On Sunday, while talking to my mom, one of my major insecurities fell out of my mouth.  Without the slightest hesitation, it slipped off my tongue – and landed right there on the coffee table.

“Where did you learn that?” she asked.  “Why do you feel that way about yourself?”

And for the past 36 hours, I’ve been thinking about the “reasons why.”  For an all-around self-confident girl, I’ve spent a lifetime banking reinforcements for a few stupid insecurities.

A few days ago, I got word that John Medina, a dear friend, former employer, and bona fide GENE CLONER was going to be speaking in Denver last night – so of course, I went.  I’ve heard John speak in Seattle many times about his research on the brain – how it works and what we know – but no matter how many times you hear him, he’s always engaging, entertaining, and brilliant.  It was so good to see a familiar face.

Last night, he said that research shows that it takes 3 reinforcements for the brain to learn something, and 50 to unlearn it.

For a girl like me with a lot to unlearn, those are some really bad odds.

Once again, it’s time to combat with a Hiroshima of Truth.

So, remember why I moved to Denver?  Because my mom has cancer?

Well, as she put it this weekend, “I’m not sure that I have cancer.  But I KNOW that I have chemotherapy.”

It’s true.  In the last 2 months since the initial diagnosis, cancer has felt like a joke, a deception.  This woman is a hoss.  I mean, when I was a little girl, she once climbed a neighbor’s fence in her nightgown at 11pm to free our cat from a trap he had baited with tuna fish (long story).  She has had three surgeries, and bounced back like nobody’s business.  After the tumor was removed in early November, and even after she had a significant amount of muscle and tissue removed from her hip and thigh a month later, she has been walking without a limp, relatively painless – kicking ass and taking names, basically.  Even after the diagnosis, nothing about her outward health indicated that wicked, sinful cells were present in her body.

But then she started chemo.

Let me tell you something, friends – if you have never seen anyone experience the horrors of chemotherapy, then there is no way to understand what this poison does to the body.  I didn’t know – not really.  But last week, I learned really quickly.  And it’s terrible.

Round 1 of infusion is over, and the next 13 days will consist of her body rebounding, only to be taken down again during round 2.  It’s like pushing a boulder up a hill, only to watch it roll back down to the bottom.  Second verse, the same as the first – a little bit louder and a little bit worse.

Apparently, 89% of people who experience chemo lose their hair.  In my mom’s case, it would happen 14 days after her first infusion – which is a week from today.  We’ll see.

For those of you who don’t know, my mom has gorgeous red hair.

Oh, you’ve never seen?  ALLOW ME TO SHOW YOU.

(angels singing)  Have you ever seen hair CASCADE like that?

And for one more recent, here are my parents today.

If you are a man, you should probably ask me to marry you RIGHT NOW.  These are my genes, people.  It’s only going to get better.

A lot of you have asked how my mom is doing, so I wanted to give you an update.  I might have taken the opportunity to petition for a man, too – but don’t worry, Mom surely approves.

(Right, Mom?)

Yesterday, my favorite Handy Graham gave me a ring – not a diamond ring (I should be so lucky), just a phone call.

We shot the breeze for a few minutes, and then he asked, “How’s it going there?  Are you doing okay?”  It was earnest and sincere.  My eyes stung for a few seconds, I blinked a few times to compose myself, and then told him.

For the rest of you, I bucked up and made a video.

Denverado from Annie Parsons on Vimeo.

It was -12 (that would be MINUS TWELVE DEGREES) when I woke up this morning.

I forgot to mention that I am now outfitted for Colorado.

This is called the Lodge Parka, which is most appropriate for me, since I’m not really a “winter sporter” (not that I’m really a “summer sporter” either).  But a lodge?  That I can do.

Has anyone read “Water for Elephants” by Sara Gruen?  I loved it so much.  It’s about the circus, which reminds me of what I think is my favorite song ever, “Circus Girl” by Gretchen Peters.  I’m not positive that it’s my most favoritest of the entire world of life, but I THINK that it is.

And in the past few weeks, some of my most-loved people have gotten engaged… to each other!

Mark and Erin!

Brook and Cara!

Josh and Meg!

Already having made travel plans for a wedding in Seattle in February and another in Austin in March, my 2010 matrimonial calendar is swiftly filling up.

When I moved to Nashville two years ago, I switched to Bank of America because I never wanted to have to switch my bank account again – so naturally, I chose the bank of AMERICA.

It turns out that Bank of America is actually the bank of NOT DENVER.

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Yellow traffic lights in Denver last roughly half as long as they do anywhere else.  When the light turns yellow, it means, “Arrest, or be arrested.”

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Every 5 minutes or so, my toilet screeches like the Nazgûl.

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The doctors installed the WRONG PORT in my MOTHER’S CHEST.  That’s probably the only time you’ll ever see the words “my mother’s chest” on this blog, so soak it up.  She showed up for her first round of chemo yesterday, and caused quite the ruckus when they discovered the WRONG PIECE OF HARDWARE SURGICALLY INSTALLED IN HER BODY.

Chemo went forward anyway, and she goes back again today.  The “Red Devil” is now pumping through her veins.  And righteous indignation is pumping through ours.

I moved up to Denver on Friday night, and have been camping out in my apartment on an air mattress; my stuff should arrive late this week.  I live off of exit 206 (an homage to Seattle) on a street called Franklin (an homage to Nashville’s little sister) next to Cheesman Park (an homage to me, the cheese man).

Over the weekend, I was invited to watch a movie with strangers, made friends with two brothers who own a wine shop, had an incredible seafood meal, lunched downtown with my mom and sister, ran into a friend from high school in the park, organized my closets, bought a brushed nickel trash can for the bathroom, went on 2 runs, tried my new shower (it is awesome), and visited a church.

I keep driving around, thinking, “I can’t believe I live here” – and not because I’m shocked at the reality, but more because it doesn’t feel real AT ALL.  It’s like a fake life.  I’m like this kid.  I know that it will become more real with time, but right now, it feels like I’m pretending.

Well, then, here’s a hefty dose of real life: Mom’s chemo starts today.

Cancer’s going down.