If there’s anything that I love about blogging, it’s the possibility of a connection.

And no, not just for me.

Did you know that two different couples have met in the comments section of this blog, and dated for a bit?  I mean, people with NO prior association, and I had nothing to do with it – I didn’t even know it was happening until it was happening.

So, if nothing else, let that be a lesson to you: comment on blogs – you never know whose internet eye you’re going to catch with your wit and thumbnail picture.

Then again, you could wind up like me – just the ring-leading moron.

Anyway, she might be someone I have never met face-to-face.  But people, Dawn is a Hootenannie reader – she is ONE OF US – and she is trying to get to Antarctica.  I love her passion and enthusiasm for a place that so many of us think of as totally barren; this passion has led her to enter a contest in which the grand prize is a trip to the polar regions.

But she needs your votes!

Click here to vote for Dawn – to support someone you didn’t even know you were connected to – and help her dream come true.  It will cost you nothing.  And honestly (I’m channeling Ira Glass here), what kind of a person do you want to be?  Someone who sits back assuming that someone else will do it for you – or a person of ACTION?

I might be putting words in her mouth now, but I am telling you that if you vote for her, she will bring you back a baby penguin.

If eyes cleansed with tears see the most clearly, then today, I have perfect vision.

Sometimes, I think that I’ve gotten really good at confessing my tiny faults in hopes that no one will ever suspect nor discover the big ones.  But lately, I’m not very good at hiding them – and as a result, have been pummeled with my rather large, rather imperfect, imperfections.

I guess that’s bound to happen when you exist in relationship with other humans.

We are messy creatures.  I am a messy creature.

And sometimes, it brings a lot of tears.

But I’m learning that the people who stay – the ones who don’t run away when the going gets tough, the ones who listen without trying to fix, the ones who forgive ugly words and flat-lined attitudes and the same old shit that you carry around no matter how your life changes or morphs or moves – are worth anything and everything it takes.

Communication.  Honesty.  Vulnerability.  Compromise.  Effort.  Forgiveness.

I am learning a lot.  And I don’t call them my “starter husbands” for nothing.

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My friend Heather (SHOUT OUT – hey girl heeeeey) recently told me that this blog is the only “Dear Diary” blog that doesn’t make her want to vomit.  Well, that kind of made me want to vomit, because wait – I don’t write a “Dear Diary” blog, do I?

Who am I kidding.

GAH.  Enough about my feelings.  I’m changing the subject.

I woke up this morning with 7 spider bites on my thigh, abdomen, and armpit.

I never go to movies, but all of a sudden, I want to see a ton: “Away We Go,” “Harry Potter,” “Where the Wild Things Are,” “Julie and Julia,” “The Time Traveler’s Wife” (you know during the preview where he says, “You have a choice,” and she says, “I never had a choice”?  I LOSE MY MIND), and “500 Days of Summer.”

I wish I had a cute lunch bag.

I don’t have anything to say today.  Because I already said it all to Joey.

Joey is a blog friend (good NIGHT, we are such internet nerds), a law student in Austin, a writer, a seeker, a thinker – and as you will see, basically the next Stone Phillips.

I apologize for the lack of substance on this blog this week.  I promise to resume some substantial, witty, entertaining posting someday soon.  But until then, this is all I have for you:

- I’ve filled out 3 March Madness brackets.  In one of them, in honor of Andy Bernard, I chose Cornell to win it all.
- This year, I remembered that a 16-seed team does not mean that “16 out of 16 times, THEY WIN!”
- I made mango chicken curry in Duane’s crockpot for “Lost” last night – but I added couscous to the mix, making it all an oatmealy-consistency.  Failure.  But at least it was curry-flavored oatmeal?
- Speaking of “Lost” – oh my word.
- I love interviewing the East Nasty of the Week each Wednesday night.  I’m practically Barbara Walters.
- If I were a man, I’m pretty sure I would grow a beard.
- I’m really sad for Natasha Richardson’s family.
- Last week, I found a watercolor of an owl that I made when I was 6.  It is RAD.  I framed it and hung it over my bed.  Not to toot my own horn, but I was like a young Picasso.  Toot, toot.
- For some reason, no one reads my blog on Thursdays.  It is very strange.  Readership plummets on Thursday every single week.
- A kick in the ass is a step forward.
- It is noon, and time to get dressed.

Welcome to my new little corner of the cyber-sky!

For those of you who are wondering, “How did Annie get her own website?” I must be honest and say I HAVE NO IDEA. When it comes to technology, I operate on a need-to-know basis – I surround myself with people who are only going to tell me what I need to know, and not another word.

Bless you, you geniuses.

To get this site up and running, I am indebted to:

- Lauren at WebExHosting, who spent hours creating this site, hauling over all of my blog archives, and making my dreams come true. She is my Web Fairy Godmother. Bibbity-bobbity-boo.
- Seth, my graphic designer friend with the best head of hair of any guy I know. He helped me with the masthead in exchange for a double batch of Monster Cookies.
- Ashley, my ultra-talented sister-in-law, for capturing my fabulous chair (and me!) in that sunny Kansas field.
- Emily, the closest thing I have to a little sister besides my little sisters, who designed the sweet paisley logo.
- God, for creating the internet.

So look around, and let me know what you think. Things might get tweaked here and there early on, but overall, I think it’s quite “Annie Parsons,” don’t you? Look at the top of the page – TABS! And come back all the time. You can find me here Monday through Friday, steady as the sun.

Celebrate good times, come on.

Last night, Mel asked me, “How do you decide what to blog about?” And after thinking for a second, I said, “Well, I just sit quietly each morning and ask, ‘What do I have to say today?’ And then I write it down.”

Some mornings, this is easy – my life is full of funny anecdotes, witty words, cheerful hope. Other days, I have a heavier burden weighing on my chest, and writing about it can be both challenging and therapeutic. Sometimes, it’s just the letter X – and it is my self-declared duty to figure out some direction to take it.

But today, all is quiet. The phone isn’t ringing, and I haven’t received any urgent emails. It’s kind of cold in the lobby here at work, so I’m wrapped in my green coat and thinking about microwaving some water to make hot tea. The mechanical pencil that I keep in my planner has a rubber grip on it, and it’s “sweating” some sort of oil onto my calendar pages – this bothers me. My hair is freshly dyed, dark and silky, and yet it doesn’t cover up my desperate need for a haircut. In a few minutes, I will balance my checkbook, like I do every day. I have eaten approximately 12 Altoids, and now I am chewing a piece of gum. Men will never comprehend the injustice of pantyhose. I think of the nightmare that I had last night, and the nightmare that I had a few weeks ago. I think of when I was younger and we had rabbits in hutches in the backyard. I think of my friend who threw up her breakfast this morning, and my friend who is officially in love, and my friend who is becoming less and less of a friend. My heart aches for the Townes.

What do I have to say today?

So much. So little. If only I knew.

You know how kids are always told to never touch a power line?

How do the birds live?

This was my “maundering pondering” of the morning, as I drove to the airport to fetch Becca. Little Sister is visiting for the weekend; unfortunately, I am at work today, for temping takes no holiday – even on a Nashville-wide “snow day.”

Honestly, people. I saw nary a flake.

But I am happy for my friends of the matriculated variety, who have found themselves with a day void of responsibilities. I am rounding them up, along with my unemployed (okay, SELF-employed) pals, for a lunchtime rendezvous at the Panera near my office on West End.

That’s right, blog stalkers. You know where to find me come 12:20. I’ll be surrounded by my posse, though, so you might have a hard time breaking through the entourage.

In other news, I will be cross-posting on my friend Mark’s running blog with a featured “East Nasty of the Week” write-up. If you are not a Nashvillian or my mother, you’re probably not interested. But if you DO live here in Music City, and want to train for the half-marathon happening in April, the East Nasties are the coolest runners in the city.

But since I’m always last, I don’t know if I count as one of them yet…

Happy weekend to all. Becca and I are ready to show Nashville no mercy. Stay tuned for a full report… and maybe even a video blog?? I know: you expect nothing less.

Sometimes I wonder if this blog gets the best of me – the best of my creativity, the best of my concentration, the best of my time and efforts. I have been posting nearly every day for a long time now, and I have occasionally greeted the computer screen with nothing to say, and after wracking my brain, have come up with something banal at best. No one should have to read about the weather (even though I write about it), what I’m doing at my desk (even though I show you), or what I dreamed about the night before (even though… no, never mind, still not interesting).

I recently told my mom that I am consciously making the decision to not feel guilty about my lack of prolificacy when it comes to songwriting – there is enough that I already feel an unnecessary amount of guilt about in my life, so why add to the heap? Unlike many Nashville songwriters, I write simply when something hits me – it could be weekly, it could be monthly, it could be seasonally. Writing this way might never make me any money, and might not lead to a “career” as a songwriter, but I think it will lead to an overall enjoyment of the craft.

The same needs to go for this site. My routine of posting every morning, Monday through Friday, has been a good practice in writing for me. But I need to not feel guilty if I don’t have something to say, something to post. Before I can produce, I need to consume – through reading, and thinking, and observing, and mulling things over. I need to interact with people (real humans), and go running, and listen, and nest, and camp in the rain (this Friday night’s event, God help me). I need to spend time living in order to find things to write about.

So in the coming days and weeks, I might not post as regularly. Or maybe I will – I don’t know. I suppose I’m just giving myself permission to let the thoughts ebb and flow, and to hold off until the light goes on.

Or to wait until I get a text message like the one I got this morning:

“Today I get to eat gator-on-a-stick and see the smallest girl in the world. Jealous?”

Because THAT is something worth sharing.

The word “sigh”
What about the combination of the letters S-I-G-H makes people think of the actual act of sighing? When I sigh, I don’t say “Siiiiiiigh.” I don’t understand. I am perplexed.

“Dilemma” vs. “dilemna”
A few years ago, my dad asked me how I spelled the word “dilemma.”

“D-I-L-E-M-M-A.”

He and my mom looked at each other flabbergasted, shaking their heads, saying, “No! It is not a double M! It has an N: D-I-L-E-M-N-A.” Dilemna. Really? A silent N? Both of my parents agreed that as children, this was the way they had learned to spell the word – although I have yet to find a dictionary or source that validates or explains historically the “mn” spelling.

A quick internet investigation proved that my parents are not delusional (even though we Parsons kids definitely accused them of being such) – it seems as if an entire generation was taught to spell this word in a way that is no longer recognized as legitimate. Why? If it works for “solemn” or “condemn,” why not “dilemna”?

Computer storage
I have no idea what a KB or an MB or a GB is. I don’t know what’s the biggest. I don’t know how much space I have left on my Macbook, and I don’t know how to check. I don’t know how to conserve room. I don’t know what to get rid of. I have no concept of how big a Word document or a picture or an mp3 is. I might be ready to explode, but I won’t know until it’s too late. The same is true when it comes to guacamole.

Buy one get one free
Why can’t I just… get one free?

But one thing I DO understand:
It’s raining! Its raaaaaaaiiining in Nashville!!! Let’s sing the “Doxology.”

Last night marked the first of 5 shows at the Bluebird that I am attending in a 2-week span. I saw one of my heroes, Lori McKenna – and among others, she performed this song. The bridge gets me every single time. She has such an economy with words – how can someone write so devastatingly?

I have missed every single speech of the Democratic National Convention thus far, and have some catching up to do via the internet. In the meantime, I think that Greta has some amazingly insightful words about the upcoming election. But in case you’re wondering: no, I don’t really want to talk about politics. Not today. Thanks for asking, though.

It’s hard to believe that the time has come, but Micah started preschool this week. If you’re ready to see some of the most achingly adorable pictures of your life, look at my nephews. I am a proud auntie, and can’t wait to see them again when I head to Kansas City in October.

If you want to laugh (of course you do!), please watch this, and this, and this (why does this one never get old?).

My long weekend will be spent in Nashville, but surprisingly, it is filled to capacity. I wish that I was driving to Hilton Head, or flying to Seattle, but instead, I’m making a little extra money hanging out with the German Shepherds again. Maybe I’ll blog over the weekend. Maybe not. One thing is for sure: even though there’s no work, I still have to blog on Monday, because F is for…?