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Things you are surely dying to know

Monday, May 24th, 2010

And a good Monday morning to you.  Yes, YOU.  Thanks for being here!

How are you today?

After Friday’s post of sunshine and daisies and love, I spent the weekend in the same blissful state.  I took long walks, had some good talks with friends, and bought a new pair of shoes that Karmen says make me strut (heeeeey!).  I saw a karate class of little kids practicing outside, yelling “yah!” and “hah!”  I found the Denver Farmers Market, where I sampled salsa and jam and cheese.  I bought myself a bouquet of gorgeous peonies, and they’re sitting in my living room next to the stained glass kaleidoscope that my aunt made years ago.

You have no idea how happy that picture, that sight, that moment, makes me.

I also got a haircut – the first haircut I have gotten in Denver.  I still like to think of Faith in Seattle and Erika in Nashville as “my” stylists… and to be honest, I don’t really want anyone else.  But alas, the shag was starting to get to me, and you have to LIVE where you are, right?  Time to find a Denver girl.  So, find a Denver girl I did.

She told me she was going to give me “Hot Veronica” hair, and I pretended that I knew what she was talking about and was like, “BRING. IT. ON.”  Nothing says “Annie Parsons” like “Hot Veronica,” right?  Well, word to the wise, people: do not come home from the salon and curiously Google “Hot Veronica” – especially you, Little Annie Parsons – this is not a good thing to do.  Instead, just check it out:

That is all the “Hot Veronica” you need to know.  I am Hot Veronica personified.

Or something.

Anyway, the weekend was fabulous.  All except for one thing.

Remember how on Friday morning I said that the Honda started “every time”?

On Friday night in ghettoville, it broke down three times in one mile.  After the battery being jumped twice by strangers, and unscrewing the gas cap to make sure it wasn’t vapor lock (the things I’ve learned!), and having the guy on the corner who was holding the sign pointing toward the marijuana clinic tell me that his dad was a mechanic for 52 years, I just called my ever-faithful AAA.  And they sent a tow truck.  And I now have a new $400 alternator.  Yay, me!


And don’t you worry, little cupcakes – my thoughts on “Lost” are coming tomorrow.  If you haven’t watched yet, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Road trip recap

Monday, May 17th, 2010

I drove to Kansas City this weekend – and you know what that means:

On the road again from Annie Parsons on Vimeo.

I’m sorry that the video was only 52 seconds long, but… no, you know what, no I’m not.  That’s about all you need to be subjected to.

Besides this (glorious) video, the only other eventful things that happened on the drive were watching a bird get completely OBLITERATED by a Camry (we’re talking: cloud of feathers, body ricocheted into the median), and calling Becca in a panic to ask who the fifth member of the Backstreet Boys was (why did I forget about Howie? Oh. Probably because he’s Howie).

When I showed up for Sarah‘s college graduation, my mom told me I looked like a flower.  I kind of felt like a flower.


Micah and Tyler have their summer buzz cuts, and it’s clear that they adore their aunties.


Sarah is now officially a college graduate and a real live nurse.  We have her with us back in Colorado for a few weeks, but she has a one-way ticket to Haiti next month.  Little sister, prepare to be smothered by us.

Christmas creativity

Sunday, December 23rd, 2007

Today, we had our family Christmas celebration. Having a pastor for a dad and a musician for a mom, Christmas Eve has never been a holiday as much as it’s been a “work” day, and this year, we’re leaving on Christmas Day to drive to Colorado for a week. So today was our only chance to celebrate as an entire family.

Being unemployed and living on a tight budget, my funds were meager this year. But one of my favorite gifts turned out to be one that I made.

First, I watercolored 5 little flowers – although our scanner has washed them out slightly:

Then, I paperclipped them to a ribbon to make a little banner.

That’s all! Simple, but cute, and it reminds me of Ashley and her shabby chic style.

Speaking of flowers, I am obsessing over Amy Butler these days. Her fabric? Her notecards? Her frella stunning designs? I want her to supply me with all things “home decor” in my new Nashville home. If I was a quilter, I would make an Amy Butler quilt. If I was a seamstress, I would make an Amy Butler trenchcoat. If I was an upholsterer, I would make this.

See, it’s like this: if we all have a harmony to our melody, a yin to our yang – a floral counterpart, if you will – she is totally mine.

Coming up rosey

Tuesday, August 21st, 2007

On my kitchen counter sits a Mason jar. In this jar you will currently find the bridal bouquet from a wedding that I recently attended; how I wound up with the bouquet is beyond me. If there is anything at a wedding that I hate more than the unity candle, it is the bouquet toss – at first mention of it, you will find me switching my ring to my left hand and walking toward the bar for another glass of wine, face aloof and firmly unsociable. Nevertheless, last weekend I found myself getting out of my car and walking toward my house at 2am with a gorgeous bunch of flowers in hand. The girl who actually caught the bouquet must have forgotten them in my freshly bumper-stickered vehicle.

Not that I’m complaining. The flowers are quite lovely, actually. Multi-colored roses that could only have been genetically engineered, they are complicated shades of pink, orange, and purple. And when is a girl going to refuse roses? The same day that Ann Coulter joins the Dixie Chicks, that’s when.

But seeing these roses in their contrived existence reminded me of a late-night talk show that I recently caught featuring supermodel Heidi Klum. She told Jay Leno that a botanist in her homeland of Germany had recently designed a rose specifically for her; never mind that she has yet to plant it in her California yard – those pesky border patrol laws keep the Heidi Klum Rose imprisoned in Deutschland.

Eventually curiosity got the best of me, and I looked up the Heidi Klum blossom. I mean, what does a flower patented exclusively for a supermodel look like? It would have to be glorious, magnificent, divine, right? I found that it was small, and purple, and kind of bushy. Apparently, its real selling point is the fragrance, an “overpowering scent” according to some. But really, the best quote regarding the Klum bloom came from the fashionista herself: “I hope all fans of gardening like the Heidi Klum Rose so that it will still bloom when my personal flowering time is over.”

Well, my pretties, when MY “personal flowering time” is over, there will not be an Annie Parsons Petunia to carry on my grand legacy of winsome appeal. My image may not be perfect. I might not inspire men to write sonnets or carve sculptures or paint masterpieces or compose ballads or engineer roses. No, there will never be a Hootenannie blossom to carry on my memory.

But hot damn, will there ever be LEGENDS.