Heat

...now browsing by category

 

Standing offer

Thursday, August 1st, 2013

A few weeks ago, I was driving home from the airport when I looked at the thermometer on my dashboard.

“109 degrees!” I cried. I know that Denver gets hot, but it had been ages since I’d seen a temperature that high.

A minute later, I looked again. “110 degrees!” I was freaking out. It was the apocalypse. We were all going to die.

But don’t worry. It was just the odometer.

:::::

Thank you all for your kind and compassionate words about the loss of Toad. She was so special, and I feel her absence just about every minute. I’m realizing that although she was “just” a dog, I’ve never lost anyone who was such a constant part of my everyday life. It’s a big deal.

But life doesn’t stop, and I haven’t slowed down. I’m about to board a flight to Nashville for Brandon and Miranda’s – Mirbranda’s – wedding weekend, and look forward to spending a few very full days with some amazing friends. Did you know that Miranda and I met through this blog? And now I’m about to be a bridesmaid in her wedding (strangely enough, this isn’t the first time this has happened).

I’m thankful for the community assembled here, the connections that have formed, and the sweet virtual words offered to me in recent weeks and months. This season has been a doozy. Sometimes I want to run for the hills. But I’m thumbtacking your encouragement to my spirit.

Basically, if any of you ever need a bridesmaid, I’m your girl.

Walking, Work, Whoa Mama!

Thursday, June 24th, 2010

Remember when I boldly proclaimed that I was going to walk 1,000 miles between Memorial Day and Labor Day?

Well, then I went to Nashville, where being outside in the summer is the equivalent of being in utero without an umbilical cord.  Is that gross of me to say?  I don’t know – do YOU remember your time in the womb?

Anyway, due to sheer self-preservation and the fact that I value my life, my walking fell behind.  And back in Denver, as of today, June 24, I am only at 119 miles.

Granted, 13 of those miles were yesterday.  THIRTEEN!  I will make up for lost time yet.  Because, as New Math puts it:

- – - – - – - -

I spent yesterday at an online marketing convention, manning a booth for work.  People were asking for my business card.  I’ve never had anyone ask for my business card before!  I was like, “Hello, I am An Expert.  Nice to meet you.”

My friend Scotty recently told me that she likes getting my emails so much that I should somehow find a way to get paid to correspond with people.  That was so nice of her – because after all, I do love to write emails.

But then I thought, hello.  That IS my job.

Hooray!

- – - – - – - -

A lot of you have asked how my mom is doing.  She had her final radiation treatment, and is completely finished with all scheduled cancer treatment.  She is currently in Washington state visiting family and friends, and will be active and walking and hiking the whole time – because she is Susan Freaking Parsons and she defies the odds.

I was on the phone with her the other night, and about to hang up.

“Wait!” she cried.  “I’ve been meaning to ask you something for weeks.”

I prepared myself for talk of money, or maybe why I’m single.

“Do you leave your curtains open?  Because I’ve been worried about sun damage to your couch.”

What would I do without this woman?

Something to talk about

Wednesday, June 23rd, 2010

I was in Nashville last week, where, as a friend of mine said, it was “hotter than a three-balled tomcat.”  The heat in the South is truly, truly oppressive.  You don’t know what you have until it’s gone – and yes, I am referring to AIR.

I am also referring to my car every time it gets stolen.  But I digress.

And I change the subject.

Who has World Cup fever?  Not me!  I wish I did, because it would give me something to talk about with other humans (I have enough trouble with that as it is).  It’s sort of like living in Denver and not being a snow-sporter – I am automatically an outsider.

I can’t help it.  I would rather talk about my feelings.  My feelings, or how long my hair is getting (almost to bra-strap length, which is the goal, by the way).  Or how much I am loving Jakob Dylan’s “Women and Country.”  Or the fact that I recently referred to what could have been an awkward run-in with someone as being, in fact, “super natural” – and the other person translating it as “supernatural,” and how that confusion delighted me to the very marrow in my bones.

Mostly, I think that I just love words the very most of everything.

DIA –> BNA

Thursday, June 17th, 2010

Good gracious.

I am in Nashville, where I have been hit with humidity like a French kiss from the devil himself.

Oddly, I don’t mind all that much.  Being with these people that I love has been so good for my soul.  I’ve overbooked myself (as usual), and am running a zillion miles an hour to keep up.  I wouldn’t skip a single thing, though.

I am so thankful that I am currently able to live life in both Colorado and Tennessee – able to be closer to my family, and still maintaining so much of what I have going on here in Nashville.  I get the best of both worlds.  I couldn’t have planned an existence in which this would be possible – and yet, here I am, living it.

Life is not always easy, but it’s wicked good.

Powerless

Thursday, August 20th, 2009

When I got home from work last night, the power was out.  It didn’t come back on for 15 hours.  FIFTEEN HOURS.  Right as I was walking out the door for work this morning, all of the lights kicked on – so then, I had to put down my purse, put down my Vera Bradley quilted lunch bag, put down my laptop, put down my gym clothes, and do a walk-through of the house to turn everything off.

My bedroom is upstairs, where, sans air conditioner, it is at least 12 degrees hotter than the rest of the house.  Needless to say, last night was sheer misery.  But that’s all I’m going to say about that, because this summer, I haven’t been complaining as much about the heat (proud?).  It doesn’t mean that I’ve been enjoying it any more, or even hating it any less – just not verbalizing my suffering as often or as strongly.

But just because I won’t talk about the heat doesn’t mean I won’t talk about other things.

Yet another brilliant segue by Annie Parsons.

But.  I don’t know where to take it.  So I guess that this is the end – unless you’ll allow me to add these things: it’s really difficult to read white letters on a black background, crouton rhymes with futon, and vote for Gabe.

Fighting the summer wilt

Thursday, June 25th, 2009

One month from now is now one week from now.

Oh, Pacific Northwest.  Save me from today’s forecast.

picture-2

I thought that maybe – maybe – my second Nashville summer might feel a bit more manageable than my first.  But to be frank, it’s hellacious.  I feel angry all the time.

I DO enjoy the fireflies, though.  They don’t get old.

I’m REALLY loving white wine this year, for the first time ever.

And… well, unless you can give me more, those are the only reasons I can think of to look on the bright side of the summer.

The upcoming holiday weekend

Thursday, May 21st, 2009

Whoa.  Didn’t mean to quit blogging.  But it happened for a second.

- – - – - – - -

I was invited to spend this coming Saturday on a pontoon boat with 30 other people.

I would rather streak across a golf course.

Many of the people who are going to be on the boat read this blog, and I want you to know that truly, it’s not you – it’s me.  Nowhere on my list of favorite things does it read “sun,” “heat,” “burn,” “sweat,” or “stranded with no escape.”

Incidentally, these are all of the same reasons I hated summer camp – although I can emphatically say that the number one reason I hated summer camp was the fear of getting my first period away from home.  (Sorry for saying “period.”  Oh, and sorry for saying it again.)

Instead of doing something summery and boatish and what some might call “dreamy,” my Memorial Day weekend plans include the following:
-    Pet-sitting for a former co-worker (uh oh)
-    Cleaning out the 12-year old black lab’s eyes on a daily basis (the owner showed me how – and I’m serious, I might vomit every day)
-    Seeing Lori McKenna at 12th & Porter on Friday night – oh, sweet bliss!
-    Babysitting for very cute twins on Saturday night
-    Holding babies in the church nursery on Sunday night
-    Welcoming Julie back from the Caribbean
-    Welcoming Nashville Miranda back from Argentina
-    Hanging with Erin Castioni – which could quite possibly lead to all manner of spontaneity.  I mean, remember last time?

What are YOU doing for Memorial Day weekend?

Ready or not

Friday, April 24th, 2009

One of the East Nasties has a bumper sticker that says “Run Happy.”

I don’t.  Run happy, that is.

Some people are built to run – I am not.  I really do not enjoy running.  Even after dedicating myself for months, pulling myself out of bed every Saturday AND Sunday morning, and watching my mileage go up and up and up, I still don’t LIKE to run – especially because I never got the runner’s booty of my dreams.

NOT. FAIR.

But after months and months of training, the Country Music Half-Marathon is upon us.  The starting line is in sight.  The gun fires (or whatever it is they’ll do – fog horn? yell really loud? I’m going to yell really loud) at 7am tomorrow.

I’ve been having stress dreams about it – that I show up and don’t have my number, or my shoes have no laces, or it’s 90 degrees outside.  That’s maybe my biggest actual fear about tomorrow – that it’s going to be really hot, which is not only a possibility, but the forecasted reality.  It is unseasonably warm in Nashville right now.  Even though I don’t enjoy it, I can TOLERATE running – unless it’s hot outside.  Then it’s truly miserable – if not impossible.

I am terrified that I’m not going to succeed – that it’s going to be too hard, too far, that all of my hard work won’t have been enough.  And at this point, it’s truly a case of mind over matter: my body is strong.  I’ve put in the training.  I know that I CAN run 13.1 consecutive miles.  But my brain isn’t so sure about it – and as soon as I let those thoughts start creeping in – I’m tired, I can’t do this, this is too hard – then it’s over.  I quit.

But then, I have to remember that before October, the furthest I had ever run was one lap around Green Lake in Seattle.  And the fact that I can run 5 miles, let alone 11.2 (which was my longest training run), is ridiculously amazing.  I’ve spent the past 4 months training with an incredible group of people of all running abilities – people who have encouraged me and pushed me – and it’s a very cool thing to be a part of something larger than myself.

And there’s no way to say this without sounding completely cheesy, so I’m just going to say it: everyone who has trained for this race is already a winner.

AAAAAAGH I AM SO SORRY!!!!!!!

I hereby fire myself as the writer of this blog.

But truly, ready or not.  Tomorrow it is.  I’ve worked too hard to give up now.  May my will be as strong as my legs.

Pink slip

Tuesday, October 14th, 2008
Notice of Termination

Dear Summer,
We regret to inform you that you are being fired, effective immediately. Technically, you should have been gone weeks ago – on the Autumnal Equinox, as universally agreed – but obviously, you had your Nashville constituents fooled. You hid your face for a week or so, only to reappear on the scene with a foul air and a hot head.

You have been most rude to your replacement, Lady Fall, pushing her aside and preventing her from carrying out her duties. She is a beautiful soul, ready and willing to perform her magical deeds, but it’s impossible to get anything done when you have commandeered her workstation. And let’s not forget the incident involving you using her scarf to attempt to strangle her. I know, you say that it was all in good fun – calling it “one last tryst with Mr. Sun-Kissed” but she is threatening a lawsuit. You have overstayed your welcome. This leaves me no choice but to ax you.

Summer, this may come across as discourteous, but it must be said: everyone is sick of you and your obnoxious ways. For 4 ½ months, you have greeted us each morning with the unsightly image of your butt crack of dawn. You huff and puff your way through your days, bag of Doritos in hand, sweating on everyone you encounter. You have fostered skin cancer, body odor, and bad hair days. You have inspired bikini-clad women to dance to Kid Rock on boats and in the backs of pickup trucks. And as your latest egregious act, you have threatened that tomorrow you will crank up the thermostat to 86.

Well, guess what, Summer: you 86 us, we 86 you.

Signed,
Annie

Welcome – and please never leave

Tuesday, September 16th, 2008

It’s been a long time. I was starting to think that the day would never come. But finally, after days and weeks and months of absolute agony, the moment has finally arrived:

I am in a good mood.

A genuinely good mood.

Welcome, Fall. You have been missed.

The people of Nashville tell me that this summer was mild. These words feel like a frying pan to the face – a disorienting blow that leaves me dazed, confused, and frankly, a bit pissed off. What do you mean, “mild”? This summer was the most miserable season OF MY LIFE. I didn’t sleep because it was too hot. I didn’t exercise because it was too hot. I didn’t do my hair because it was too hot. I didn’t smile because it was too hot.

You might call me a weather wimp. But I say to thee, HOLD YOUR JUDGMENT: you never see me scoffing at the people who become depressed in the dark and cold winter months – mostly because I am gleefully drinking tea and being cozy. I’ve never really liked the summer – but this is the first year that I genuinely hated the summer. I honestly do not know if I will willingly choose to live through another Nashville hot-season – not on purpose.

But the doleful summer days are now gone. Or at least – almost gone. I know that it’s supposed to get back into the 80’s tomorrow and for the remainder of the week, and who knows what next week will bring. But today, I am wearing a scarf. I am back to my lunchtime walks. I am feeling the change in the air.

What is this strange feeling?

Oh. Happiness. Long overdue, honest-to-God happiness.