppose the absence might make our hearts grow a teensy bit fonder, and help us appreciate each other a little more, but I swear that nothing truly changes. For better or worse (mostly better, I think), we land right smack dab in the middle of our old habits. We might bicker the same, as per our established patterns, but we also love the same, which overrides it all.
In retrospect, this weekend was, actually, a whole lot of nothing. We laughed by the campfire. We ribbed each other along our hike. We watched the puppy chase the waves along Newport Beach. Individually, each activity seems small and insignificant. But together, they help construct the puzzle of who we are. And after weeks of being apart, I realized that is exactly what I (and we) needed.
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