My little dog Toad is the best. She really is. She is so ridiculous and happy and cute, and she’s always excited to see me, even if I’ve been in an ugly mood all day or my hair is looking like a sea anemone or I’m having an existential crisis. No matter what, she’s hopping in the air as high as her three legs will boost her and smiling a huge dog smile and breathing that horrible dragon breath all over everything.
And these are her relatives:
Mark my words: I will never, ever sell Toad to Budweiser.
But I am 100% in favor of men in Carhartt jackets.
Every morning, I pull up CNN.com to read about current events. As a person with no TV who despises talk radio, it’s the only window I have to the outside world.
This morning, rather than reading about politics (so long, Santorum) or George Zimmerman (so long, lawyers), I opted to click on this link:
“Texter looks up, sees 400-pound bear”
I am so glad that this moment was captured on film.
Speaking of bears, I mentioned that Toad got her summer haircut. She went from looking like this:
to this:
So long, bear. Hello, 3-legged baby cow with a feather extension behind her ear.
(I promise, she is cuter and less pathetic than this picture makes her out to be.)
(But only a little.)
And with that, I’ll take my leave. I’m pretty sure I’m going to spend the entire day thinking about:
1) paying my estimated quarterly taxes,
2) how we still haven’t found a house to move into, and
3) the fact that in just 8 days, HUNTER IS COMING TO VISIT – which means that once again, this moment will be made possible:
I cannot wait.
In my opinion, the world’s scariest creature is not a shark, or a bear, or even a naked mole rat. The one beast that I never hope to meet in a dark alley is a moose.
Moose are some mean mother truckers.
Ever since I read “Hatchet,” and the kid was stranded alone in the Canadian wilderness, and the moose swam up in the lake UNDERNEATH HIM and gored him with his horns, I have been terrified. This is unfortunate, because tomorrow, I will board a boat bound for the Last Frontier, where people see moose outside of the local Applebees.
But who knows – maybe moose will win me over.
Perhaps if Alison Krauss serenaded the encounter?
(Why does that make me want to laugh so hard?)
Speaking of savage behemoths, I just learned that the state marine animal of Alaska (every state should have one) is the bowhead whale. This is by far the ugliest beast I have ever seen.
If I don’t return, you can either blame the state of Alaska for death-by-wildlife, or Christopher McCandless for the inspiration to just never come back. At this point, it’s a toss up.
As I mentioned yesterday, I am house-sitting / dog-sitting this weekend. Sleeping in a king size bed is weird. I like my little double mattress. The king bed just feels so… huge, and excessive, and unnecessary, and lonely.
Oh! But it’s not lonely when you have two gigantic Labradors to share the space!
Gah. I will never understand people who let their dogs sleep on the bed (sorry, Becca, and all you other crazy dog people).
Don’t get me wrong – I love dogs. I LOVE them. But there is a reason that L.L. Bean is still in business, and I’m pretty sure that it has nothing to do with their multi-colored fleeces. Although the Christmas 2006 Parsons family might beg to differ:
Whoa. Didn’t mean to quit blogging. But it happened for a second.
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I was invited to spend this coming Saturday on a pontoon boat with 30 other people.
I would rather streak across a golf course.
Many of the people who are going to be on the boat read this blog, and I want you to know that truly, it’s not you – it’s me. Nowhere on my list of favorite things does it read “sun,” “heat,” “burn,” “sweat,” or “stranded with no escape.”
Incidentally, these are all of the same reasons I hated summer camp – although I can emphatically say that the number one reason I hated summer camp was the fear of getting my first period away from home. (Sorry for saying “period.” Oh, and sorry for saying it again.)
Instead of doing something summery and boatish and what some might call “dreamy,” my Memorial Day weekend plans include the following:
- Pet-sitting for a former co-worker (uh oh)
- Cleaning out the 12-year old black lab’s eyes on a daily basis (the owner showed me how – and I’m serious, I might vomit every day)
- Seeing Lori McKenna at 12th & Porter on Friday night – oh, sweet bliss!
- Babysitting for very cute twins on Saturday night
- Holding babies in the church nursery on Sunday night
- Welcoming Julie back from the Caribbean
- Welcoming Nashville Miranda back from Argentina
- Hanging with Erin Castioni – which could quite possibly lead to all manner of spontaneity. I mean, remember last time?
What are YOU doing for Memorial Day weekend?
I’m always perusing Craigslist, and in my recent days of unemployment, I am particularly drawn to the “Free” section. The other day, I saw this:
Napkin rings. 8 gold, 8 silver/gold. Free to a good home.
I’m sorry, but inanimate objects do not qualify for a prerequisite “good home.” A puppy? Yes. A bunny? Of course. Napkin rings? You need to be okay with it if a sociopath wants those bad boys. Learn to let go.
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Remember when Julie and I saw a coyote last year? Well, they’re back.
And they don’t take no prisoners.
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But perhaps my biggest laugh came from my dad. Both of my parents are on Facebook (and if you’re my friend, chances are my mom has asked me about you, knows what you look like, and could pick you out on the street), and I get a kick out of their status updates.
A recent one of my dad’s:
My siblings and I talked it over, and couldn’t figure out what this was about. So last night at dinner, we asked him. It turns out that he posted a status update in which he misspelled “Parsons.” So he deleted it, and then wrote this new one announcing that he wished that he could spell “Parsons.” However, his initial status update with the misspelled “Parsons” disappeared, so there was no context for this new one. So he tried to delete it. But he accidentally clicked “Like,” giving himself props. And then he just left it.
My dad is hilarious and adorable.
I kissed a baby cow while wearing high heels.
We went grocery shopping at BB’s, an Amish paradise in which you find bargains like 50 cent jars of chutney, or 9 full-size Butterfingers for $1.50, or a slightly smashed box of Cheez-Its for 75 cents, or apples for 39 cents/pound. It was like God raining down manna from heaven, and packing it in the trunk of my car for the return trip.
Rebecca was a GORGEOUS bride. But of course, I never got a picture of her handsome groom. Way to go, Annie. How can you even be related to the Parsons Photographers?
Other gems: I met both Paul’s parents and Graham’s parents (I love meeting my friend’s parents). We ate amazing home-cooked meals at the Zimmerman-Clayton household. I wore a sweatshirt that said “Penn State Mom” most of the time. There were chocolate chip cream cheese cupcakes at Central Market. I learned a lot about the Amish. We watched an hilariously awful movie called “The Happening.” Paul and I ran for 7 miles through the farmland – but wait, that was terrible.
We documented our car ride to Pennsylvania. In the beginning we are full of enthusiasm, but soon spiral to misery, and then to sleepy insanity. We had absolutely no desire to film our return trip – we were too busy driving through a blizzard and discussing the world’s problems, using words unfit for camera – so unfortunately (but trust me – fortunately), this is all I have for you.
Pennsylvania Road Trip from Annie Parsons on Vimeo.
I share a front stoop with my next-door neighbor. As I approached my front door today after running errands, she and 2 men were hauling in a gigantic plywood-and-wire cage, approximately 6′x4′x3′.
Me: “What is that?”
Her: “This is a cage for my flying squirrel.”
Ladies and gentlemen, without even trying, I have found the first candidate for my squirrel club.
