So many things were old hat: the quick note of my parking row, the toiletries in Ziplocs, the train to concourse C, the weight of my book-laden purse. After all, this was my third trip in so many weeks; I am no stranger to Southwest Airlines and Denver International Airport.

But as I boarded the plane, I felt an alien sort of energy: the destination was unfamiliar.

And waking up this morning in a very plush Hilton, the unfamiliarity was confirmed. I am in New York City. Word.

Prior to today, I have only been to New York once – five years ago. Another life ago. I spent a week crashing on my sweet friend Heidi’s pull-out couch in Brooklyn, and hoofed myself all over the city with absolutely no idea what I was doing.

One night, I was on the subway around 1am when the train just… stopped. Everyone off, they said. Trouble on the tracks.

So I took the stairs up to the open air of the dark night streets, and looked around for some sign of what to do next. Street signs did me no good; I had no context for where I was, and the hint of red wine lingering around my edges wasn’t exactly helping. I figured that I would get on the bus that I saw some of my fellow/former trainmates boarding, and just see what might happen.

Inexplicably, and hours later, I made it back to Brooklyn that night, elated at my sheer moxie (when really, it was all due to a merciful stranger who nothing short of spelled out directions for me). I had had a CLOSE CALL in New York, New York, and lived to tell the tale.

Yes, I acknowledge my naiveté. But I also acknowledge the possibility of my very large face on a very tiny milk carton. Touché.

In addition, I acknowledge the fact that I just used é twice.

This week, I am in New York for a work event – something rather outlandish and fun in and of itself. But I’m extending my visit through the weekend to a) rendezvous with the one and only Valerie Morby, b) test out the services of airbnb, and c) attend “Newsies” on Broadway. If there was any weekend to be jealous of my life, this is it.

Back in August, I started the book Let the Great World Spin by Colum McCann, but wound up shelving it when life got crazy. On a flight to Austin just a few days ago (I told you – flights in abundance these days), I started reading again, and I finished it last night en route to New York.

In the last 15 pages, I underlined this: “One of the beauties of New York is that you can be from anywhere and within moments of landing it is yours.”

I’m wide open to that possibility.

These days, life is like a runaway train.  It’s like that movie “Unstoppable,” except – spoiler alert! – that train actually stopped.  It’s not still barreling out of control through Pennsylvania.  Not that I’m barreling out of control through Pennsylvania, either, but…

Okay.  Analogy over.

All I’m saying is that life has been busy and full, and it doesn’t show signs of slowing down anytime soon.  So maybe it’s less like “Unstoppable,” and more like the bus in “Speed.”  And I’m Sandra Bullock, somehow, so far, successfully navigating my way through a complicated network of roads, and thinking that I ran over a baby, but it wound up just being a baby carriage full of pop cans, and for the moment, we’re all just catching our breath.

First of all, I have news.  The Hooker House has a new addition: Becca and I have a new roommate.  She has moved into the room that used to be my home office, and if you’ve known the Parsons for any length of time, then there’s a chance you know her, too.

Her name is Hannah, and here she is as a child.

I know.  Things are about to get really good.

In other news, I’ve barely been sleeping in my own bed.  After six days at Sundance in Utah, I spent the first half of this week in Minneapolis for work.  This morning, I was supposed to fly to Seattle for a dear friend’s wedding, but Denver’s heavy blanket of snow canceled the flight.  I was rescheduled for an afternoon flight, but just got the call that they canceled that, too.

I’m not going to Seattle.  Frowny face.

My bedroom looks like a dirty bomb exploded.

I’ve switched to cash envelopes.  Dave Ramsey is really proud of me right now.  (Sidenote: I talk about Dave Ramsey like he’s a real person.  Yes, I KNOW that he’s a real person – but he doesn’t know who I am.  I talk about him like we have a personal relationship, and I imagine his reaction to all of my financial choices, sort of like when I was a kid and I imagined the various reactions to everything that I did by all seven members of the Baby-Sitters Club.  Mark my words: one day, when I’m debt free, Dave Ramsey will know who I am.  Oh yes.  He will know.)

I’m sure you’ve seen this video.  But I just have to make a point of saying that I have watched it over and over, and think it’s the greatest ever.  Dang, I miss “Veronica Mars.”

Tomorrow is my half-birthday, which means, yes, I have 6 months and 1 day left in my 20s.  I can’t wait to be in my 30s.  I’ve waited my whole life for my 30s.  People in your 30s, it’s the greatest, isn’t it?  Tell me that it’s the greatest.

And now, it’s time to figure out what my Friday is going to look like.  If it’s not going to include a trip to Seattle, then I’m sure it will consist of exciting things like “going to the gym” and “cleaning the kitchen” and “swinging by the dry cleaners.”  A little bit of snow has never scared Subaruthless.

So there I was at the Denver airport, heaving my bulging black suitcase onto the conveyor belt for the x-ray machine.  Mind you, this was just my carry-on – my REAL bag (a behemoth red Samsonite) had already been found 6 lbs. overweight at the ticket counter, leading me to put on my boots and jacket, stuff my curling iron and jewelry into my purse, and relegate various items of detritus to my smaller suitcase.

As the carry-on inched toward the x-ray machine, the TSA agent observed the swollen vessel, and made a comment that he didn’t know that it would make it through the machine.

“I know!” I laughed.  “It’s about to explode!”

And right then and there, all of the air was sucked out of Denver International Airport.

The silence coddled the word like an overindulgent mother.

Explode.

EXPLODE.

I literally clapped my hand over my mouth, realizing what I had done – and then I sprung into action.

“Haha, I mean explode with my stuff.  My STUFF – nothing dangerous, nothing sharp.  I mean, except for high heels!  Haha!”

No one else was laughing.

“Ma’am, we’re going to need to take a look in your bag.”

I was led to a sterile table where a blue-gloved person (man? woman? man?) asked, “If I open this bag, will anything harm me?”

“No!  No, not at all,” I rushed.  “All that’s in there is shoes.  Oh, and a bunch of computer things.  And I guess some snacks.”

Snacks is right.

The agent slowly, hesitantly, cautiously unzipped the suitcase, and beheld the contents.  “Ma’am, why do you have so many LÄRABARs?”

Full disclosure: there were hundreds.

“Well, those are for my co-workers in Nashville.”

“Okay…?”

And then, without further prompting, it all came tumbling out.  “I resigned with the company – just last week, actually.  I’ve been working for an email marketing company that’s based in Nashville – but I’m switching jobs.  To LÄRABAR, actually.  They’re based in Denver – I live in Denver.  I just wanted to bring my Nashville friends some bars – as a little farewell, I guess.”

There it was.  And there it is.

The suddenly indifferent agent waved me through security and all the way to Nashville, where I’ve given the bars to my friends at Emma – an understated thank you for the three years of support, camaraderie, and friendship they have given me.

Come January, I’ll join the marketing team for LÄRABAR, a brand that I have been evangelizing on my own for years.  I am leaving an incredible company for another incredible company, which is not lost on me: this basically makes me the luckiest girl in the world.  This is one of those moments where I can look back and see how the complicated, jagged-edged pieces have fit together perfectly, creating a gigantic flashing arrow, pointing me toward this next step.

So my suitcase may be emptier – but as much as my heart is tempted to feel the same (after all, I am giving up what has been a very good thing), it’s actually full to overflowing.  I will spend the next week with some of my favorite people in Nashville, and then gently close the door on what has been a beautiful season in my life.

The goodbye is bittersweet, but the future feels warm and bright.  In fact, my heart is exploding with sprinkles.

Just don’t tell TSA.

A week ago Saturday, Annie opened the front door.  I ran through it.  She had my leash out, so I knew we were going somewhere – but instead of walking around the block one time (as far as I can walk), she lifted me into her car.

I like to ride in the car.  I lean against the backseat, and breathe really hard.  I never know where we’re going, but it’s always exciting.

This time, Annie started driving, and she just didn’t stop.  For almost 14 hours, she drove.  I panted the whole time.  Annie thinks I have dragon breath, but I am not a dragon.  I am a dog.

Sometimes, we would stop at a gas station and Annie would lift me out of the car and tell me to pee.  Sometimes I would and sometimes I wouldn’t.  Annie would talk to me out loud, and say things like, “Toad, you need to pee,” but if I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t, because I am a dog and I do whatever makes sense to me.

The next day, we only drove 7 hours.  When we finally stopped, we were in a city called “Portland,” and the first place we went was a guy named Mike’s house.  Mike is very tall.  I hadn’t eaten any food since Friday because long, unexpected car rides stress me out, so Annie microwaved some white rice for me.  I ate it.

On the days that we were in Portland, Annie took me to an office that she worked from.  The first day, I was nervous because I didn’t know where I was, so I threw up on the floor.  It’s okay, though, because the floor was concrete.  Annie cleaned it up very quickly, and I wagged my tail because I felt better.

Forty-five minutes later, on those same concrete floors, I shat.  It was very un-like me, but in the moment, it just seemed like the right thing to do.  A stranger man discovered it, and went and found Annie and told her what I had done.  Annie cleaned it up as fast as she could and kept saying the words “I’m so sorry” to the people in the office.  I just smiled and wagged my tail, so no one could be very mad at me.

Portland was a wonderful city, because everyone there smelled like interesting things like incense and cigarettes, and they would stop on the street to pet me.  Portland really likes 3-legged dogs, and it’s a good thing, because I only have three legs.

A few nights later, Annie lifted me into the car again, and I started panting.  I panted for three hours until we got to a new city: “Seattle.”  I was so excited to arrive in Seattle, because we stayed at my friend Lisa’s house, and she has a backyard, and I love Lisa because she pets me so much and feeds me cottage cheese.  I was so excited to be at Lisa’s house that I ran all around the house, and even though her floors were made of a thing called “hard wood” and I slipped all over the place, nothing could stop me from running and being happy.

My time in Seattle was so nice, because Annie just worked and patted me on the head.  One night, we went to her friend Keith’s house, and it was very scary because Keith had knocked down walls in his house and was building them up again, and there were wires and tools around.  But Keith gave me a bowl of water and Annie a shot of whiskey, and everyone felt better.

On Friday, Annie didn’t work – she took a thing called a “day off.”  On this day, she went on a walk with Greta.  I couldn’t go, because Annie and Greta like to walk very far, and remember, I can only walk once around the block.  I was sad that they left me behind, so I chewed the wood around the back door of Lisa’s house.  It seemed like the right thing to do.

When Annie came back and saw what I had done, she seemed angry and sad and something called “embarrassed.”  She tried to fix the door for Lisa, and she told Lisa that she would pay for it to be fixed for real.  But no matter what she offered, she still felt sad that I had done this.  I didn’t understand why she was sad.  I just looked at her and wagged my tail, because I like Annie, and I’m happy every day and all of the minutes.

On Saturday morning, Annie put all of her things in her car, and lifted me onto the backseat.  We drove on a magnificent roadway called “I-90,” and when we crossed over Lake Washington on our way out of Seattle, I saw a tear roll down Annie’s cheek.  I think that she must love this city very much, and must have been so sad to leave.

We drove to a place called “Spokane,” and I met a baby friend named Eleanor.  I don’t think that I’ve ever had a baby friend before, but I was very nice to this baby.  She was like a person, but very small.  Also in Spokane, I saw a cat and barked as loud as I could and ran after it as fast as I could.  But I only have three legs, so I did not get very far.

The rest of the trip consisted of a lot of driving and Annie trying to learn all of the words to Nicki Minaj’s “Super Bass.”

I met many people on my trip, and everyone who meets me loves me.  But Annie says that she probably does not want to take me on a trip again.  I don’t understand, because I’m so nice and everyone likes me so much.  But Annie said that having me along was a thing called “stressful.”

Maybe it’s because I threw up inside and shat on the floor and destroyed a home.

But I am just a dog, and I do what makes sense to me.

I’m very happy to be back in Colorado.

And I know that Annie still loves me.

Since our last rendezvous, some things have happened.

1) BOOKS
When it comes to books these days, I am insatiable.

I absolutely devoured “The Hunger Games.”  This series is all the rage, and I know that a lot of you have read them.  No spoilers here, except to say that I have not enjoyed a story so much in years.  For the 8 days it took me to read all three volumes, I was nothing short of obsessed.

Just before “The Hunger Games,” I read “The Help.”  Loved it.  And I typically don’t feel this way after reading a grew book, but I’m so glad they’re making a movie, too.  When you love characters so much, you can’t help but want to see them in action.

Now, I’m reading “Ape House” by Sara Gruen, author of “Water for Elephants” (which I loved).  I’m about halfway through, and it’s so luxurious to have a book that you can’t wait to read every night.

To this day, I am the only person I know who has read “Beatrice and Virgil.”  If anyone out there has read it and wants to help a soul feel better about life, will you please tell me?  I can’t be alone with the burden of this book any longer.

2) DETROIT
I spent this past weekend in Detroit with newlyweds Matt & Julie.  Never you mind that they’ve only been married for three weeks – when they found out I was going through a hard time, they called and told me to come.  A few days later, I was there – and it was exactly what my heart needed.

What a gift to have friends who remind you of what is true about yourself, and to help you remember that it’s not really all about you anyway.

3) TOAD
The vet amputated the Toad’s leg.

Oh yes.  I guess have not mentioned it here yet, but a week ago today, our sweet dog Kodi (remember her?) was diagnosed with bone cancer.  Amputation was the best form of pain management.  So on Friday, the doctor CUT OFF HER LEG.

I swear, medicine these days.

She’s home now, and wearing a t-shirt to help protect the most gnarly incision I’ve ever seen.  She will never high-five again (sad joke).

But this little bear cub is amazingly resilient, and wagging her tail as much as ever.

As my co-worker Kelli just informed me, I am being a horrible blogger.

But hopefully, I’m being an awesome liver… as in “liver of life,” and not “organ that detoxifies.”

I’ve been all over the place – Boston, where I watched the Boston Marathon, Portland, Maine, where I ate my first lobster, Kansas City, where I bridesmaided for Juliebird, and now Nashville, where I have a very busy week of work.

You would think that all of this craziness would make for some good blogging – and for a more emotionally stable person, it probably would.  But at this point in my life’s trajectory, I don’t have much to say except hello, I think you’re great, and I’ll be back sometime – preferably after a full night’s sleep and a big glass of water.

Trust me, you want THAT version of me – and not this one.  I just need a minute.

If you were to look at the “Most Played” playlist in my iTunes*, right there at the very top of the list would be “Boston” by Augustana.  Number one.

This strikes me as very strange, since I don’t really love this song so much I want to marry it.  I mean, sure, it’s catchy – but have I really listened to it more than ANY other song on my iPod?  Seriously?  Do I have an alter ego who takes over once the earbuds are in?  I don’t believe you, iTunes.  I am baffled – flummoxed, even – as to how this has happened.

In any case, yesterday, I said, “You don’t know me, you don’t even care – I think I’ll go to Boston.”  And to Boston I went.

I love this city so much.  From the first time that I arrived here (by bus, no less), I have had a raging crush on Boston.  Something good happens to me – to my heart and to my soul – when I’m here.

And this time, lobster is going to happen to me.

- – - – - – - -

*Over on AnnieBlogs today, she’s talking about her top 5 most loved songs according to iTunes.  Hand to heart, I wrote this before I read her blog this morning.  This is just further proof that she and I are connected on a deep level, and made for each other.

Mission of Hope recently acquired 55 acres of land from the government in Bercy, which is about 30 minutes north of their main campus.  On this land, they are planning to build a school, a medical clinic, a church, an orphanage, and a conference center – a planned community.  Just like Florida!

In the meantime, Mission of Hope is occasionally sending teams to the property to run mobile medical clinics.  People in the community hear that there will be a chance to see a doctor for free, and they flock to what is currently the only building on the property – a cinder block hut – to line up and wait.

Once their paperwork is completed and their vital signs have been taken, they’re sent across the rock lot to have their private appointment in this:

This is a Clinic in a Can – an air-conditioned, single-wide trailer with two consultation rooms and a pharmacy.  After they have been seen by the doctor, they head to the pharmacy to pick up any meds they may have been prescribed, as well as a goody bag filled with soap, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and – if you’re between the ages of 15 and 60 – 6 condoms.  Along with very explicit “how-to” instructions.

I mean, doesn’t it ever cross your mind?  Sometimes don’t you wonder who the lucky illustrator of contraceptive clip-art is?

As for me, I snuggled with this chunker for awhile.

I tested for Bieber Fever by singing “Baby” – and ALL THE KIDS SANG ALONG.

And finally, I peed in a bucket.

I did it just so I could say “I peed in a bucket” on my blog.  Feel free to congratulate me on my moxie.

I’m in Haiti, and have so many things to say, I don’t know what to tell you first.

At the Miami airport, I witnessed a woman in a full-length denim jumpsuit with a zipper from the crotch to the throat.

I suppose that’s a good place to start.

- – - – - – - -

My sister Sarah speaks Haitian Creole.  I knew that she had learned the language since she moved here, but it’s a different thing to actually hear her interact with Haitians.  She is so capable, at one point, she explained in Creole to a man named Altime what I do for a living – which I can barely explain to people in English.

Then, in English, she asked Altime, “How are you?”

And he proudly answered, “I am 36-years old.”

- – - – - – - -

We heard about a group of people going to a waterfall, so we decided to join them.  We rode in a “canter,” which is basically a small U-Haul with benches in the back, and about 30 of us crowded into the closed box.  The 90-minute drive up the mountain on the pot-holed road was among the most uncomfortable things I have ever survived.  At one point, sweaty and clammy and jostled and car-sick, desperate for a perspective-shift, I thought, “At least it’s not the Holocaust.”

Yeah, Annie.  At least.

But we arrived at the waterfall, and climbed to the top, and then waded back down, one slick rock at a time.  It was beautiful and lush, and the cold water felt good on our dirty feet.

- – - – - – - -

I met Pierre, Sarah’s precious little friend.  His eyes tick-tock back and forth like a Kewpie doll, and he makes sounds like E.T., and then he looks at Sarah and smiles like this:

He is around 2 1/2, they think, and was abandoned by his mother back in September.  Sarah and her roommate Diana took him in until they were able to place him at the Hope House, an orphanage operated by Mission of Hope.  He has something similar to muscular dystrophy, so his limbs are contracted, and the cyst on his brain means that his cognition will never be much beyond what it is right now.

But that smile…

It is impossible to not fall in love with him.

- – - – - – - -

On Saturday night, as I slept peacefully, Sarah and Diana killed a rat in the bedroom.  It involved a PVC pipe and splattering blood.  I never heard a thing.  What champions.

- – - – - – - -

I left a personal storm behind in the States, and while it feels strange to be away during this time, I am thankful for the distance and perspective.  I am also thankful for you, your kind words, and your sweet friendship.

I am leaving for Haiti tonight – on the heels of the saddest week of my life.

The situation involves more people than just myself, so I won’t say much.  But this is something that began all the way back here – and now, over 8 months later, my heart is torn down the middle like a paper valentine.

I will be boarding the plane tonight a hollow shell.  I could not have planned that the timing of this trip would coincide with the events of the past few days.  I am raw and fragile and physically shaking, and easy as blowing on a dandelion, I come apart.

But I have been shown such kindness in the last few days – from friends and co-workers and even a few strangers.  Thank you for purchasing my songs, and as of today, fully funding my trip to Haiti.  Thank you for your emails and phone calls to tell me that I’m cared about.  Thank you for taking responsibilities off of my plate so I could focus on the crisis at hand.

And as inconsequential as it may seem, thank you for reading these words today.  It would have felt dishonest to not share the state of my heart as I leave – and it’s a really big deal to be able to share a little sliver of one’s struggles, even if just through writing.

Despite all I have lost this week, I am blessed.  I really am.  Next time you hear from me, I’ll be at Mission of Hope, blogging with a Haitian accent.