This afternoon, I walked from Beacon Hill to the Back Bay, and then over to Cambridge to explore Harvard, and finally, back to Beacon Hill. It was about an 8-mile walk, and it felt good to stretch my legs after, you know, quitting exercise this fall. Boston is beautiful, and if I wasn’t so set on Nashville, I would seriously consider moving here.

Sadly, I did not spot any “Harvard Hotties” in Cambridge. In fact, I realized that a significant part of the Harvard population is made up of college freshman – and I just can’t “go young.” I walked around the campus for awhile, but eventually was intimidated by the electricity of brain waves in the air, so I bought myself a coffee and left.

Christina took me to Pizzeria Regina in the North End for dinner, which is billed as being the “World’s! Best! Pizza!” We were not disappointed. They even gave us our Sangiovese in big tumblers.

We ended our night by watching “The Departed,” with a Boston mob history lesson from Dan, Christina’s husband. It was the best kind of day: walking for miles and miles, only to eat well in the evening, and watch some serious Scorsese carnage.

Boston, my booty – and my belly – thank you.

“I mean, how ironic is this: I’m a ROOFER, and I got SHINGLES.”

Pure poetry.

I am convinced that the loneliest feeling in the world is walking through the streets of New York on a Sunday morning all by one’s self, pulling over 100 lbs. of luggage, and having to navigate the stairs down into the subway. Oh, and then to eject said self from the train straight back up the stairs into Chinatown, and lug one’s belongings like a pack mule, searching for the Fung Wah bus to Boston – which, by the way, provides no guarantee that it will make it to Boston without exploding on the freeway or blowing a tire. A regular occurrence, I’m told.

Thus began my morning.

When I finally arrived at the ticket window, my hands were blistered from pulling my bags, and I could scarcely sign my name on the form for my shaking extremities. I loaded my suitcases onto the bus, and boarded.

This is where I realized that God never wastes anything. Thinking back to September, my sister’s dog Gabe barfed on the backseat of my car, and I almost barfed right on top of it. I now know that that unsavory event was simply in preparation for the smell on-board the Fung Wah. It was as if the good Lord gave me an early, preparatory dosage of repulsive stench to ready and steady me for today’s odor.

Luckily, I secured a window seat, and wound up sitting behind two teenage kids who were sharing one set of iPod earbuds and a box of Frosted Flakes. Note to self: do not chew dry cereal in public. The crunch very well could earn you a good throttling.

The hoodlum behind me failed to silence the obnoxious ringer on his cell phone, and talked continuously to his various homies. “Yo, dawg, what up? Ah, I’m on the bus. You know how it is.” Sir? Do they, really?

We embarked on what can only be described as a terrifying journey in a glorified sardine can, hurtling across New England. But how can I complain? For $15 and in just 4 hours, it got me where I was going: Boston, to Christina’s Beacon Hill apartment, with exposed brick walls, and wine and cheese and olives waiting on the table.

More about the end of my New York adventure tomorrow. Until then, Boston beckons.

My name is Annie Parsons, and this is the longest day of my life.

I am finally home after a 2 1/2 hour subway adventure, trying to make my way home to Heidi’s. I left my friends Sarah and Alex’s place at 11:15, and thought, “I can make it back – no problem.” I would have, too, if the train didn’t straight up STOP RUNNING. Everybody off. No more service. This train is returning to Queens.

Luckily, I was saved by this man, who I followed like a little lost puppy to a bus. He graciously gave me directions to where I needed to go. In return, I told him how to find my blog (shameless advertising to strangers in New York). So if he finds it, HI KEITH!

Other than the long journey home tonight, my day was filled with friends, and food, and enough walking to bore a remarkable hole in each heel. It will be a miracle if I make it to Boston still standing.

Holy gigantic city.

I suddenly feel the need to type like a 13-year old girl. OMG – NYC is like, sooooooo khool!!!

This morning, Heidi left early for work, leaving me on my own to navigate my way from Brooklyn to Manhattan. Armed with nothing but a little map and a few notes she had left me with important intersections and subway transfers, I set out to conquer the City.

On the elevator ride down from Heidi’s apartment, a small, balding, greasy character stepped in. I could feel him staring at me, so I stared at the floor. But curiosity got the better of me, so I lowered my eyelids in a slow blink, and when I opened them again, I was looking straight at him.

“Hi Jen,” he said.

“I’m not Jen,” I replied.

“You’re not? But I wrote you a letter and slipped it under your door last night.”

“Oh. I’m not Jen.”

Long, long silence. Long, long elevator ride. I decided to ease the tension with a question.

“How long have you lived in the building?”

He got very excited. “Since 1995. That’s 12 years.” That’s right, Trigger. “And if you put 12 over 100, that reduces to 3 over 25.”

I calculated in my head, and determined, “Yeah, that’s right. Wow – you’re fast.”

“I know. It’s what I do – I reduce fractions. I can do it more quickly than anyone else I know.”

Once again, I attract these people. I’m kind of glad that I do – my life might be boring, otherwise. I would have to pick up some weird hobby, like squash or, God forbid, rubber stamping.

Today was so great. I grinned for the first two hours or so, shielded from the cold by my puffy jacket and boots, walking and walking and walking. My knee held up just fine – save the trips up and down the stairs to the subway. I’m out of Band-Aids, so… we’ll see how it looks tomorrow. Right now, it just feels hot. If I get gangrene and die, please donate my organs.

To be honest – and honestly vain – I was nervous about the whole “fashion” issue of New York. I don’t own anything “in” enough to wear here – or so I thought. It turns out that I had a false image of New York – one fueled by images of Paris and Nicole and LiLo. The actuality is that people where whatever the hell they want, from a coat with jeans to a sari with a hoodie. And after experiencing today’s frigid air, I didn’t care what I was wearing, so long as it included gloves.

Times Square is like Disneyland on steroids. An absolute assault on the senses, I am happy that I saw it… once. I don’t really feel the need to see it again, unless, of course, it included another trip to “The Lion King.”

I had the most awesome seat for the matinee show, probably because my request was, “Just one. Yes, I’m here alone. Because I’m single – probably forever. It’s okay though – cheaper Broadway tickets, this way.” And from the opening lines of “The Circle of Life,” I was this emotional puddle. I cried and cried – the entire production was SO BEAUTIFUL. I do not have words for it, so I will not even try. The only thing I can say is that there is something so incredible about seeing people doing what they were meant to do – and this entire production was done so well. If you ever get a chance, please go see this show.

Heidi and I met up with my buddy from high school, Reid, and his friend Zachary, for dinner. We ate delicious Thai food in Greenwich Village, and then went to the Dessert Truck for $5 desserts. Reid got a hot chocolate that was basically liquid hot fudge, and after one sip, I think I could be satisfied for the rest of my life.

After hours of travel yesterday, and even more hours of travel today, I disembarked the plane, gathered my luggage, walked through the sliding glass doors, victoriously breathed in the air… and promptly tripped. Fell on my face, deeply skinning both knees and tearing my new jeans.

Welcome to New York.

My left knee is especially bad – a huge goose egg of a welt threatening to burst through my pants, and a deep cut that almost caused me to bleed to death on the hour-long subway ride from the airport. Maybe I’m a sissy, but it hurts. It hurts to walk, it hurts to bend, it hurts to lower my body down into a chair. Luckily, my sweet friend Heidi provided me with Neosporin, a huge bandage, and an icepack, and I have been able to pick the cotton scraps and gravel from the wound. We’ll see if I’m recovered enough to take the City by foot tomorrow.

First stop: “The Lion King.” Naaaaaa – sa – bwen – yaaaaahhh!!!

Well, hello, pretties. Were you beginning to think I had abandoned you?

Never.

My deepest apologies for taking a few days off from blogdom. The Giving of Thanks took up much of the last couple of days. My holiday can be summed up as thus: all 9 members of my immediate family in my parent’s Kansas City house, plus my dear friends Mary and Rebekah in from Seattle and Omaha, respectively. We ate, drank, and were merry. We watched movies. We played with the little guys, the nephews. We shopped. We walked. We had a cheese plate THREE DAYS IN A ROW.

But now, on to today’s big event.

Throughout my life, I have had a wish list of a few things that I hope to someday – someday – purchase. It has been a long-shot of a list, which in the past has included things like a computer (check), a set of sharp knives (check), and a pair of black leather boots (oh yeah). I have taken a painfully long time to save up for those purchases, and have never regretted the money spent. Still on the list is a digital SLR and a Mazda 3. But today, my wish list has gotten just a little bit shorter, because…

I bought a Martin guitar.

And you guys? It is gorgeous. A spruce top, rosewood backing and sides, mahogany neck, and ebony fretboard. The sound is crisp and punchy and full and bright, and the inside of the case is that classic Martin green. I form a chord with my left hand, and strum with my right, and the sound that happens is downright musical.

What have I ever done to deserve the many, many gifts that I have been given? I’ll never know. But I do know that I am thankful, and that I’ll need to get to work to make myself worthy of this Martin. Let the guitar practice begin.

Driving flies past when you have a purpose. Yesterday, my purpose was to get from Nashville to Kansas City in time for my nephew Micah’s 4th birthday party.

I cannot believe that he is 4. I cannot believe that it has been 4 years since the cold night when I stood on the sidewalk outside the Guild Theater in Seattle and listened to a message from my mom, telling me that he was here. The introduction of Micah and Tyler into the Parsons family has set my heart on a carnival ride, and made me aware of just how much love I am capable of.

If I love my nephews this much, how much more will I love my own children? There is no way to comprehend it.

Micah and Tyler are obsessed with Thomas the Tank Engine. Now, that’s all well and good… if you like pansy trains with British accents. I knew that Micah would be receiving plenty of Thomas paraphernalia from others, and I wanted to get him something flashy, something bold, something rad. And when I found a REMOTE CONTROL TARANTULA… well…

Micah’s Tarantula from Annie Parsons on Vimeo.

The birthday boy with his Auntie Rah Rah:

Then Micah got the camera and snapped a shot:

And of course, these boys could only come from two majestic human beings:
It is good to be a part of the Parsons family. Right, Micah and Tyler? You’ll learn…

This is my third stint in Nashville this fall, and am I ever glad. When I pulled into town on Tuesday night, I had an odd sense that, “Ah, I’m home.” Is that strange? Seattle will always feel like home to me, but that does not mean that another place can’t feel equally “right.”

I like it.

Yesterday morning I spent a good three hours at a coffee shop called Portland Brew, which is cool for several reasons: 1) the coffee is great, 2) the parking lot is full of beater cars with Apple stickers on them, and 3) the people-watching is fantastic. So, there I am, type-type-typing away, when all of a sudden something scratched my wrist. What? I look down at my computer and see that HOLY COW MY COMPUTER IS BROKEN. The plastic had straight-up cracked, and was hanging off the edge like a hang-nail.

Now, you must understand that in my mind, this event translated to, “I am so sorry to be the bearer of bad news. I cannot say for certain, but there is a good chance that your ability to speak, hear, and see are about to be ripped away from you. I am not sure that you will ever regain a portal to the outside world.” Without my computer, I am… I am nothing.

So I emailed my new friend Cameron and asked him for directions to the nearest Apple store. He sent me in the direction of the Green Hills Mall.

Things I learned at the Green Hills Mall:
1) There is an Apple store, and they have the ability to fix my computer for $0.00. Word to the wise: invest in AppleCare. It is soooooo worth it.
2) There is a Macy’s, and they sold me a shirt for $0.01. So what if it’s an ugly striped polo. I bought it so I could write about it in my blog.
3) Alison Krauss shops there. I would know, because I WALKED RIGHT PAST HER. This is my new reality.

I am so grateful that when I move here in January, I will already have the lay of the land, have met some wonderful people, and feel connected to the social scene.

Now, if only I could find a place to live and a job…

No time for that. I’m going to meet friends for a Predators game.

Alabama. How can I possibly encapsulate my brief time here into a blog post?

After an 8 hour drive from South Carolina, I arrived in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, home of University of Alabama and the man, the myth, the legend: Mike McEvoy. McEvoy and I first met in the fall of 2004 while on the Student Leadership team at the Inn, the college group at University Presbyterian Church in Seattle. I was the worship leader, and he was the resident UW football playing man’s man. We hit it off from the beginning.

McEvoy is down here in his second year of starting a college ministry through Young Life. I was excited to know that I would get to hear him speak at Club – but then imagine my excitement when he asked if I would sing! This officially makes The Big Trip double as my nationwide tour.

As I listened to Mike give a talk on a portion of the Sermon on the Mount, I just felt so proud to be his friend. He is an engaging speaker with substantial things to share, and funny. He is working so hard with this new ministry, and putting so much time and effort into getting to know students. And he’s doing an awesome job. The students adore him and swarm around, longing for dating advice, and he has this gift of making every person feel welcome and valued. We had some awesomely hilarious conversations with kids after Club at Wendy’s over Frosties and fries.

As for Alabama, it proved itself to stay true to many of my preconceived stereotypes. For example, I heard Toby Keith’s “Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue” no less than THREE times in one afternoon. I don’t think I’d heard it even once in the last two years in Seattle – and thank God.

McEvoy took me to dinner at a shanty called Nick’s in the Sticks, which is basically a lean-to burger joint out in the middle of nowhere. I ordered a cheeseburger, and it came slathered with American cheese; come to find out, American cheese is the only kind of cheese Alabama knows. As we waited a long time for our food (remember, Mike reminded me, this is the South – no one is in a rush), I watched a team of miniature Budweiser Clydesdales pull a model wagon round-and-round on a Lazy Susan hung from the ceiling. And I learned the difference between the Atlanta Braves “A” and the University of Alabama “A.” Don’t mix them up.

At the Young Life gathering, one kid told me that I look like a backup singer from Steely Dan. Only in Alabama would an 18-year old kid know to liken me to someone from Steely Dan. Oh, and “not the young one,” he added. Awesome.

We also went off-roading in McEvoy’s 4-Runner. All over the CAMPUS LAWN. How much more redneck can you get? I felt so authentic.

I met a woman named Lurleen.

The Alabama flag was modeled after the Confederate flag. And I’ve seen many, many of both.

Alabama:
Confederate:
But I also witnessed a beautiful Southern sunset last night – yellow, peach, and slate washed across the vast sky. I was embraced by a group of students that I didn’t even know, who all want to be Facebook friends. I was given an air mattress and a pile of brand new washcloths to use. And I spent quality time with a dear friend.

Alabama, you have not seen the last of me.