You thought that I was your favorite Annie.

Well, my little sweeties, prepare to forsake me for another.

I have this friend Annie Downs.  You probably already read her blog - but if you don’t, you should start.  Because people, this girl has got it going on.

Annie and I decided to swap videos, giving each other tours of our new homes.  After I moved to Denver, she moved across town in Nashville - and not knowing where she is?  Has been killing me a little bit.

But it doesn’t have to kill you!  Here she is, giving you a tour of her new place.

If you’re curious to see where I’ve been hanging my hat (proverbial hat, that is - I don’t actually own a hat), head over to AnnieBlogs.com to see my happy little home.

And… what’s that?  You can’t get enough of the Annies?  Don’t worry - we’re archived.

In the midst of this move (because a move doesn’t just happen, you know… it is a process that takes place over a period of time - however long it takes, really), I have had hours upon hours to myself.  I think that I am predisposed to handling solitude a lot better than most - I don’t mind being alone, and in a lot of ways, I thrive on it.

But what I’m finding is that while quiet is good, silence can be hard.  A girl can drive herself crazy with the thoughts that she thinks in silence.  The vacuum of nothingness attracts all manner of mental material - because, as a wise man recently told me, “nature abhors a vacuum.”

Granted, he was trying to encourage me that my singleness will not be forever (dear sweet Jesus, please and amen), but still.  Same idea.

To fill up the hours and keep the silence at bay, thankfully, I have running.

In a small way, I think that running may be saving me during this move.  I am running 5-6 days a week, and at least one of those days is 10+ miles.  I’ve mentioned it before on this blog: what has come over me?  I didn’t become a runner until last year, when I trained for my first major race - and that was with my beloved East Nasties, who I do not have here in Denver.  I am stunned at my own commitment in their absence.

While running with the Nasties last year was just as much a social opportunity as it was a training regime, running alone is proving to be a discipline.  I have to corral my thoughts - because while my body is incredibly strong these days, it’s my mind that needs a crack of the whip.

In 2009, running was theirs - something that I participated in, but I didn’t own.  It didn’t belong to me.  But this year, running is mine.

Then again, perhaps I’m just avoiding the silence.

I just got back from the DMV, i.e. The Worst Place On Earth.

Actually, I experienced another place this weekend that would rival the DMV for that title: Micro Center.

I took my fritzy Macbook to the Apple Store on Saturday, and the self-assuredly dubbed Apple Genius told me that yes, I needed a new hard drive, and no, I should not have it replaced in house.  I appreciated his honesty, since his recommendation wound up saving me a couple hundred bucks.

But still.  He sent me to Micro Center.

What is Micro Center?  This horrible, horrible store full of electronics and screaming children.  It’s located in a terribly depressing section of Denver called the Tech Center - a place where every building looks the same, and the only signs of life are a 7-11, a Mexican restaurant, and, well, Micro Center.  They had what seemed like 75 employees, all walking around doing “things,” but I still had to wait in line for close to an hour.  Eventually, I made it out - with a new hard drive, and a desperation for flora, fauna, chipmunks - anything but technology.

I spent most of my weekend coaxing my Macbook back to life.  Just like an episode of “Rescue 911,” the process was harrowing - touch-and-go - and there was that crucial point when the music got solemn and uncertain, and I didn’t know if resuscitation was going to be possible.  But as of today, thanks to my trusty backed-up files, we are back in business.  My iPod overfloweth with Lady Gaga and Ke$ha.

I know.  Just… I know.

Because I hadn’t quite gotten my fill of spending a lot of money on things that aren’t fun to spend money on, and I am also quite fond of torture and anguish, I headed to the DMV this morning on the frozen roads.  $21 later, I am in possession of a wimpy piece of paper that doubles as my “temporary license.” Next up: Colorado plates.

Few things are as joyless as doling out sweet cash for things that bring you no happiness whatsoever.

I love beets.  I really, truly love them.  If I see them on a menu, I will choose beets over almost anything else.

My least favorite color is blue.  I don’t hate it, I would just never pick it for anything.  If I were the captain of a kickball team, I would choose red first, and then green like my new curtains, and then maybe teal.  Yellow would be one of my last choices.  But not as last as blue.  Blue would be the last one standing.

My left ring toe - the one next to the pinky toe - is broken.  Or something.  I have a tendency to overreact to physical ailments, so it’s hard to tell - but something is definitely wrong with it.  All of a sudden, it’s gigantic - Elmer Fudd might as well have dropped an anvil on his foot.  The weird thing is that it doesn’t really hurt - but it’s swollen and purple.  I still ran for 40 minutes last night, though.  That probably didn’t help.

When I run, I listen to what I have been told is the “worst running music ever” - mid-90’s country.  I can’t help it.  The songs are so good.  In the 90’s, Nashville still operated by the principle of “the best song wins” - before it became so politicized and exclusive.  So last night, I was all, “Trisha Yearwood?  Patty Loveless?  Blackhawk?  YES PLEASE.”

These days, at least there’s Lori McKenna.

For as stilted and exhausting as it can be to move to a new city, I am reminded of something that I felt a lot of when I first moved to Nashville: potential.  The first days in a new place have a lonely sweetness to them - quiet possibility.  Each person that I meet might wind up being my friend.  Each road I drive down might lead to a surprise.

So.  Denver, ho.

I just wanted to tell you all of these things today.

I moved up to Denver on Friday night, and have been camping out in my apartment on an air mattress; my stuff should arrive late this week.  I live off of exit 206 (an homage to Seattle) on a street called Franklin (an homage to Nashville’s little sister) next to Cheesman Park (an homage to me, the cheese man).

Over the weekend, I was invited to watch a movie with strangers, made friends with two brothers who own a wine shop, had an incredible seafood meal, lunched downtown with my mom and sister, ran into a friend from high school in the park, organized my closets, bought a brushed nickel trash can for the bathroom, went on 2 runs, tried my new shower (it is awesome), and visited a church.

I keep driving around, thinking, “I can’t believe I live here” – and not because I’m shocked at the reality, but more because it doesn’t feel real AT ALL.  It’s like a fake life.  I’m like this kid.  I know that it will become more real with time, but right now, it feels like I’m pretending.

Well, then, here’s a hefty dose of real life: Mom’s chemo starts today.

Cancer’s going down.

Tomorrow is a new year, a fresh start, a clean slate.

I like markers.  I like new beginnings.  I like boundaries that separate “this” from “that.”  It gives me a sense of control, however misperceived.

2010 is a year of starting over, in almost every way that I possibly could – even in ways that I didn’t ask for and don’t want to.  New city.  New home.  New people.  The “new people” part is the part I really don’t like – I’ll be honest, I don’t really want any new people.  I like the people that I already have, thankyouverymuch.

But I think back to 2 years ago when I moved to Nashville, and I could not believe that I had left Seattle.  I spent the first 6 months with one foot still in the Northwest, convincing myself that the relocation was temporary, and that I would be returning sooner rather than later.  I tried to freeze my long-distance friendships – like frogs under the ice, just biding time until the waters thawed and they could once again swim freely.

But that day never came.

And you know what?  I’m glad.

I exchanged something very good in Seattle for what turned out to be something very good in Nashville.  Incredible friends.  Amazing experiences.  Growth and challenges and hilarity and LIFE.  I would not trade my two years in Nashville for anything I once had in Seattle – not because it was better than what I had in Seattle, but because I have now experienced it, and it’s mine.

You can’t give back what is now yours.  I wouldn’t want to.  Not even the hard stuff.

So as I head up to Denver today to get the keys to my new apartment, and I wait for my furniture to be delivered next week, and I start working in the office on Monday, and I drive around this massive urban sprawl that seems so foreign and gigantic, I want to be present.  I will leave my heart wide open to the people in front of me – not forsaking my far-flung, beloved friends, but hopefully, gracefully, allowing those relationships to change.  This is the only way to truly live.

Even though I didn’t really ask for it, I chose it, and I CHOOSE it.  I’m excited for what Denver might hold.

But, um, friends?  Please come visit me in 2010.  I miss you already.

According to the internets, I am a Colorado resident once I meet one of the following criteria:

•    I have obtained employment in Colorado.
•    I own or operate a business in Colorado.
•    I have resided in Colorado continuously for 90 or more days.

Well, I moved here with a job.  So.  That’s that.  We’ll see if I actually switch my license plates or drivers license over; as of today, they are still from the great state of Washington – a place I haven’t lived for over two years.

For those of you keeping track, I had a trip to Seattle scheduled for this week – to ring in the New Year with some of my not-so-nearest, but definitely dearest.  But I’m sad to say that this weekend, I canceled my ticket.  I thought that the hard part would be leaving Nashville, but I was wrong; the emotional locomotive hit me once I got to Colorado – and I think it would be wise for me to have some downtime before officially moving to Denver next week (I start in the Denver office a week from today, although I’m working remotely from Colorado Springs this week).  I’m super bummed to not be seeing my beloved Seattlites this week – but I’ll be there for a wedding in February.

I drove around Denver on Saturday.  It is gigantic.  As I drove the hour south back to my parents’ house, two fat tears rolled down my cheeks from behind my sunglasses.

This might take awhile.

My deficit of sleep and surplus of emotion have left me with a raging case of stress acne.  Just in time for Christmas!

This Christmas Eve morning finds me in Kansas City, having driven out of Nashville yesterday without crying a single tear.  Scrape a face off Mt. Rushmore to make room for mine – I’m hard as stone.  Actually, I think I’m just tired of crying.  I’ve cried a lot these past few weeks in anticipation of this move – because as convinced I am that it’s the right decision, it still hurts my heart like whoa.

The plan is to continue on to Colorado today.  There’s a blizzard stretching all along I-70, growing progressively worse the further west you go.  So all that “I’ll be home for Christmas” talk?  Might be IN YOUR DREAMS, sucker.

But if the past is any indication, there are angels that fly with my Honda.  May it be so today – and for you, too, if you’re traveling.  Merry Christmas!

For starters, I would like to pose a question.

What child IS this? from Annie Parsons on Vimeo.

So what is it?  A, or B?

Secondly, this weekend, Facebook really chapped my ass (a phrase that I have recently decided is very worth using).  I tried to upload pictures from the JAM House Christmas Spectacular – at which we had a fantastic time and packed our home with more people than we ever imagined – but the old ‘Book translated my vibrant images into dull, grey-toned disappointments.

See?

Why??  Facebook has let me down.  People need to know that my dress was not forest, but EMERALD.

That said, those two gentlemen flanking me?  The one on the left is my new friend Matt (SHOUT OUT), and the one on the right is Paul – or PZC, as he is known on this here blog.  Paul – besides being one that I outright avoided a goodbye with last night because it would have made me cry way too hard and so it was easier to pretend that none of this is actually happening – is the one who made a makeshift vocal booth for me in his closet when we recorded a song back in October.

Now, that song is finished – listen!

Lines of Love by annieparsons

That’s Matty Rineer on lead vocals – isn’t he great?  Actually… I’ve never met him, just recorded backup vocals for this song that he wrote and had already recorded the lead parts for.  So don’t take my word for it – he could be a psychopath.  And didn’t Pauly do a fantastic job with the recording and mixing?

On Saturday, multiple strong and manly gentlemen showed up at the house to help me load my pod.  Let me just say, I highly recommend the ABF ReloCube – as well as having generous and rugged man-friends.  In one hour – ONE HOUR – my entire life was packed into a 6’ x 7’ x 8’ box.

Day after tomorrow, I leave.  Ice storms are in store.  I hope the Honda makes it.  I hope I make it.  I hope I don’t spend Christmas morning in a ditch.

We are down to single digits: I am moving in 9 days.

And yes, I have Christmas parties 6 of the next 9 nights.  I might run out of outfits.

That said, posting may be light until after I get to Colorado.  I don’t want to miss out on a single moment of Nashville until I have to.  The thought of leaving these friends of mine - the ones I just tried to list by name and then had to stop because it would have been too long to read – keeps me awake at night.

I want to love on these people who have loved me for two years.  I want to write them each letters and tell them exactly why I appreciate them, exactly why I am going to miss them so much my heart might dissolve.  I want to sit face to face with them, and hear their voices.  I want to hug them while I can still touch them.  I want to take pictures with them, to capture this sliver of time that is flying by much too quickly.  I want to let them know that I believe in them, that I want good things for them – that, quite simply, I adore them.

Nashville, get ready for some lovin’.