June, 2010

...now browsing by month

 

Hypothetically

Wednesday, June 30th, 2010

Let’s pretend that there’s a girl. She’s a nice girl with a lot of friends, and at least moderately interesting. She has hobbies. She has a creative mind. Some might even find her pretty. She is independent, a la Kelly Clarkson and Destiny’s Child – a rent check in one hand and a glass of Pinot in the other.

She has been making her life spin on her own for a good long while now. And while she might like to meet a good man someday, in theory, she would rather be alone than wish that she was.

However, hypothetically speaking, let’s just say that out of curiosity, she decided to try online dating.

And hypothetically, she was matched with this man.

And while she is sure that he is a very nice person, in this make believe scenario, thus ended the completely theoretical experiment.

Have I mentioned my state of physical woe?

Tuesday, June 29th, 2010

Last Thursday morning, I was in a car accident.  Don’t worry – the Honda’s fine – or, at least she will be after the other guy’s insurance pays for a new $750 bumper.  Do you know what this means?  I am losing my bumper stickers.  All of them.  No more “FRESH BEER.”  No more “VIVA NASHVEGAS: EAT MORE RHINESTONES.”

This is probably for the best.

While my car will be spiffed up in no time, I am suffering the effects of whiplash.  My lash was whipped.  I am stiff and sore, and can barely turn to the left to check my blind spot when I drive.  I don’t even want to think about what further calamity this could lead to for the Honda.

But you can’t keep a badass down, and on Sunday, I walked a grand total of 17 miles – a 9 mile hike south of the city, and then an 8 mile walk back in Denver.  When I finally got home, with the force attainable only by a girl who had just walked 17 miles, I stubbed my toe on the couch.  I stubbed it so hard, so mightily, that I thought I was going to pass out from the pain.

It didn’t take long to figure out that my toe – the same one that I broke back in January – is blasted to smithereens.  I won’t go into the dirty details, but let’s just say that it’s swollen beyond recognition (I’m sorry, are you a toe?), and black, and the bruising wraps around to the bottom of my foot, spidering its way up the ball.

Sorry.  Maybe those were the dirty details.

So that brings us up to the present moment: ice on my foot, heat on my neck, wishing for whiskey.

Good morning.

In other news, look what happened to my sister.  She’s always getting picked up by guys.

Worth every tear

Monday, June 28th, 2010

When I first saw a copy of Jakob Dylan’s new album, “Women and Country,” I was immediately intrigued. I mean, come on – look at the cover.

Even better, check out the cover of his EP, the precursor to the full record.

Based on these two pictures, this is the coolest man alive. And this album confirms it… because holy mother of pearl, it is phenomenal. I’ve had it on repeat – it’s the soundtrack to my existence these days.

So on Friday afternoon, just before I left work, I checked his website to see if he was coming to Denver anytime soon. I pulled up the tour dates, and right there at the top of the list was my city. I couldn’t believe it – I checked the date, and… HE WAS PLAYING THAT VERY NIGHT, one mile from my house.

Serendipity? Me thinks YES.

I kicked it into gear, and ran down to the theater to buy a lone ticket. I couldn’t believe that there were still seats available with just an hour to spare, but $28 later, I was hurrying home to change and scoot back in time for the show.

Except.

Somewhere in the mile between my house and the theater, I lost the ticket. It was in my back pocket when I set off for the venue, but when I arrived at the door, it was gone. I panicked, telling the girl at the box office my situation, showing her my receipt – but no dice. No ticket, no admission.

The show was about to start, but I turned around and started to retrace my steps home. I bent down to check every scrap of paper I saw, but it was always a bus ticket, a receipt, a matchbook. My shoes started to give me blisters, so I took them off and walked barefoot in the dark. By the time I got halfway home, picking up every piece of trash I found, no sign of the ticket, shoes in hand, totally devastated – I just started to cry.

And I couldn’t stop.

In my own defense, I wasn’t just being dramatic.  The tears were the culmination of several incredibly difficult things happening in my life right now – things that are weighing around my neck heavier than a millstone. Losing my ticket put me over the edge; I was a hot mess.

So I did the only thing that I knew to do in times of distress, which was… you know, call my mom.

She encouraged me to go back and get another ticket, so I did. Except when I showed up at the box office (again – third time in two hours), I was STILL CRYING. It wasn’t that I was trying to make them feel sorry for me – I simply could not pull it together. I was sniffling and wiping black rivers of mascara from my cheeks – it was not pretty.

The manager took one look at me, and ushered me in without question.

And it was the greatest show.

Now, I’m not endorsing stuffing your emotions in until they erupt on a Denver street corner.  All I’m saying is… it might come in handy.

(Bosom?) Friend Fridays

Friday, June 25th, 2010

It’s been awhile since I’ve done a blog series.

In fact, I think the last series I did was A-Z.  Who’s been reading since the A-Z days?  Anyone?

Awwww.  Bless your hearts.  Both of you.

I want to do another series – mostly because choosing a theme keeps me focused, and narrows down a topic.  These days, my blog concentration is similar to that dog in “Up.”  There I am, waxing poetic about life, purpose, faith, dreams, emotions, culture, pain, SQUIRREL.

I am happy to announce that for the indefinite future, Fridays will henceforth be known as Friend Fridays – or maybe Bosom Friend Fridays, mostly because I want to boost my awkward keyword searches.  In any case, I am of the opinion that I know some of the coolest people in the world, and if my piffling little blog can be of any good at all, it would be to draw attention to some of these incredible folks.

So friends of mine, get ready to be made famous – or at least, in this little corner of the internet sky, LOCALLY famous (being a local celebrity is so much more awesome than being a real one).  It will happen when you least expect it.

This is going to be the best thing since “The Baby-Sitters Club” Super Specials.

Walking, Work, Whoa Mama!

Thursday, June 24th, 2010

Remember when I boldly proclaimed that I was going to walk 1,000 miles between Memorial Day and Labor Day?

Well, then I went to Nashville, where being outside in the summer is the equivalent of being in utero without an umbilical cord.  Is that gross of me to say?  I don’t know – do YOU remember your time in the womb?

Anyway, due to sheer self-preservation and the fact that I value my life, my walking fell behind.  And back in Denver, as of today, June 24, I am only at 119 miles.

Granted, 13 of those miles were yesterday.  THIRTEEN!  I will make up for lost time yet.  Because, as New Math puts it:

– – – – – – – –

I spent yesterday at an online marketing convention, manning a booth for work.  People were asking for my business card.  I’ve never had anyone ask for my business card before!  I was like, “Hello, I am An Expert.  Nice to meet you.”

My friend Scotty recently told me that she likes getting my emails so much that I should somehow find a way to get paid to correspond with people.  That was so nice of her – because after all, I do love to write emails.

But then I thought, hello.  That IS my job.

Hooray!

– – – – – – – –

A lot of you have asked how my mom is doing.  She had her final radiation treatment, and is completely finished with all scheduled cancer treatment.  She is currently in Washington state visiting family and friends, and will be active and walking and hiking the whole time – because she is Susan Freaking Parsons and she defies the odds.

I was on the phone with her the other night, and about to hang up.

“Wait!” she cried.  “I’ve been meaning to ask you something for weeks.”

I prepared myself for talk of money, or maybe why I’m single.

“Do you leave your curtains open?  Because I’ve been worried about sun damage to your couch.”

What would I do without this woman?

Something to talk about

Wednesday, June 23rd, 2010

I was in Nashville last week, where, as a friend of mine said, it was “hotter than a three-balled tomcat.”  The heat in the South is truly, truly oppressive.  You don’t know what you have until it’s gone – and yes, I am referring to AIR.

I am also referring to my car every time it gets stolen.  But I digress.

And I change the subject.

Who has World Cup fever?  Not me!  I wish I did, because it would give me something to talk about with other humans (I have enough trouble with that as it is).  It’s sort of like living in Denver and not being a snow-sporter – I am automatically an outsider.

I can’t help it.  I would rather talk about my feelings.  My feelings, or how long my hair is getting (almost to bra-strap length, which is the goal, by the way).  Or how much I am loving Jakob Dylan’s “Women and Country.”  Or the fact that I recently referred to what could have been an awkward run-in with someone as being, in fact, “super natural” – and the other person translating it as “supernatural,” and how that confusion delighted me to the very marrow in my bones.

Mostly, I think that I just love words the very most of everything.

Heaven stands

Monday, June 21st, 2010

I will never understand this life, furious and fragile.

Please pray for my friend Steve.

I’m listening to JJ Heller‘s “Your Hands” and “All I Need” this morning, and pleading that the words be true.

DIA –> BNA

Thursday, June 17th, 2010

Good gracious.

I am in Nashville, where I have been hit with humidity like a French kiss from the devil himself.

Oddly, I don’t mind all that much.  Being with these people that I love has been so good for my soul.  I’ve overbooked myself (as usual), and am running a zillion miles an hour to keep up.  I wouldn’t skip a single thing, though.

I am so thankful that I am currently able to live life in both Colorado and Tennessee – able to be closer to my family, and still maintaining so much of what I have going on here in Nashville.  I get the best of both worlds.  I couldn’t have planned an existence in which this would be possible – and yet, here I am, living it.

Life is not always easy, but it’s wicked good.

Stop ticking

Tuesday, June 15th, 2010

My friend Fred Wilhelm writes great songs.  I talked to him a few months back, and told him that some of my happiest moments of the past year were the times that I heard him play this one:

I mean, seriously?  That is just the coolest.  I hope this isn’t sacrilegious, but when I hear him play this song, it feels like church.  “I’m here today ’cause that brave woman begot me” – I want to shout hallelujah.

I’m thinking about my own family today – how we have our own unique story, one that keeps progressing and morphing with time, for better and for worse, each of us changing and becoming and growing into whoever it is that we are, whoever it is that we were created to be.  We are equal parts comedy and tragedy – and a total gong show, at times.  We are far, far from perfection, but still, “when I’m with ’em, it’s like Thanksgiving.”

Today, my littlest sister Sarah is moving to Haiti. At 22-years old (and more mature than the other three of us kids put together – no offense, Jeremy and Becca, I know you agree), she bought a one-way ticket, and is moving to one of the poorest countries in the world to do a little good.  Those of us who know her know that she will do more than “a little” good, and while we will miss her terribly, can’t put into words how proud we are of her.

If I ever wrote a song about my family, today would be an important line.

I AM ONE GIANT STRESS BALL.

Monday, June 14th, 2010

I am flying to Nashville tonight, and am the world’s worst packer.  No, really.  War is to mankind as Annie is to packing.  I ruin everything.  I pack too little, or too much, or all the wrong shoes.

Speaking of shoes, I bought a yellow dress to wear to Brook & Cara’s wedding this weekend, and I don’t have the right shoes for it.  I’m panicking.  I don’t have time to go buy new shoes – and even if I did, what WOULD be the right shoes to wear with this yellow dress?

Also, I know: I bought a YELLOW dress, something I really thought should never happen.  But I was feeling ballsy, so I bought it.  When I told my mom, she said, “Yellow?  YELLOW?  Are you sure?”  So now my confidence is shaken.  I’m worried that I will look ugly in yellow.  It really isn’t my color, I know.  I should have known better.

Last night, I dreamed that the Honda was broken into, and my big red leather bag was stolen, along with my laptop, my wallet, and my calendar.  I was most upset about my calendar.

It’s 55 degrees in Denver, and my fingers and toes are frozen.  But I’m heading to Nashville where I am going to melt like jelly in a frying pan – and not in the good, fluttery, crush-worthy way.  In the “this must be what it feels like to die” kind of way.

All I want to do is tell you how I made homemade cantaloupe bruschetta yesterday, and how amazing it was.  But I can’t.  I can’t, because EVERYTHING FEELS WRONG RIGHT NOW.

!!!!!!! !! !! !! !! ! ! !!!!!!!! ! !!!!

If you can’t bear your ugly heart on the internet, well then.  I just don’t want to live in that kind of world.