So.  It’s Friday again.  And not a moment too soon.

I’m making this soup for dinner tonight.  After Mom’s gift of the entire pantry, I have every single ingredient on hand.

I started training for the Seattle Half-Marathon, which is happening the Sunday after Thanksgiving.  It feels good to be running again.

I had stopped buying bread altogether, but then I rediscovered sourdough.

Do I know anyone in Montana?  I can’t remember.

Last night, Becca and I asked Toad which of our rooms she wanted to sleep in.  She stood in the hallway, looked back and forth between our bedrooms, and then hopped into mine.

I slept under my down comforter last night.  It’s that chilly now.

I want my hair to be long and glam.  The next minute, I want it to be short and sassy.  In the meantime, it’s probably just in a ponytail because I probably haven’t taken the time to style it in days.

I’m starting a new book, “Little Bee.”  I got it at McKay’s used bookstore in Nashville for $2.  I wish I could find a great used bookstore in Denver.

Not too long ago, a boy made me count how many dresses I had in my closet – and there were more than 40.  I got rid of a bunch.  But now, I need a cocktail dress, and nothing I own is right for the occasion.  Again – yes, I know.

OMG, Jonathan Taylor Thomas is 30.

I made it back to Denver on Saturday night, and when I walked into my apartment, I swear, it took everything in me to not drop to my knees and kiss the hardwood floors.  For all of the trips that I take, I am a bona fide homebody.

Yesterday, it started snowing.  It was pretty and white and wintery outside, so I looked out the window for awhile.

Then, while still in my pajamas, I made my best breakfast, and drank 3 cups of coffee in quick succession.

This is too much coffee, so after that, my hands were jittery.  But I managed to plug in my new Sonicare toothbrush, which I got for Christmas.  It’s changing my life.  I’ll never go back.  NEVERRRRRR.

I looked at my new wall-hanging, a gift from my sister-in-law.  And then my heart exploded with sprinkles.

At one point, I ventured out to buy myself some yellow roses – because according to L’Oreal, I’m worth it?

I opened all of my mail (6 weeks’ worth – Merry Christmas to ME), and loved all of the holiday cards that my friends sent.  I put them on my fridge.

Then, I pulled out my food processor and made almond butter.  I added a little bit of vanilla and cinnamon to make it taste like heaven, that’s what.  I didn’t want to put it in a Tupperware, because please, ugly – so I decided that a glass butter dish would work just fine.

I acknowledge that this totally doesn’t look as appetizing as it is.

I also made chocolate chip cookies.  I didn’t get a picture.  I promise it’s not because I ate all of them – it’s just that they’re now in a plastic bag in my cabinet, and who wants to see that?

I talked on the phone for awhile.  I didn’t get a picture of that, either.  But it happened.

I examined my current physical ailments – eczema on my hands, 5 swollen toes on my left foot (do I have the Gout? I’M SERIOUS), and yellowing bruises on both of my forearms.  All are a mystery.  And again, no picture – but let’s be honest, you’re totally okay with that.

I watched a documentary called “The Art of the Steal.”

Finally, I ventured to the gym and ran 5 miles on a treadmill, which did not bode well for the 5 swollen toes on my left foot, or, incidentally, my mood.  Then, I went to Target and bought graph paper, because how much do I love graph paper?  It’s so regimented and orderly, and when I write on it I can tell myself to “read between the lines” and totally mean it.

That was yesterday, but this is today – and today, it’s 3° outside and I am feeling positively unwell.  So it’s a sick day for me – back to bed to hopefully sleep off the crud (and the Gout).

- your hair just needs to be cut?  Immediately?  Because all of a sudden, and without warning, you are Morticia?

- you wear the black racerback tank with the rainbow graphic eagle on the front?  Because it’s so awesome?

- you eat breakfast at an oatmeal cart?  Because this is Portland?

- you hear a song that changes your life?  Because it gives you the words and the framework to deal with what you couldn’t deal with before?  And it’s called “Closer to the Moon” by Alli Rogers?

- you write a blog in a format that gives the illusion that we’re all on the same page, when really, we’re probably not?  Because not everyone can own a black racerback tank with a rainbow graphic eagle on the front?

- I’ve learned who LeBron James is.
- My iPod mysteriously stopped working.
- So did my deodorant.  (??)
- I hooked up Greta and Kristy as friends.  Thinking about going into matchmaking full-time.  If you need a friend in a certain area of the country, tell me – I’ll take care of you.
- The World Cup came and went and I never watched a single game.
- I walked out of Target to find the Honda covered in orange Post-It notes that said “You are loved.”  You have no idea how much I needed that.
- I vacuumed my car.
- Even still, a spider has taken up residence in the Honda, and every morning I find a fresh, sticky web woven between the emergency break, the stick shift, and the steering wheel.  How can I destroy a spider I can’t find?
- Finally watched “Inglourious Basterds.”  For better or for worse, I’m not sure yet.
- I didn’t have a lime, so I had to use lime juice (from a green plastic squeeze bottle) in my gin & tonic.  I felt like such a fraud.
- Vacation ended.  I drove back to Denver.  Felt lonely and sad.
- I got a lot of emails – if you wrote me, chances are, I haven’t responded yet.  I will.  Promise.
- The Honda went to the shop to get her new bumper.  So long, bumper stickers.
- Currently driving a Kia Optima rental.  It’s white and bitchin’… just like me.

I am always making lists.  I cannot operate with out lists.  They make me feel productive and safe.

Why “safe”?  Don’t ask me these questions.  It’s how I FEEL.  I don’t need to have a REASON.  GAWL.

[When I was a teenager, "gawl" was my biggest expression of disgust.  I said it ALL THE TIME.  My siblings will still occasionally bring it up, throwing the word at me, faces all repulsed and contorted and dramatic.  Apparently, that is how they remember me at age 14.

I couldn't help it, though - it wasn't easy being SUPERIOR to EVERYONE.  In the UNIVERSE.  FOREVER.  INFINITY.  GAWL.]

Anyway, I just made a list of “actors I do not trust.”  I wrote it on a Post-It note.  It says:
Tom Cruise
Nicolas Cage
Charlie Sheen

And I felt like telling you.

Now, I feel it necessary to acknowledge that I might be wasting your time these days… but then again, you’re HERE, aren’t you?  Lurking in the shadows?  Creepily reading my thoughts?  Distractedly entertained for roughly 45 seconds every day this week?

Heeeyyy-ooooooh, it’s been awhile since I’ve gotten 5 in a row!  I should take myself out for a nice steak dinner.  Congrats, self.

I’m taking my ping-ponging thoughts elsewhere before someone loses an eye.  I’ll see you on Monday.

Don’t pretend like you won’t be back.  I love you.

Man.  Yesterday’s post really took it out of me.  It’s not easy talking about my skivvies to the entire Internet.  I could hardly sleep last night, knowing that the words “bikini” and “thong” were just… OUT THERE.  Attached to MY HONORABLE NAME.

When it comes to entertainment value, anything that I say after yesterday’s post is only going to be a let down.  Nothing humiliating, bawdy, or awkward has happened in the last 24 hours – and even though I never set out with this as a goal, it seems as though “humor trumps dignity” is becoming my new creed.

Here’s a question: is this a plus-size model?

I DIDN’T THINK SO EITHER.  Sheesh, Macy’s.  For crying out loud.

Here’s another question: do you call them clementines, cuties, or satsumas?

Speaking of clementines, in another life, I am going to name my children Clementine, Sparrow, and Bluebell.  I can’t do it in THIS life, because what would people think?  But deep down, I love these names.  Maybe I should get some livestock – I could name a cow Bluebell, no questions asked.  When it comes to bovines, you can get away with anything.

Just watch “Food, Inc.”

And… that’s all I’ve got today.

Controversial foods that I happen to love:
Olives
Mushrooms
Beets

Controversial foods that I happen to hate:
Tuna
Pickles
Cauliflower

Cauliflower is the worst. It makes me think of cauliflower ear.

I have a serious addiction to chewing gum, but I ran out about 8 days ago, and have yet to buy a new pack. Every morning after my two cups of coffee, I reach for a piece of minty freshness, and realize that my purse is empty. I spend the rest of the day going through withdrawal. Why I don’t just go buy a new pack of gum is beyond me – maybe I’m trying to prove my ruggedness of spirit.

Speaking of spirit, last night, I mentioned my “melancholy spirit” to Zach, the friend from Seattle who now lives on the JAM house floor (JAMZ?). He told me to not to call it that – because there is a difference between “spirit” and “temperament,” and that my spirit is actually quite fiery. I think that’s true – and it was nice to hear from an outside source.

Also last night, I sang background vocals for one of PZC’s grad school projects – he set up a makeshift isolation booth in his closet, and I sang from there while he and Zach sat silently in chairs in the middle of the bedroom. Occasionally, one of Paul’s roommates would poke their head into the room and find us thusly. That thought is making me laugh today.

I go to Boston tomorrow. If Seattle is my true love, then Boston is my crush. Seattle is to Edward as Boston is to Jacob – although, no, I still have not finished “Eclipse,” so I don’t know how it’s all going to end, and who knows – maybe Bella will wind up with a werewolf after all. At this rate, I may never know. I don’t fully believe that she has “just friends” feelings for Jacob, no matter how many times her annoying narrative voice insists upon it. I kind of want to take the book with me on the plane, but what if I still don’t read it? It’s a huge, heavy, embarrassing novel to be toting around and flashing to strangers if I’m not actually going to read it.

But I want to know how it all ends.

Don’t tell me, though.

I apologize for the lack of substance on this blog this week.  I promise to resume some substantial, witty, entertaining posting someday soon.  But until then, this is all I have for you:

- I’ve filled out 3 March Madness brackets.  In one of them, in honor of Andy Bernard, I chose Cornell to win it all.
- This year, I remembered that a 16-seed team does not mean that “16 out of 16 times, THEY WIN!”
- I made mango chicken curry in Duane’s crockpot for “Lost” last night – but I added couscous to the mix, making it all an oatmealy-consistency.  Failure.  But at least it was curry-flavored oatmeal?
- Speaking of “Lost” – oh my word.
- I love interviewing the East Nasty of the Week each Wednesday night.  I’m practically Barbara Walters.
- If I were a man, I’m pretty sure I would grow a beard.
- I’m really sad for Natasha Richardson’s family.
- Last week, I found a watercolor of an owl that I made when I was 6.  It is RAD.  I framed it and hung it over my bed.  Not to toot my own horn, but I was like a young Picasso.  Toot, toot.
- For some reason, no one reads my blog on Thursdays.  It is very strange.  Readership plummets on Thursday every single week.
- A kick in the ass is a step forward.
- It is noon, and time to get dressed.

Churning Brain from Annie Parsons on Vimeo.

All the single ladies
My pal Andy Merrick just posted the beginning of a 3-part series entitled “Why Guys Aren’t Asking You Out.” Andy is one of my favorite people to read, and this first installment had me laughing out loud. In fact, I was still in bed this morning, barely awake, reading until I giggled – at which point Julie yelled up the stairs (remember, I have no bedroom door), “Annie! Are you crying??”

Hey. A totally fair question.

I am excited to hear more of his thoughts in the coming days – and to read any comments you may have on the subject. Let Andy know what you think…

Lit at work
All of the lights in our gigantic, sprawling office space are operated by motion sensors – as long as there is movement in the room, the lights stay on. Because of this, when walking from room to room to set up for lunches or fetch cups of coffee for visitors, I feel as powerful as God: LET THERE BE LIGHT… and there was light.

However, this feature is significantly less cool when I have been sitting completely and utterly motionless at my desk for so long that the lobby lights just… go out. And then, even MORE significantly less cool when I, the Temptress, sitting in my T.J. Maxx version of “business professional” in the darkness of the silent room, frantically wave my arms above my head.

Let there be light, indeed.

And as a final FYI…
When I sneeze, the crystal vase on the desk rings. It is legit.