I don’t even remember where I was, or how I got there – but there I was, cyber-stalking a stranger.
Sadly, this is how many of my stories begin.
And I came across a random crowd picture of last Saturday’s half-marathon. Taken by a stranger, and uploaded in another stranger’s account. A sea of hundreds of people. What are the chances? But guess who was in the middle, in her bright pink East Nasty shirt?
Looking back on these pictures, it’s hard to believe that the race actually happened. But it did – and now it’s over – and I haven’t run since, making this the longest stretch I’ve gone without a run since November.
And I’m totally fine with that.
Wednesday night was Talent Night at work. We rented out the Basement, a local venue, and 14 acts proceeded to take the stage. We had singer/songwriters. We had a bellydancer. We had a girl who could “woooooo” like a siren. We had a guy in a sandwich costume.
I played. I was only going to do one song, but you get a couple of Long Islands in me, and I’m sorry, but I’m not going to stop.
But here’s the coolest thing about this week.
Remember Little Annie Parsons?
She came to Nashville.
And last night, I met – as my friend Matt calls her – my very own Muppet Baby.
The Other Parsons are wonderful, and we ate with chopsticks at P.F. Changs, and talked about homeschooling and honky tonks and Sarah Palin and the difference between “flirting” and “stalking.” Oh, to be 13 when Facebook existed…
Annie and her younger sister Katie are two of the most poised, comfortable, intelligent, interesting girls I have met – a product of good parenting, and homeschooling-gone-right, and a delightful cocktail of genes. I would choose to hang out with them over a lot of people my age.
At one point, Mr. Parsons said, “Annie?” and we both looked up and said, “Yes?”
They’re coming back in October. We’re hanging out then, too.
I love the internet, and I love The Other Parsons.