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You’re dying to know about the Great Sofa Hunt.
Here’s the thing: I wish that I could be content with just any couch. But if there is one word to describe Annie Parsons, it is “particular” – just ask my poor parents who have watched me for 1 score and 7 years (often with much chagrin – sorry, Mom and Dad). I am so persnickety, it’s appalling.
Because I don’t have a lot of money, one would think that I would be happy with whatever might get tossed my way – but nay, I say to thee.
Because I don’t have a lot of money, that is ALL THE MORE REASON to invest my dollars wisely. It might not make a lot of sense, I know, but here is my line of thinking: why spend $200 dollars on something heinous that will make me miserable and ashamed every time I lay my poor, unfortunate eyes on it when I could spend $1,000 on something that will make my heart burst with sprinkles? I would rather pay more money once than less money what would wind up being multiple times.
The obvious trouble is that I usually do not have confetti-inducing funds just lying in a manila envelope under my mattress. If I did, I sure wouldn’t be driving a 20-year old Honda Accord – but then again, that’s EXACTLY why I’m driving a 20-year old Honda Accord. I could go out right now and buy a 1993 Saturn (no offense, if that’s you), but why would I do that when what I really want is keyless entry and seat warmers? It’s worth waiting for.
Does this make sense to anyone but me?
In other words, I am still couchless.
And single, as it were.
There are probably some parallels there.
I am spoiled, and I am the first to admit it. Why, you ask? Well, among many other reasons, I have two identical black Macbooks – one personal, and one for work. Let’s be real: that is just ridiculous. More than anyone could ever ask for.
But last week, my personal Macbook went kaput. It’s broken – broken like… searching for a simile… broken like… my toe? Except my toe has a fighting chance at mending – and I really don’t think that the computer will be resurrected. I turn it on, and it pulls up a white screen. That’s all. It’s like the moment after Juliette hits the bomb with the rock, except it never skips to the credits. Eternal nuclear uncertainty.
Get over it, Annie – right? I mean, I have a WHOLE OTHER COMPUTER. But my personal laptop held all of my iTunes, all of my pictures, all of my super secret documents that no one is ever allowed to see. Most of it is backed up on an external hard drive, but I don’t want to put it on my work computer. So there it will remain – locked up forever.
Mostly this is bad because I want to sync my iPod to my iTunes to get my new music and podcasts. And not only can I not put them on my iPod, I can’t even access my iTunes at all. I am SOOOOOOO BORED with my current selection of songs (I only have ninety million or something). And Ira Glass is saying things that I might never get to hear – which makes me panic.
IRA!!!! I NEED YOU!!!!!!!!
I had recently downloaded Sara Groves’ latest, “Fireflies and Songs,” but have no way of hearing it again. Lady Antebellum has a new album released today. The Handy Graham recommended Sarah Jarosz – and since he was the first one to tell me about eastmountainsouth, I trust him – not that it matters, since I can’t get my grubby paws on these songs.
Today, I have India Arie and Phil Collins on YouTube. It’s all I have left.
The Colorado air is dry.
This parched feeling is all-pervasive, making itself known in every part of my body. My skin is the Sahara, my eyeballs, sandpaper. I smile, and my bottom lip splits like the back of Chris Farley’s coat. My hands are cracking, my cuticles flaking. I cannot drink enough water.
Short from slathering myself with lard, there’s not much I can do about it. Still, I will take dry over humid any day.
Denver is incredibly sunny – over 300 days a year of sunshine. Right now, even though it’s 16 degrees outside, the light is intense. Seattle being my one true love, this brightness is an adjustment for me. My eyes are wimpy and require sunglasses basically all the time. I’m wearing sunscreen like it’s my job; being a mile closer to the sun than I was before, I walk down the block and come back pink. I need to get a hat – I’m sensitive, folks. Even my lips are freckled.
I am suspicious that every person I see out and about is an Olympic athlete. Denver is a ridiculously active city – even more than Seattle, it seems. Everyone looks young and healthy and fit and strong.
And having run 7.6 miles at a Mile High altitude yesterday morning, I dare say that I fit right in.
Speaking of health, on Friday night, I got a bee in my bonnet. And after a 2-hour wait at the very fabulous Root Down, I GOT MY BEET SALAD THANKYOUVERYMUCH.
It was not nearly as good as Fuel‘s. But the cheese plate and wine made up for it.
So… scratch that thing I said about “health.”
It’s 10am, and I’m at my kitchen table drinking coffee in my pajamas. Julie is still asleep – I can’t blame her, she drove 1,200 miles to get here. We had dinner with joeljoeljoel (SHOUT OUT) at the Cherry Cricket last night – have I mentioned that Denver is a destination? Since I moved here 3 weeks ago, I’ve met up with at least 5 out-of-town friends who have just randomly been in my new city.
That is an invitation, by the way.
Because Julie is here, I’m taking today off of work to go explore the city a bit. The plan is to walk to the downtown public library (because I drive past it every day, and it is gorgeous), maybe stroll through the Denver Art Museum, hoof it to REI, and the whole time, keep our eyes out for a place to have dinner tonight.
Tomorrow, we’ll head to Colorado Springs to be with my mom and our friend Lisa, and on Sunday morning, we’ll go on a long run.
I am so thankful for easy, low-maintenance friends. Julie doesn’t care that I don’t have a couch or a TV, or that we went to bed before 11 last night. We can’t be exciting all the time – and the ones who know this about us and honestly don’t care? They are keepers.
Oh sorry – did I quit blogging for a couple of days? I apologize. It’s just that OH MY WORD, LOOK AT MY NEW DESK.
It’s called a PARSONS desk, for crying out loud – can you say meant? to? be? This is what Gina, Leigh, and I will be supporting the Emma community off of. And I might occasionally drape myself across mine, just out of sheer obsession.
– – – – – – – –
If “the British” = “Julie” then call me Paul Revere.
It’s true. JULIE IS COMING!
Yes, Julie of JAM. When I get home from work tonight, there she’ll be. And for a few days, all will be right in my world.
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I took my car for an oil change this morning. The man at the counter asked, “Make and model?”
“Honda Accord,” I replied.
“Year?” he asked.
“Nineteen-ninety…?” he paused, prompting.
“Ninety? Really? Well, okaaaaaaay.”
No one – not even mechanics – can believe that the Honda is still alive and kicking.
– – – – – – – –
I want to be in this so bad.
A childhood friend from my hometown of Montrose, CO, is being featured on Tom Brokaw’s documentary, “American Character Along Highway 50,” which airs tonight at 8/7c on the USA Network. Watching Jeff’s clip reminds me of just how beautiful western Colorado is – one of those things that I didn’t appreciate until I moved away. If you can, tune in; I’ve watched some of the teaser videos, and it looks fascinating.
Also, Tom Brokaw… who doesn’t love Tom Brokaw??
– – – – – – – –
I hate it when people just write recaps of “what I did this weekend” – because BOOOORING – but I’m sorry, this was a great weekend. Why, pray tell? Well…
– I spent Friday night at a private party for the PBR – the bull riders, not the beer – and Pat Green winked at me from onstage.
– My dad came over on Saturday morning and helped me hang up my curtain rods and do all sorts of other “dad” things.
– I sold my couch on Craigslist for $15 more than what I paid for it…
– … so I bought these towels (please don’t look at the price, it’s embarrassing).
– I went on a long run (7.3 miles at a mile high – not too shabby).
– I had Thai food with two new friends, Karmen and Scotty – and they’re really great! Finding good people in a new city is an amazing thing.
– Duane was the East Nasty of the Week.
– One of my best friends from high school who lives in the Denver area had her first baby – welcome, Noelle Elizabeth!
– I went on a 6-mile walk around the city.
– I drove the hour down to my parents’ last night.
I don’t know, it was just a really great weekend. Productive without being work, fun without being exhausting. So far, this move has been surprisingly okay.
First things first: go get excited for my friends Annie and Hillary. Ow OWWW, ladies!
Now, let’s whiplash back to my quiet life. All I’m asking is to find a charcoal grey, non-microfiber, cozy, not-too-huge, affordable, totally sexy sectional. Craigslist is failing me at every turn.
When it comes to my home, I’m a big fan of changing things up every now and then – which probably comes no, not from a constant desire for growth and refinement, but from my deep, childhood love of “Full House.”
Think about it: the Tanners remodeled SO MANY TIMES. The basement into Uncle Jesse’s recording studio. The garage into Uncle Joey’s bedroom. The attic into Jesse and Becky’s apartment. And remember when Vicky and her interior designer mom redesigned Stephanie and Michelle’s room from primary to pastel colors and it made Danny and Vicky fight and break up?
Formative, I tell you.
There’s a lady coming to buy my little red couch tomorrow, which is awesome because that thing needs to go. But what does that mean? Yes: that my little flowered chair (of Hootenannie header fame) will be my only piece of furniture in the living room.
These are life’s challenges.
I was awake from 2-5am for no real reason at all. I just woke up out of a dead sleep, and my eyes stayed open for three hours.
I tried all sorts of things – reading, watching a movie, thinking about boring things, tossing and turning, changing the temperature, changing my blanket situation, moving out to the living room for awhile – but nothing worked. Thoughts were racing through my head – stress, mostly, I think.
I had a lot of heavy things on my mind last night – Haiti being the biggest. I’m a bit slow on the uptake, not having a TV; I knew that Haiti had been hit by an earthquake, but I had no idea the actual extent of the tragedy until I started reading articles and watching CNN.com videos last night.
If it hadn’t been for chemotherapy, my parents and my sister Sarah would have been in Haiti right now.
Sarah spent last summer working with Mission of Hope in Haiti, and fell in love with the people. The plan had been to take my parents back with her in January – right now. It’s a sweet mercy and a complete mystery why things happen the way they do.
These were the kids whose prayers were mine last night. It’s important for me to see their faces.
I love beets. I really, truly love them. If I see them on a menu, I will choose beets over almost anything else.
My least favorite color is blue. I don’t hate it, I would just never pick it for anything. If I were the captain of a kickball team, I would choose red first, and then green like my new curtains, and then maybe teal. Yellow would be one of my last choices. But not as last as blue. Blue would be the last one standing.
My left ring toe – the one next to the pinky toe – is broken. Or something. I have a tendency to overreact to physical ailments, so it’s hard to tell – but something is definitely wrong with it. All of a sudden, it’s gigantic – Elmer Fudd might as well have dropped an anvil on his foot. The weird thing is that it doesn’t really hurt – but it’s swollen and purple. I still ran for 40 minutes last night, though. That probably didn’t help.
When I run, I listen to what I have been told is the “worst running music ever” – mid-90’s country. I can’t help it. The songs are so good. In the 90’s, Nashville still operated by the principle of “the best song wins” – before it became so politicized and exclusive. So last night, I was all, “Trisha Yearwood? Patty Loveless? Blackhawk? YES PLEASE.”
These days, at least there’s Lori McKenna.
For as stilted and exhausting as it can be to move to a new city, I am reminded of something that I felt a lot of when I first moved to Nashville: potential. The first days in a new place have a lonely sweetness to them – quiet possibility. Each person that I meet might wind up being my friend. Each road I drive down might lead to a surprise.
So. Denver, ho.
I just wanted to tell you all of these things today.