You know my friend Annie Downs?

Of course you do.  She is famous in the blog world, famous in Nashville, famous in my heart, and now, famous in honest-to-goodness book print.

When I first met Annie several years ago, she was in the beginning stages of writing a book.  She wrote and wrote and wrote, more words than I have ever strung together.  She poured her heart and her time and her stories into this book – and now it’s finally ready for you to read.

Anyone who knows Annie in real life knows that she’s the greatest to hang around.  She is honest and funny and loves people like she means it.  She draws people in like a moth to the flame – except in the end, the moth doesn’t burn to death, so it’s actually not like a moth to the flame at all.  It’s more like cartoon birds and chipmunks being drawn to Cinderella’s song, or me being drawn to men with scruff.  (Please note that Annie Downs does not have scruff.)

Here’s the crazy thing: so much of the good that is Annie translates directly over to the way that she writes.  I’m only a few chapters into this book, and reading it feels like we’re sitting across the table from each other, hashing out the good, the bad, and the ugly.  The girl is gifted.

For those of you who can’t get enough of her hysterical, heart-felt blog, you will definitely want to grab a copy of “From Head To Foot.”  It’s geared toward young women – and chances are that you either are a young woman or you know a young woman, so order one or five or enough for all of the high schoolers at your church.

It’s a really cool thing to watch a friend’s dream come true.  Annie Downs is doing one of the many things that she’s meant to do – writing good, truthful, life-giving words, and sharing them with others.  It’s a big deal.  It’s a great story.  I’m so proud to call her my friend.

I’ve heard it said that to start anything requires a certain willing suspension of disbelief.  You have to allow yourself, on some level, to dare to hope – even in the face of potential disappointment or failure or heartbreak.

What a scary place to live.  There is no guaranteed win.  But thankfully, as a sweet friend recently reminded me, “winning” is not the point.

We might not be fearless, but it doesn’t mean that we can’t be brave.

I want a heart that’s rolled open like a welcome mat.  I’m working on it.

I’ve been doing some thinking.  I’ve been crunching some numbers.

To accomplish Tuesday’s boldly declared goal, I would have to walk 10.6 miles a day, every day, for the next 94 days.  And seeing as how I have walked 0 miles since Monday, I’m thinking that 1,000 before Labor Day may have been a WEE bit overly ambitious.

Oh well – I am still going to walk.  I will walk until kingdom come.  And mark my words: I WILL climb at least 6 14ers this summer.  That, gentlefolk, is money in the bank.

- – - – - – - -

A few years ago, I saw Rosie O’Donnell on one of the morning news shows – you know, when I still had a TV and Rosie still had the media’s love and devotion.  The interviewer asked her if she could go back and tell her younger self one thing, what would it be?

I’ll never forget Rosie’s response.  She said, “I would tell myself that everything is going to happen, just like you dreamed – it’s just going to feel differently than what you expected.”

I don’t know why, but I’m kind of experiencing some of that right now.

Last night I had a dream that Kenny Chesney and a completely bald Keith Urban wanted to hang out with me.  Actually, to be specific, Kenny asked if he could drive my car, and I was like, “CAN YOU EVER” – which is weird because I generally distrust men in necklaces.

So Kenny, Keith, and I loaded into the old Honda, and I insisted on sitting in between them, which was very awkward because that put me in between the bucket seats and on top of the emergency break.  But we were cruising along, and at one point, I said, “Guys, you know that we’re going to have to take a picture – because no one is ever going to believe me.”  They both laughed reluctantly, like, “Yeah, sure,” but I could tell that they didn’t really want anyone to know that they had spent any time with me.  They were just using me for my car.

I moved to Nashville because I am a songwriter.  But truth be told, at the time that I moved, I could count the number of songs I had actually written on one hand.  More “brooding” than “brilliant,” I was never one of those children who composed music at age 6.  The decision to write was just that: a decision… that I made when I was 23.

Then I moved to Nashville, the songwriting Mecca of America.  I had nothing to go on except a hunch that words and music and expression made up a very important sliver of my heart, and that I had a passion and desire to get better at piecing them together.

In the last two years, I’ve been learning a tiny bit of what it means to write.  It’s been scary – to admit to myself that I might have something worth sharing, and to open myself up to the possibility of looking like a total loser.  I have felt both in equal measure – because nothing says I’M ANNIE PARSONS! like emotional highs and lows.

But here I am – a completed EP in hand.  Words and music by… me.  Songs that, I believe, stand on their own – and brought to life by my dear friend and producer Joshua Stevens.  They’re a small offering, but they’re mine – and I can’t wait for you to hear them.

Check back on Monday to order your copy of my EP, “Wish That I Was”!

Almost 3 years ago, through the wonders of the internet, I blog-met (it’s a thing, people) a girl named Marijke.  “Muh-RIJ-key?” I wondered.  No.  “Muh-RY-kuh.”  Like “Mariah” with a k.

A fellow blogger, fellow songwriter, fellow dreamer, Marijke has been living in Anchorage, Alaska, for several years.  She has had a steady job, but music is where her heart is – and about a year ago, she came to Nashville to check out the scene.  In what is becoming a regular occurrence in my life, we met face-to-face for the first time when she showed up on my doorstep.*  We spent a weekend exploring the city, hearing live music, and talking about life.  She is a kindred spirit, for sure.

And now, in a brave and gutsy move, Marijke is about to move from Alaska to Texas to pursue music – talk about a change of scenery.

Today, she is releasing a CD.  And from the previews that I’ve heard, this is a GREAT album.  Her voice is pure, her lyrics honest and truthful, and the instrumentation so well done (good job, Jon!  Jon showed up on my doorstep one time, too*).

Would you support her by ordering a copy?  For only $10, you’ll play a part in helping make my friend’s dream possible, as well as get an awesome, quality product.  I’ve ordered it – and I wish that I could be at her release show tonight.  If you live in Anchorage, YOU SHOULD GO!

Thanks, Marijke, for reminding me what it means to live boldly.

- – - – - – - -

*Happening again tonight when Joey and Sam show up!  YES!  Best blog friends forever!

Last night, I had a horrific nightmare that I walked into the bathroom and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror – and my lips had a hard extra layer on them, almost black, like an avocado rind.  I had to peel them off – two big lip-shaped pieces – to get back to my normal pink smackers.

It wasn’t as bad as the time I dreamed that I…

You know what, I can’t even say it.  If I wrote what happened in this dream, I can guarantee that no one would ever come back to this blog again.  Some images get burned into the brain forever – and as much as I wish for someone to bear this burden with me, I won’t do it to you.  I will martyr myself on the altar of nightmares for your sake.

Don’t say I never did anything for you.

But seriously – what is going on here?  WHY am I having these horrible dreams?  I don’t watch horror movies.  I’ve never witnessed true atrocities.  And yet, I go to sleep, and am transported to being the central figure in an episode of “Rescue 911.”  The freakshow edition.

Maybe I’m spending too much time alone.

If left to my own devices, I would hang out by myself all the time.

No, really.  All the time.

For the past 6 months or so, I have spent most of my free time alone.  As an introvert, time to recharge is important – but when does it become too much?  When does the self-care become selfish? When does the coddling result in an inadvertent snapped neck?

See.  NIGHTMARE.

Last night, I dreamed that I was driving a logging truck in an ice storm – storms aside, I am fairly certain that truck-driving would be my ideal vocation.  When I finally arrived home in Montrose, Colorado, safe and sound, someone knocked on my door.  I opened it to find a man standing in the swirling snow; he told me that he built his own boat, and he really thought I should come see it.

“But – I’m not wearing any makeup!” I protested.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“But – I don’t have any shoes!” I challenged.

“That’s okay – I brought you these.”  He pulled out high-heeled leather boots, lined with sheep’s wool.  They were his mother’s.  They were size 6 ½.

He won me over.  What can I say – it doesn’t take much.

- – - – - – - -

This week, I promise to write about the following things:
-    “Friday Night Lights”
-    My 10-year high school reunion
-    How a doorknob reminded me that God loves me

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.

Behold, the return of the deadbeat blogger!

I mean, seriously.  It’s embarrassing.  I have been like an unfit mother – one who leaves her kids in the car while she hits up the Safeway for PBR and tampons.  I have abandoned this blog in the parking lot for far too many days – and in the meantime, not written a single word of ANYTHING.

But really, can you blame me?  I was busy fulfilling MY LIFE DREAM.

If you’ve been reading this site for longer than two minutes, you’ll know that I’m a songwriter, and that the jewel of my heart (um, yes, I just called it “the jewel of my heart” – so?) is the Bluebird Café.  Back in October, when I was invited to play there (can we all just squeal one more time?), June 21 felt so far away.  But before I knew it, my parents were flying in, Greta was surprising me on my doorstep the day before (listen – can you hear me scream?), I was trying on 96 different outfits, and then, all of a sudden, staring out at the lights.

This is what it looks like when dreams come true.  (Thanks to Deb for the picture!)

And this is what it sounds like.  (Thanks to AnnieBlogs for recording!)

And here are best friends.

And here are just a few of the most wonderful cheerleaders.

And here are amazing parents.

And here is a man with a mullet in a SweetTarts shirt.

Because this is Hootenannie.com – where the blogs end strong.