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The [weekend]

Monday, August 16th, 2010

What did I [climb]: Pike’s Peak – all by myself, and SO FAST.  Seriously, I hope this doesn’t come off as all braggy-face of me, but I scampered up the entire mountain, and barely broke a sweat.

Sir Edmund Hillary?  How about Sir ANNIE PARSONS.

What did I [burn]: the backs of my calves.  Why does this always happen?  Why doesn’t the sun wrap around to my shins, too, bathing all 360 degrees of my legs in that horrible blazing Vitamin D?  It’s a mystery, and that’s why so is mankind.  [If you get that joke, you win.]

What did I [buy]: two new pairs of Toms.  I couldn’t decide, so I bought both.  Let’s hear it for happy feet – and shoes for kids!

What did I [hear]:
the golden, dulcet voice of Jonatha Brooke – live.  Oh sweet Moses, y’all.  Do you know about this woman?  KNOW ABOUT HER.  Her “Ten Cent Wings” album is something special – trust me (and really, trust Duane, who originally spread the good news).

What did I [make]: jalapeño hummus.  My new food processor is changing my life.

What did I [feel]: so sad, and so happy.  These days, I’m feeling both, and more than ever – like the spectrum is growing, like my capacity for the extremes keeps increasing.  I wonder if this will continue as I get older – until one day, the sad and the happy will stretch out from my heart in opposite directions, hugging the globe and meeting in Madagascar.

I have a million little pieces glued together for my heart.

I don’t know that that’s a bad thing.

Perfect fit

Thursday, August 21st, 2008

In her memoir “Eat, Pray, Love,” Elizabeth Gilbert succinctly defines the human condition as simply “the heartbreaking inability to sustain contentment.”

Any attempt that I throw at happiness will eventually fade. No amount of money, power, fame, clout, success, wit, possessions, or H-O-double-T hottness is going to be enough to fulfill that eternally aching place in my spirit. I know that on my own, I cannot make and keep myself content – it’s impossible.

But I thought I would try, anyway.

Behold! My new shoes!

The picture shows the color to be greyish, but trust me, these babies are teal. As soon as I set eyes on these gems, I thought, “Now, those are Annie Shoes if I’ve ever seen them.” And since I had a gift card given to me on my birthday, they were free (thanks, Becca!).

Whoever said that you can’t buy happiness has obviously never been to Target.

Flip-flop spirituality

Monday, June 16th, 2008

Last night at church, I sang with the band. I was wearing my Kenneth Cole wedge sandals – which, incidentally, are very cute but not very comfortable – and thus towered over the other girl I was singing with. She was wearing flip-flops.

I was so jealous.

I get a lot of comments on my shoes. I own three hanging shoe-bags full, and even still, I don’t have enough room for all of my pairs. I have hiking boots and cowboy boots and black leather riding boots. I have red heels and blue heels and strappy heels and heels that never should have been invented, they are so painful. If the government ever wants to really punish a terrorist, I have a horrendous pair of black peep-toe wedges that they can make him walk around in. I’d give him a few hours before he cracked and gave up all of his information, unable to take the raw rubbing and the blisters.

My point is this: I have shoes for every occasion, and a reason for every pair. Each pair serves a purpose. I like the practicality of it all: this pair for working out, this pair for making my legs look longer, that pair for the days when nothing but flats with a green ostrich print will do.

Flip-flops, on the other hand, serve no great purpose. No purpose, that is, except comfort.

I am convinced that we can draw direct parallels between our feet and our souls. So often, I want to cover up my feet, or encapsulate them in sometimes-painful casings for the sake of vanity. I don’t want anyone to see me with my guard down, and so I mask my anxiety with leather and rubber and color. In the same way, I like to keep the ugly parts of my personality carefully contained, out of sight of the general public. I cover up my flaws with a shimmering personality and a cute bow. Or if things are really bad, I will simply elevate myself to appear above it all.

When I wear flip-flops, I am forced to not be a control freak. I can’t hide my chipped toenail polish or my calluses or my cracked heels. I can’t ward off the wet dirt creeping onto my feet from the recently watered lawn. I can’t run fast and far. It’s just me and my dirty, unglamorous feet.

But it feels good. It feels good to let it all out there, bug bites and all. It feels good to be kind to my poor, aching feet. And it feels good to not care what they look like.

So thank God for flip-flops.

…okay, and thank God for these, too.

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Bonus feature:
Here’s a little weekend update video for you, recorded yesterday afternoon. Why a video? I don’t know – because I can.

Weekend Update from Annie Parsons on Vimeo.

a) Shoes, and b) Sharing the wealth

Monday, May 28th, 2007

Certain events of this weekend have opened my eyes to some weighty issues surrounding a) what I need, and b) what I own. As in, a) what I have too few of, and b) what I have too much of. As in, a) shoes, and b) everything else.

Let us begin with a).

Seriously, I need shoes. I need shoes in the worst way. I need shoes like Lindsay Lohan needs an intervention. I was struck with this today when I put on a brown shirt, and went to look for brown shoes, and realized that I don’t HAVE any brown shoes. Are you kidding me? How do I not own a single pair of brown shoes? And how did I not know this before?

I don’t get excited about shoe shopping, and I really don’t get excited about spending money on shoes. I avoid those men in suits at Nordstrom for fear of their judgey-eyes sidling across my footwear, making a mental note of my cheap taste and low standards. Five years ago, I bought a pair of elevated Mary-Janes at Target (God bless Mossimo), and have since eBayed them. Twice. Let’s be honest: it is very embarrassing when people start noticing the duct tape on the soles of your shoes – I need to get over this pair and move on. But they were $8 on the internet! No Annie. It is time.

I recently tried on a pair of heavenly comfortable Kenneth Coles, but gasped at the sight of the price tag. So, again, I went home and eBayed the same pair. $30 – take that, suckas! Well, the joke wound up being on me when they arrived and they were KNOCK-OFFS (the audacity), and therefore nowhere near the comfort level of the originals.

My feet are torn up, blistered, bleeding, and becoming contorted due to the cheap-ass shoes that I am shoving my feet into each day. My knees, my hips, my heels are screaming at me all day, every day. Even my running shoes are demolished, and rub me raw every time I wear them. Good Lord, at this rate I might develop bunions!

sick. and. wrong.

I need a sudden wind-fall of $500 to simply silence my barking dogs, and preserve my knees and arches. I need a pair of running shoes, a pair of hiking boots, a pair of basic black shoes, a good pair of heels, and a pair of cool sneakers. Ah yes, and a pair of BROWN shoes. And I need to dish out the money for good ones.

Now, on to b).

How does one person accumulate so much junk? As I have one more month in my apartment, I am starting to sort through the detritus of my life. The name of the game is “SIMPLIFY.” If you want any stuff, I have stuff. Let me know what you want to take off my hands.