Hey, Annie.
Oh hey there.

What did you not do last night?
I did not attend a… seminar? a workshop?… called “7 Ways to Choke a Man Unconscious.”

What??!?  Who invited you to such a thing?
My friend Mike.  You know him, you love him.

Well, it’s really too bad that you didn’t go.
I know.

What on earth made you pass up such an incredible opportunity?
Well, I had to go running.

That’s not a very good excuse.
YOU’RE TELLING ME.

I hope you at least made it a good run.
I ran 4.8 miles – I’m starting to train for another half-marathon.

Which one?
I’m signed up for the Seattle Half, which is happening the Sunday after Thanksgiving.

Wonderful.
Yep.

[silence]

So… what else did you do this weekend?
Well, I drove very far – 1,300 miles.

That is insanity.
Maybe.

Did you have company?
Yes – my mom was with me on Saturday.  And the Toad was with me the whole time.  Still is, in fact.

Where are you?
I’m in Portland.

With the Toad?
Yes.  She’s a good travel buddy.

I still can’t believe you didn’t go to the choking class.
You and me both.

Next week, my mom is moving to Kansas City.  While this is definitely a good decision for her, selfishly, it’s hard on my heart.  I moved to Colorado to be closer to my parents, and starting next week, neither of them will live here anymore.  This brings up all sorts of questions and emotions for me, but I’ve learned enough to know that none of these need to be discussed in a public forum.

Sorry, voyeurs.

Instead, let’s talk about the things that I have inherited from her house in the move.

The most important thing is Kodi the 3-legged dog.  Yes, our little raisin-eyed tripod, the Toad, now lives with Becca and Greebs and me on Hooker Street.  My days of zero responsibility are now a thing of the past, as Becca and I are constantly shuffling dog duties (not to be confused with dog doodies – although, yes, sad to say that those are being shuffled, too).

She is adorable as always, though – and even though I’m now much more tethered to home, and even though she doesn’t really fit into my active lifestyle (she can walk about a quarter of a mile before she’s spent), it’s nice to have someone who’s always happy to see me.

We’ve also laid claim to some killer patio furniture.  Last week, I told my friend Kelli that it was made of cast iron.  “You mean wrought iron,” she stated more than asked.  I was like, “Yeah.”

Now, we don’t exactly live on a picturesque block.  We have a dirty weed yard, and some local dogs peed on my basil and mint plants until they were dead.  The next-door neighbor’s mutt killed a skunk in their front yard, and the carcass rotted in the hot sun for two weeks.  I’m not sure if mere patio furniture is going to, I don’t know, redeem the neighborhood – but it’s sure as hell going to try.

Come over.  I’ll mix you a ghetto cocktail.

Finally, all of the things that have hidden in Mom’s pantry?  For years?  And years?  Mine.

If you know me at all, you know that I cannot waste food.  I just can’t do it.  If food dies, I die.  It’s this deep, fundamental part of my soul.  You think I’m kidding – but I assure you, I kid thee not.  I’m the girl who packs a food box in her suitcase on long trips, just sick at the thought of leaving food behind to rot in the fridge – a waste of my money, a waste of someone’s labor, a waste of, I don’t know, a cow.

I will avenge your death, cow.

Anyway, I now have more canned goods, spices, and non-perishables than I know what to do with.  Apple butter?  Kidney beans?  Chicken stock?  Red chile marmalade?  Canned meat?  Jars of chutney?  Two gigantic canisters of Pam?  If you have ideas for how I can put this stuff to good use, do tell.

As you learned in last Friday’s video, I now live with my sister Becca in the Hooker House.  Get used to it – I have a feeling that Life on Hooker Street will become a popular subject on this blog.

Aside from time time spent under our parent’s roof, this is the first time that Becca and I have lived together.  She is 3 1/2 years younger, half my weight* and twice my sarcasm.

Becca has a dog, and she’s pretty much obsessed with him.  His name is Gabe, but “The Greebs” is the moniker that’s stuck.  So obviously, I now live with the Greebs, too.

Are you curious about these two new roommates of mine?  Here.  I’ll show you.

And in case you forgot, here is me.

So, yes.  This could be interesting.  ACKNOWLEDGED.

But so far, it’s been fun.

I’m teaching Becca things like “you have to rinse your plastic soup container before you put it in the recycling bin.”  And she’s teaching me things like “this isn’t Auschwitz.”

For all he sheds, and despite the fact that he ate one of my books, the Greebs is kind of becoming my best bud.  On hot days, I walk him the half-mile to Sloan’s Lake where he can swim.  And on the days when I work from home, he never leaves my side.  I talk to him in my voice reserved for dogs (admit it: you have a “dog voice,” too), and when I grab his leash and say, “You wanna go?” he jumps in the air like a kangaroo.

In the midst of so much upheaval and transition in our family, I am thankful for a sister to share a home with.  And despite our differences (which are many), there is a comfort in knowing that at the end of the day, I’m not alone.

Even if it means that my couch – and floor – and car – and clothes – are covered in dog hair.

*Not really.  But basically.

I promise to not make this blog into one never-ending series called “What I’m Reading – and So Should You!”  But – sue me, people – I’m reading a lot right now.  And unless you want to hear about my dream last night (I killed a wild hog), then thank your lucky stars that it’s a post about a book.

At the suggestion of my cutie friend Carrie Cohen (SHOUT OUT), I’m currently reading “The Art of Racing in the Rain,” by Garth Stein.  The narrator (who happens to be a dog – stay with me) gives an account of the family that he lives with, all the while waxing poetic about life, philosophy, and race car driving – which he has learned a great deal about from his master.  Maybe it’s a silly idea, allowing a dog to narrate, but so far, it’s a fun shift of perspective.

Here’s one of my favorite passages – and yes, this is the dog thinking:

“The true hero is flawed.  The true test of a champion is not whether he can triumph, but whether he can overcome obstacles – preferably of his own making – in order to triumph.  A hero without a flaw is of no interest to an audience or to the universe, which, after all, is based on conflict and opposition, the irresistible force meeting the unmovable object.  Which is also why Michael Schumacher, clearly one of the most gifted Formula One drivers of all time, winner of more races, winner of more championships, holder of more pole positions than any other driver in Formula One history, is often left off of the race fan’s list of favorite champions.  He is unlike Ayrton Senna, who often employed the same devious and daring tactics as Schumacher, but did so with a wink and therefore was called charismatic and emotional rather than what they call Schumacher: remote and unapproachable.  Schumacher has no flaws.  He has the best car, the best-financed team, the best tires, the most skill.  Who can rejoice in his wins?  The sun rises every day.  What is to love?  Lock the sun in a box.  Force the sun to overcome adversity in order to rise.  Then we will cheer!”

Hilarious that Stein attributes thoughts like these to a mere mongrel of a dog – but also, a little bit poignant.  Because if we’re honest, even – and maybe especially – in our simplest moments, don’t we feel the exact same way?

Perfection is boring – and so it’s interesting to me that we often expect the people around us to be perfect.  Why do we insist on something other than just real life with others?  If we’re honest, wouldn’t we rather experience someone’s flaws – with the hope and expectation that they just might triumph over their shortcomings?  Wouldn’t we love to be a part of that?

Wouldn’t we love for others to give us that chance?

Wouldn’t we love to give ourselves that chance?

Since our last rendezvous, some things have happened.

1) BOOKS
When it comes to books these days, I am insatiable.

I absolutely devoured “The Hunger Games.”  This series is all the rage, and I know that a lot of you have read them.  No spoilers here, except to say that I have not enjoyed a story so much in years.  For the 8 days it took me to read all three volumes, I was nothing short of obsessed.

Just before “The Hunger Games,” I read “The Help.”  Loved it.  And I typically don’t feel this way after reading a grew book, but I’m so glad they’re making a movie, too.  When you love characters so much, you can’t help but want to see them in action.

Now, I’m reading “Ape House” by Sara Gruen, author of “Water for Elephants” (which I loved).  I’m about halfway through, and it’s so luxurious to have a book that you can’t wait to read every night.

To this day, I am the only person I know who has read “Beatrice and Virgil.”  If anyone out there has read it and wants to help a soul feel better about life, will you please tell me?  I can’t be alone with the burden of this book any longer.

2) DETROIT
I spent this past weekend in Detroit with newlyweds Matt & Julie.  Never you mind that they’ve only been married for three weeks – when they found out I was going through a hard time, they called and told me to come.  A few days later, I was there – and it was exactly what my heart needed.

What a gift to have friends who remind you of what is true about yourself, and to help you remember that it’s not really all about you anyway.

3) TOAD
The vet amputated the Toad’s leg.

Oh yes.  I guess have not mentioned it here yet, but a week ago today, our sweet dog Kodi (remember her?) was diagnosed with bone cancer.  Amputation was the best form of pain management.  So on Friday, the doctor CUT OFF HER LEG.

I swear, medicine these days.

She’s home now, and wearing a t-shirt to help protect the most gnarly incision I’ve ever seen.  She will never high-five again (sad joke).

But this little bear cub is amazingly resilient, and wagging her tail as much as ever.

My sister Becca is a great gift-giver.  She puts a lot of time and thought and effort into the things that she gives people – and this past Christmas was no exception.

In addition to our “real” presents, she made everyone in our family an awesome dog portrait.  Weird?  NOT IF YOU’RE A PARSONS.

Becca knows that I like those dogs with floppy hair that falls into their eyes, so she made me this:

Isn’t that amazing?  I love it so much.  He’s my imaginary dog – the one that doesn’t care if I leave town for the weekend, or if I don’t come home for 12 hours straight, or if I don’t feed him.  He’s the best.

I think Becca should start a pet portrait business.  All in favor, say aye.

Just a few things I would like to mention…

Toad’s haircut

Remember Toad?

SHE GOT HER SUMMER HAIRCUT!

She’s still the happiest little Piggy Toad on the planet.

Speaking of “Toad”

I saw this dead, flattened frog in the parking lot at work.  I took a picture of it.  I don’t know why.

The fact that I noticed this, photographed it, and am now broadcasting it to the whole wide world all of a sudden makes me feel all kinds of awkward.

“Glass & Wood”

Allie writes such good words.

There are some things I need to let go of – the broken AND the good.

I’m trying.

Jon licks the wound

I used to believe Heather B. Armstrong to be the funniest person on the internet.

But then Jon went and licked the wound.

And just like that, the queen was dethroned.

(I know – this was almost a year ago.  But I still think about it all the time, and still LOL out loud.  It goes like this: LOLOL.)

Mark and John are here!

Also, Bruce!  But he wasn’t in the picture.

These men are the greatest.  Seriously.  They’re totally a big deal, but they still treat me like I’M the big deal – even though my hair looked COMPLETELY FLAT on top.  Horizontal.  Kansan.  I could balance an egg on that noggin.  Someone get this girl a teasing comb, stat.

And last, but most certainly not least…

I am signed up for a seminar tonight called Sex, Lies, and Rattlesnakes.  This is my own special way of “getting out there” – so don’t judge me, people.  I might wind up sucking the poisonous snake venom from your leg someday.

Monday was a paid holiday, and I am taking tomorrow and Friday off.  That makes this a 2 day work week, and today my Friday.  Amen.

I’m not very good at “vacation.”  I travel a lot, and use every minute of the (very generous) vacation time that I am given – but I never take the time to just relax.  Relaxing makes me feel lazy – I’m too task-oriented and high-strung to relax*.  If I take time off, it is usually because I am flying to a wedding, or hitting the proverbial road, or spending a busy long weekend with friends – or, in the case of this week, climbing mountains and screaming at total strangers.

Let’s start with the first thing: climbing mountains.  Over the weekend, I absolutely destroyed the knuckles on my left hand.  How do I always wind up with bloody knuckles?  I mean, honestly – am I a Neanderthal, dragging my hands on the gravel behind me?  I never remember scraping them – I just look down and realize, “Oh, there are my bones.”  “Oh, there is blood.”  And then I spend the next 10 days breaking open the scabs every time I bend my fingers.

Type type type.  This is a sacrifice.

We’ll see if the weather allows for me to climb two 14ers in the next couple of days.

As for the screaming at total strangers, well – when two pit bulls attacked my dear old dog Rowdy, snarling and growling and biting, and their owner made no move to stop them, it felt like a fair trade.  Your dog snaps, I snap.

Obscenities were screamed (yes, the worst of the bad words), as well as a threat to call the police.  It was out of control.  I was out of control.

Maybe I need a vacation after all.

*I need** an intervention.  Seriously.  I don’t think I will ever relax unless someone hog-ties me and forces me to.

**You know what ELSE I need?   Seven fillings.  I went to the dentist and they found SEVEN cavities.  I have excellent dental hygiene, and haven’t had a cavity in 10 years.  What is going ON?  It’s going to be a 4-hour torture session (not to mention a hefty wad of cash) to get these bad boys taken care of.

Gah, I say.  GAH.

My parents have three dogs, Rowdy, Maci, and Kodi.

Kodi is the cutest.  That’s not favoritism – it’s just fact.  I mean, look at her happy dog perma-grin:

Her name is Kodi, but mostly we call her Toad.  She’s this ridiculous, squatty little Chow mix, with short legs and a barrel chest.  She has so much fur, she looks like a tank – but in the summers, my parents have her shaved to keep her cool.  And then, she looks like a little pig.

The best thing about Toad is that her tail is always wagging, no matter what.  She wags when she sees you, she wags when she’s looking out the window, she wags when she’s all alone in the backyard, she wags when she gets fed, she wags when she’s lying on the living room floor, she wags when she hears voices – even if they’re not talking to her.  The only time that she didn’t wag was when she was entered in a tail-wagging contest at the Puppy Parade – then she stood stone still.

The remarkable thing is that Toad has bone spurs on her spine that keep her in a constant state of discomfort.  She has trouble sitting from a standing position, or standing from a sitting position.  She is stiff and awkward.  She is in pain.

But she wags anyway.

I want to be like Toad.

I want to wag anyway – even when nobody’s looking and I’m all alone.

I am currently dog-sitting for a delightful dog named Shelby.  She jumps the fence and eats band-aids out of the trash can, but I like her anyway.  Yesterday morning, I took her to the dog park to let her run, and she immediately befriended a greyhound.  She chased it around, but unfortunately, did not have the capacity to understand that she was chasing a GREYHOUND, so she never quite caught up.

Shelby has no idea that she’s just a little mutt.

Sometimes, I wish that I didn’t know my limitations – that I felt free to run as hard and fast as I can, giving no thought to my deficiencies or how I stack up against others – just completely at rest with who I am.

I should take a lesson from the little mongrel.

- – - – - – - -

And now, tidbits worth mentioning but not really worth blogging about:

1) People, the weather.  My stars.  Last year, this didn’t happen until October 2 – but I am thrilled to report that this year, the change happened a few days early.

2) I have never seen anything so magical.  Is this too good to be true? Because I am coveting like you would not believe.

3) I finished my EP.  I’m listening to it right now on my headphones!  This IS worth blogging about, just not yet.  Stay tuned – I cannot wait for you to hear it.

4) And I know that you’ve been on the edge of your seat all weekend, so: no, I still have not barfed since I was 14.  Don’t you worry your pretty little head for one tiny second.  All better.  Back at work.  Just caused a coffee flood in the kitchen.

Everything is back to normal.