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“It only ends once – everything before that is just progress.”

Tuesday, May 25th, 2010

Dear Lost,

In the 36 hours since Sunday night, the internets have been abuzz with talk of you.  Did you end the right way?  Were people’s minds sufficiently blown?  How accurate were our theories?  Was the conclusion good enough?

Mainly: are we satisfied?

Lost, you were my favorite show I’ve ever watched, and gave me something to look forward to for 6 years.  From living in my studio in Seattle, to driving around the country for 3 months, to a tiny apartment on Music Row in Nashville, to a house shared with roommates and so many friends, to this new little life in Denver, you have been, as Daniel Faraday would call it, my constant.

You were an excuse to get together with friends – or, in more recent TV-less, friendless months, a reason to go to the gym on Tuesday nights.  You introduced me to interesting characters who asked interesting questions.  You tied together and orchestrated seemingly unrelated stories – and as exaggerated as it may be, in a small way it kind of makes me think of this.

[Seriously.  If that isn’t a masterpiece, I don’t know what is.  It doesn’t matter how many times I listen to it – I lose it every time.  I think that’s what heaven is going to sound like.]

I will miss the happy confusion you offered, and the absolute delirium I felt when I realized the game had changed (“We have to go back, Kate – we have to go back!”).  I love how you littered the Island with unrealistically good-looking people – women with fantastic cleavage and men with glorious scruff.  Thank you for throwing in polar bears, book clubs, Virgin Mary statues, time-traveling rats, swinging pendulums, smoke monster security systems, The Mamas & The Papas, spinal surgeries, ghosts, submarines, cliff fights (THE PUNCH!), and – loyal to the very end – a dog named Vincent.

People can say whatever they’re going to say – but you were good enough for me. I’ll miss you.

Dharma forever,

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.

Are you there, blog? It’s me, Annie.

Thursday, May 13th, 2010

Don’t worry, I’m still here.

Not only am I HERE, but I am not depressed, despondent, or dead, either.  On the contrary, I am very much alive!  Thanks for being concerned, though, ye who have reached out.  I guess I’m just taking my time living life these days.

I have a new favorite song: “See You in the Spring” by the Court Yard Hounds and Jakob Dylan.  The subdued verses bloom into one of the most satisfying choruses I’ve ever heard.

You know how today is May 13th?  That makes yesterday May 12th.  And that makes it all the more astounding that yesterday it SNOWED.  It snowed here in Denver.  In mid-May.  It was actually one of the coldest days since I moved here – or maybe it just felt like it because I was outside at the Rockies game.  In the wintertime.


But here we were – bundled up.  Those are my lovely co-workers, Leigh and Gina.  And that is me in Gina’s boys’ x-large snowboarding jacket.  The Rockies won in the bottom of the 10th with a home run.  By that time, we couldn’t move our faces.

“Lost” is almost over – over forever.  Since I don’t own a TV, most Tuesday nights I go to the gym in hopes of one of the sets being tuned to ABC, fully prepared to elliptical my ass off (literally, hopefully) for the entire 60 minutes.  Usually, though, 24 Hour Fitness does not have ABC on – and I’m way too terrified to change the channel in front of all of the scary men glued to SportsCenter.  So I wind up watching “Lost” online later.

If you haven’t watched the episode from Tuesday night, don’t worry – no spoilers here.  Except, I will say one thing: Allison Janney is one crazy mofo.  I LOVE HER.  Such a freak.

Last night, a guy asked me if I would refer to a certain movie as a “romantic comedy.”  I informed him that we well-seasoned ladies call them “RoCos,” thank you very much.

The other night, I was lying in bed when I saw a SPIDER crawl out from under the sheets.  I quickly killed it – but I didn’t scream.  I just went on reading.  And I slept in the bed.  This, I believe, is what we call “progress.”

Some people pay off their student loans.  I buy plane tickets to people’s weddings.  I can’t help it, though – I love these friends.

You know who else I love?  My family.  And tomorrow, I will slide behind the wheel of the 20-year old Honda to drive to Kansas City once again to be with them.  Nine hours there on Friday, and nine hours back on Sunday – a straight-shot on I-70.  Remind me to renew my AAA before 5am tomorrow morning.

Y’all come back now… again… tomorrow… maybe.

Friday, May 30th, 2008

Guys, I am very sorry to report that the special surprise will not be happening today. Due to circumstances out of my control, it is not ready to be unveiled JUST yet.

But probably tomorrow. Probably.

Dang. Who wants to unveil a surprise on the weekend, when everyone is not at their computer all day to see it? I might wait until Monday for the surprise.

Or I might post it tomorrow. I’ll see how I feel.

I like to keep you on your toes.

Sorry. SIKE! Just kidding. But seriously. Sike.

In other news, I just finished the season finale of “Lost” (yes, at work. So?). And all I have to say is that Michael Emerson and Yunjin Kim are the best actors on that show. Phenomenal.

Y’all come back now, you hear?

Friday, May 30th, 2008

Be sure to check back later today for a very special surprise. I’m serious.

But before your mind goes all haywire, know that the surprise is none of the following:
1) An engagement ring.
2) An ultrasound photo.
3) Anything related to “Lost.” I haven’t watched yet. DONOTTELLMEANYTHING!!!!!

In the meantime, to sustain your minds and hearts, here is something that I learned yesterday and tried last night with the fabulous Mary Hiemstra, visiting from Seattle:

Purée a can of black beans (rinse them first, then refill the can with the beans and water to the top), add a brownie mix and some coffee grounds, and bake. The world’s greatest tasting brownies ever. High fiber, high protein, low fat. No bean-taste at all. Try it – you will not be sorry.

In anticipation of tonight’s episode…

Thursday, March 13th, 2008

There have been times in my life when I have thought, “I wish I could get stuck on a desert island.” Don’t get me wrong – only for a month or two, and always with the assurance that a yacht would come pick me up on a certain day.

I could have time and space to myself. I could spend endless hours with no sound, no voices, no human interaction. I could think and read and write. I would be forced to deprive myself of sugar, as there would be none around. When I finally left, I would be so breathlessly ready to re-enter society.

And then, I thought, who needs an island? That’s just my desk job.

Live together, die alone

Thursday, January 31st, 2008

There is a humongous benefit to living in the Central Time Zone. People in Seattle have more than 3 hours to go. For me, “Lost” is starting in 20 minutes.


In fact, I haven’t been able to blog today because I just haven’t known what to say. I have no words to give shape and voice to the excitement I am feeling right now. Good gracious, have I ever been so obsessed with a television show? I guess that I was pretty dedicated to “Full House” back in elementary school, but this is a whole new animal.

I’ll see you on the flip side, when we all know a little bit more and a little bit less.

Island anticipation

Thursday, January 17th, 2008

On Facebook, there are six random friends that are displayed on one’s profile at any given time. Each time I refresh my page, six new faces appear. Without fail, every time I see these six faces, I imagine that I’m stuck on a desert island with them, and wonder how awkward or awesome that combination might be.

Sometimes, it’s really exciting: “She’s the kind of person that I would want around in a crisis, and he would probably make a really sweet hut. And that guy can be there just because he’s cute.” But other times, the make-believe awkwardness and discomfort wins out: “Those two would fight about religion, and he’s a know-it-all even though he doesn’t know anything, and she’s a vegan, so…”

This little game of mine highlights a really cool truth about my life: I have so many friends, and they are extraordinarily different. I have a few really close kindred spirits, but am also peripherally involved in many varied social networks. Each person brings something unique and noteworthy to the mix. I learn from each person, whether it’s about civil engineering, or what liquor goes into a Manhattan, or how to play a diminished chord on the guitar, or why turning 30 is going to be rad, or how to pair the right accessories with an outfit, or simply, what kindness looks like.

Friends, thanks for being my friends.

And obviously, I can’t wait for “Lost” to come back… TWO WEEKS FROM TONIGHT.

Climb every mountain

Friday, June 8th, 2007

With the recent purchase of both new hiking boots AND new running shoes, I woke up this morning not sure which pair I should break in today. But then I remembered my CamelBak that was also waiting to be inaugurated, and since I love that oh-so-satisfactory click it makes when the mouthpiece magnetically sticks to the chest strap, my decision was made.

I drove to Mt. Si this morning, ready to conquer the mountain by myself. If hiking alone sounds like the beginnings of a bad nightly news story, you’re probably right. Even I had visions of a creepy man stepping from the woods onto the trail all Ethan-style, ready to whisk me to a shack in the woods to perform weird experiments on me. But luckily, Mt. Si is the equivalent of Green Lake on an incline, and so there were plenty of fellow hikers and trail dogs.

Given that three of my top five worst fears are a) falling from high heights, b) chipping a tooth in the process, and c) being eaten by a bear (and to be honest, I don’t know what the other top two fears would be – those three pretty well encompass my greatest fears), the outdoors might sound like the last place that I should spend time. And indeed: as a child, I was a lazy bum and the anti-outdoorsman (much to the chagrin of my hiker parents), preferring the comfort of my own bed and access to a VCR over dirt and pain (yes, dirt and pain). But in recent years, I have turned over a new leaf, and have been spending more and more time in the wilderness. Hiking, backpacking, camping, I do it all. And I even have the gear to prove it. I am strong and have endurance and don’t even have asthma attacks. I put the “active” in “attractive.”

Um. Right.

When I’m honest? Perfectly honest? My attitude toward the outdoors hasn’t exactly changed. I still cannot stand blackened toenails, sunburns, peeing in the woods, bugs and vermin. I hate feeling dirty, and that gross salty residue that is left behind after sweating. I hike not to commune with nature. I hike with high, futile hopes of my tush standing at attention.

And so this morning, I practically sprinted the 4-miles up the mountain, never letting anyone pass me, but me doing the passing. I was the passer in this operation. I broke a cardinal rule of those nature-loving hikers, and listened to my iPod the whole time – country songs about one-night stands (We ain’t done nothing wrong, we’ve just been lonely too long…). Even with my new boots, my left heel was ground into hamburger (that pesky size 8 foot), and required some serious tender-loving care at the summit.

But you know? The summit was beautiful. Thousands of feet higher than when I started, the clouds were rolling away like an ocean tide, and all was peaceful. And even as I killed the ants and threw rocks at the chipmunks to keep them away from my gouda and crackers, I was glad that I am a hiker. Maybe this nature thing isn’t too bad after all.