November, 2013

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Evergreen

Friday, November 22nd, 2013

Major changes at work. The tragic death of a guy from my hometown. The Austin Sigg sentencing. Stress and uncertainty. Too many work dinners, not enough exercise. Men being straight-up disappointing. A puppy that barks from 4-7am. And a high of 20-freaking-degrees yesterday.

This week wasn’t my favorite.

Next week, the holiday season begins – which, in the past few years especially, has felt so horrendously sad. Who can celebrate when so much is wrong? How disingenuous can we be? Gone away is the bluebird, here to stay is a cuss word. The weather outside is frightful, and I’m feeling rather spiteful. Follow me in merry measure, while the world kills all our pleasure. Faithful friends who are dear to us disappear to us once more. And will someone bring me some damn figgy pudding already?

The halcyon years are over. We know too much. And whenever the saccharine feels like overkill, I tend to overcompensate in the other direction – choosing the bitter over the sweet.

But, you know, I bought a pumpkin. And it’s still sitting in the middle of my dining room table, reminding me that this life is marked by seasons. While “autumn” makes me think of blazing colors, crisp air, and Anthropologie sweaters, “fall” feels like the beginning of deadness – the literal falling of what used to be so alive. And as I watch the world around me expire, trees stripped bare and everything left shivering, I remember that something has to die in order for something new to live.

So I’m trading in my pumpkin for my very first tiny Christmas tree. I have no tinsel, no lights. But I’m placing it on my mantle as a reminder of what is unchanging – an evergreen in the midst of transition – a sign that even when everything around is dying, some things are constant. And if we stick around long enough, something new is sure to begin.

After Thanksgiving, maybe I’ll start by hanging an ornament.

I’m a fan

Tuesday, November 12th, 2013

I got a bike and a puppy within a week of each other, and this is what it looks like: wake up (in the dark) to take dog on walk, ride to work at natural foods company, ride home at lunch to take dog on walk, ride back to work at natural foods company, ride home at dinner (in the dark) to take dog on walk, rinse, lather, repeat. My days have been full, even when there are no real markers of “accomplishment” – besides, you know, burning a bunch of calories, keeping Foxy alive, and not crashing on my bike.

I’m in love with this little pup, though. True to my prediction, she is ruining my life (so far she’s chewed on the legs of the dining room table, pooped on the rug, woken me up at 3am, 4am, 5am, and barked incessantly at my bedside when I try to go back to sleep) – but somehow, she’s still won me over. I’m a fan.

(Ready for the segue?) Guess what else I’m a fan of?

Leopard print
Epicurean Black Truffle Butter
Kale Krunch
A variety of Frye boots
“The Newsroom”
This interview with Gretchen Peters (she is fascinating and inspiring)
This interview with Nadia Bolz-Weber (again: fascinating and inspiring)

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to spend the day dreaming of owning a Winnebago and driving around West Virginia without a care in the world.

foxy

Duluth

Wednesday, November 6th, 2013

This past summer, I helped run a singer-songwriter contest at work. This was one of the entries.

Is that guy Minnesota or what?

Gabriel Douglas wound up being one of the winners of the contest, and I met him in San Diego when he opened for Gregory Alan Isakov. His personality is bigger than life (as is his beard); he’s like a caricature of himself. And since he makes me laugh A LOT, we became fast friends.

When we met, one of the first things he said to me was, “Duluth is the greatest city in the world.” Duluth. Duluth, Minnesota. The song above is about Duluth, Minnesota. And geographical chauvinist that I am, I knew that this could not possibly be true – Gabe Douglas must be very sheltered. Minnesotans must never get out.

Those humble Midwesterners – they’re so precious.

But when a work trip took me to Minneapolis last week, I decided to make the jaunt north on Friday night to hear one of Gabe’s bands play in – you guessed it – Duluth.

And I loved it.

Duluth is nestled on the shore of Lake Superior, built right up on a hillside. When I-35 dropped down toward the city, the lights were sparkling on the water and the stars were bright as flashbulbs. I used all of my hotel points for a room on the waterfront, and then walked up the hill to the little downtown strip.

We spent most of the evening at Tycoons, a bar/restaurant that used to be the City Hall, with a speakeasy in the basement that used to be the town jail, all “Not in Nottingham” style. Since Gabe was my only friend and he was busy being the Most Popular Man in Duluth, I made friends with the locals. By the time the show was over, I’d social butterflied my way around town, crashing into bed at 3am because Duluth makes you wild and crazy.

The next morning involved a stroll along the water, coffee at a bakery called Amazing Grace, and – once again – the confirmation that my assumptions aren’t always right. Of all places, I can’t wait to go back to Duluth, Minnesota. It charmed me.

[And speaking of charming, listen to this song Gabe wrote for his niece on her 3rd birthday. It’s magic. You’ll be happy the rest of the day.]

Introducing Foxy Brains

Monday, November 4th, 2013

My sister Becca works for All Aboard Animal Rescue, where they pull dogs from high-kill shelters – usually in New Mexico – and bring them to Colorado to adopt them out. Coloradans love dogs. The state animal is probably a Shelter Dog.

About a week ago, I went to one of her adoption events to hold the puppies brought up through the Underground Tailroad (come on, that’s too good), needing a snuggle fix. Since it was the week of Halloween, all of the puppies had been given spooky-themed names: Goblin, Creepy, Crawly, Spider. I was not going to bring one home – but maybe I was asking for it. I fell in love.

Her name was Brains.

puppy

You don’t want the responsibility of a dog, people say. You travel too much. You’ll lose your freedom. And it’s true – ever since Toad died in July, I’ve really enjoyed having the ability to go wherever, whenever, without the worry of “I have to get home to let the dog out.” Life has been manageable. It’s been easy. I’ve been footloose and fancy-free.

But I’ve also been lonely. And self-focused. And a tiny bit bored.

These are not themes that belong in the life of Annie Parsons.

So after a few days in Minnesota for a work trip, I got back to Denver on Saturday and took custody of my new best friend.

foxy

She’s a 9-week old mongrel – maybe part Australian Shepherd, part Border Collie, part extra fluff. Her ears are lopsided, one of them being closer to the middle of her forehead than the other – and her little eyebrows are expressive and close together. Meal time is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to her. Bath time is the worst. She is smart and curious, and sleeps through the night in her crate like a champ. So far, her favorite things are her squeaky turtle and my bed skirt.

And since there is no other word I’d rather have my name associated with on a regular basis, her name is Foxy – Foxy Brains, because she’s more than just a pretty face.

She’s about to ruin my life. For the better.

foxy3