There are a lot of days that I don’t feel like blogging.  You would think that with my complete absence of a social life in a city where I am totally anonymous, I would have all the time in the world to come up with universe tilting posts - but no.  Sometimes life is just quiet.

Snow is on the ground, and my couch is finally being delivered this morning.  I’m spending the weekend in Colorado Springs with my parents.  Mom just finished infusions for round 3 of chemo, which means she’s over half-way done.  The snow might interfere with my long run this weekend.  Work is busy.  I spend most of my free time alone, and can usually go from the minute I leave the office until arriving back the next morning without saying a word to anyone.  I go to the gym every night.  I still don’t have the runner’s booty.  I watched “The Hurt Locker” and had dreams about bombs.  I’ve gotten some wonderful Real Mail recently, and sent some back.  Denver continues to wrap me up.

So many of my beloved extroverted friends would come unhinged if this was their reality.  Thankfully, there is grace enough - and I, introverted Annie, don’t mind it.  Life feels strange and restrained, but not in a bad way.  Maybe one day I’m going to get lonely - but that day is not today.  Until it is, I’m going to just keep walking forward.

This all might sound so simple and dull, but it felt nice to write it.  It’s what I’m living.  I’m grateful.

It’s been awhile since I’ve talked about my feeeeeelings.  For those of you wishing to keep a finger on the pulse of my emotional health, this one’s for you.

I remember around this time two years ago, soon after I had moved to Nashville, feeling lonely and afraid and sad.

This move could not be more different.

Not much scares me these days.  I don’t know why this is, why this time I feel so much more stable and confident - maybe because my reasons for moving are different than what they were two years ago.  Maybe because of what I experienced in my time in Nashville.  Maybe because I’m just a little bit older.

Nashville was an amazing two years - but it was loud, and it was painful.  I will never be sorry for the time that I spent there, but to be honest, it felt like being put through a cheese grater.  A big part of me died while I was there.  I was stripped of a lot of things: dreams, expectations, confidence, even truth.

A lot of times, I forgot what I know to be true.

This past month has been quiet and understated - a welcome change from the chaos of my life for the past two years.  I miss my friends in Tennessee, and start to feel a bit left out when I think of their lives going on together and without me (because how could they possibly live without me?), but most of the time, I feel calm.  My heart feels still.

I have no idea and no expectations for what this season in life will be or bring about.  But I am seeing glimmers of revival in the parts of my heart that I thought were dead and gone.  It feels foreign, but it feels like hope.

The Colorado air is dry.

This parched feeling is all-pervasive, making itself known in every part of my body.  My skin is the Sahara, my eyeballs, sandpaper.  I smile, and my bottom lip splits like the back of Chris Farley’s coat.  My hands are cracking, my cuticles flaking.  I cannot drink enough water.

Short from slathering myself with lard, there’s not much I can do about it.  Still, I will take dry over humid any day.

Denver is incredibly sunny - over 300 days a year of sunshine.  Right now, even though it’s 16 degrees outside, the light is intense.  Seattle being my one true love, this brightness is an adjustment for me.   My eyes are wimpy and require sunglasses basically all the time.  I’m wearing sunscreen like it’s my job; being a mile closer to the sun than I was before, I walk down the block and come back pink.  I need to get a hat - I’m sensitive, folks.  Even my lips are freckled.

I am suspicious that every person I see out and about is an Olympic athlete.  Denver is a ridiculously active city - even more than Seattle, it seems.  Everyone looks young and healthy and fit and strong.

And having run 7.6 miles at a Mile High altitude yesterday morning, I dare say that I fit right in.

Speaking of health, on Friday night, I got a bee in my bonnet.  And after a 2-hour wait at the very fabulous Root Down, I GOT MY BEET SALAD THANKYOUVERYMUCH.

It was not nearly as good as Fuel’s.  But the cheese plate and wine made up for it.

So… scratch that thing I said about “health.”

It’s 10am, and I’m at my kitchen table drinking coffee in my pajamas.  Julie is still asleep - I can’t blame her, she drove 1,200 miles to get here.  We had dinner with joeljoeljoel (SHOUT OUT) at the Cherry Cricket last night - have I mentioned that Denver is a destination?  Since I moved here 3 weeks ago, I’ve met up with at least 5 out-of-town friends who have just randomly been in my new city.

That is an invitation, by the way.

Because Julie is here, I’m taking today off of work to go explore the city a bit.  The plan is to walk to the downtown public library (because I drive past it every day, and it is gorgeous), maybe stroll through the Denver Art Museum, hoof it to REI, and the whole time, keep our eyes out for a place to have dinner tonight.

Tomorrow, we’ll head to Colorado Springs to be with my mom and our friend Lisa, and on Sunday morning, we’ll go on a long run.

I am so thankful for easy, low-maintenance friends.  Julie doesn’t care that I don’t have a couch or a TV, or that we went to bed before 11 last night.  We can’t be exciting all the time - and the ones who know this about us and honestly don’t care?  They are keepers.

A childhood friend from my hometown of Montrose, CO, is being featured on Tom Brokaw’s documentary, “American Character Along Highway 50,” which airs tonight at 8/7c on the USA Network.  Watching Jeff’s clip reminds me of just how beautiful western Colorado is - one of those things that I didn’t appreciate until I moved away.  If you can, tune in; I’ve watched some of the teaser videos, and it looks fascinating.

Also, Tom Brokaw… who doesn’t love Tom Brokaw??

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I hate it when people just write recaps of “what I did this weekend” - because BOOOORING - but I’m sorry, this was a great weekend.  Why, pray tell?  Well…

- I spent Friday night at a private party for the PBR - the bull riders, not the beer - and Pat Green winked at me from onstage.
- My dad came over on Saturday morning and helped me hang up my curtain rods and do all sorts of other “dad” things.
- I sold my couch on Craigslist for $15 more than what I paid for it…
- … so I bought these towels (please don’t look at the price, it’s embarrassing).
- I went on a long run (7.3 miles at a mile high - not too shabby).
- I had Thai food with two new friends, Karmen and Scotty - and they’re really great!  Finding good people in a new city is an amazing thing.
- Duane was the East Nasty of the Week.
- One of my best friends from high school who lives in the Denver area had her first baby - welcome, Noelle Elizabeth!
- I went on a 6-mile walk around the city.
- I drove the hour down to my parents’ last night.

I don’t know, it was just a really great weekend.  Productive without being work, fun without being exhausting.  So far, this move has been surprisingly okay.

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.

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.

Tomorrow is a new year, a fresh start, a clean slate.

I like markers.  I like new beginnings.  I like boundaries that separate “this” from “that.”  It gives me a sense of control, however misperceived.

2010 is a year of starting over, in almost every way that I possibly could – even in ways that I didn’t ask for and don’t want to.  New city.  New home.  New people.  The “new people” part is the part I really don’t like – I’ll be honest, I don’t really want any new people.  I like the people that I already have, thankyouverymuch.

But I think back to 2 years ago when I moved to Nashville, and I could not believe that I had left Seattle.  I spent the first 6 months with one foot still in the Northwest, convincing myself that the relocation was temporary, and that I would be returning sooner rather than later.  I tried to freeze my long-distance friendships – like frogs under the ice, just biding time until the waters thawed and they could once again swim freely.

But that day never came.

And you know what?  I’m glad.

I exchanged something very good in Seattle for what turned out to be something very good in Nashville.  Incredible friends.  Amazing experiences.  Growth and challenges and hilarity and LIFE.  I would not trade my two years in Nashville for anything I once had in Seattle – not because it was better than what I had in Seattle, but because I have now experienced it, and it’s mine.

You can’t give back what is now yours.  I wouldn’t want to.  Not even the hard stuff.

So as I head up to Denver today to get the keys to my new apartment, and I wait for my furniture to be delivered next week, and I start working in the office on Monday, and I drive around this massive urban sprawl that seems so foreign and gigantic, I want to be present.  I will leave my heart wide open to the people in front of me – not forsaking my far-flung, beloved friends, but hopefully, gracefully, allowing those relationships to change.  This is the only way to truly live.

Even though I didn’t really ask for it, I chose it, and I CHOOSE it.  I’m excited for what Denver might hold.

But, um, friends?  Please come visit me in 2010.  I miss you already.