I drove to Kansas City this weekend – and you know what that means:

On the road again from Annie Parsons on Vimeo.

I’m sorry that the video was only 52 seconds long, but… no, you know what, no I’m not.  That’s about all you need to be subjected to.

Besides this (glorious) video, the only other eventful things that happened on the drive were watching a bird get completely OBLITERATED by a Camry (we’re talking: cloud of feathers, body ricocheted into the median), and calling Becca in a panic to ask who the fifth member of the Backstreet Boys was (why did I forget about Howie? Oh. Probably because he’s Howie).

When I showed up for Sarah’s college graduation, my mom told me I looked like a flower.  I kind of felt like a flower.

Micah and Tyler have their summer buzz cuts, and it’s clear that they adore their aunties.

Sarah is now officially a college graduate and a real live nurse.  We have her with us back in Colorado for a few weeks, but she has a one-way ticket to Haiti next month.  Little sister, prepare to be smothered by us.

I’m sorry that I don’t write about health care or anything important at all.

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I have an announcement to make:

I MADE A FRIEND!  I know, high-five.

His name is Chris – some of you out in blog land even know him – and he is a darling.  He came over for DiGiorno Pizza last night, and then I sent him home with cookies.

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Also, there’s this:

First Day from Annie Parsons on Vimeo.

That’s my mom and her neighbor boys on the first day of school in 1961.  So cute, huh?  I hope my kids have red hair.

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At the gym last night, I saw a very skinny girl walking through the weight machines toward the locker room with a gigantic pair of hedge shears.  Just needed to tell someone.

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My current favorite word is “bunk.”  You know, as in, “That’s a load of bunk!”  Also: bunk-beds. Also: bunko.

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On Monday night, I will be seeing Patty Griffin play at the Paramount Theater here in Denver.  And if you never hear from me again, it’s because she played “Goodbye” and I melted into a puddle and was soaked up by the sidewalk.

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I cannot believe that Miley Cyrus was the “mentor” on American Idol this week.

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I cannot believe that Miley Cyrus is famous, period.

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Do you have any idea how much I want a milkshake?

You thought that I was your favorite Annie.

Well, my little sweeties, prepare to forsake me for another.

I have this friend Annie Downs.  You probably already read her blog – but if you don’t, you should start.  Because people, this girl has got it going on.

Annie and I decided to swap videos, giving each other tours of our new homes.  After I moved to Denver, she moved across town in Nashville – and not knowing where she is?  Has been killing me a little bit.

But it doesn’t have to kill you!  Here she is, giving you a tour of her new place.

If you’re curious to see where I’ve been hanging my hat (proverbial hat, that is – I don’t actually own a hat), head over to AnnieBlogs.com to see my happy little home.

And… what’s that?  You can’t get enough of the Annies?  Don’t worry – we’re archived.

Yesterday, my favorite Handy Graham gave me a ring – not a diamond ring (I should be so lucky), just a phone call.

We shot the breeze for a few minutes, and then he asked, “How’s it going there?  Are you doing okay?”  It was earnest and sincere.  My eyes stung for a few seconds, I blinked a few times to compose myself, and then told him.

For the rest of you, I bucked up and made a video.

Denverado from Annie Parsons on Vimeo.

It was -12 (that would be MINUS TWELVE DEGREES) when I woke up this morning.

Surely, you’ve been missing my face.

Here you go – to tide you over until we meet again (or ever) (or never) in the flesh.

Significant Fog from Annie Parsons on Vimeo.

And now, let us soldier on through Monday.

Behold, the return of the deadbeat blogger!

I mean, seriously.  It’s embarrassing.  I have been like an unfit mother – one who leaves her kids in the car while she hits up the Safeway for PBR and tampons.  I have abandoned this blog in the parking lot for far too many days – and in the meantime, not written a single word of ANYTHING.

But really, can you blame me?  I was busy fulfilling MY LIFE DREAM.

If you’ve been reading this site for longer than two minutes, you’ll know that I’m a songwriter, and that the jewel of my heart (um, yes, I just called it “the jewel of my heart” – so?) is the Bluebird Café.  Back in October, when I was invited to play there (can we all just squeal one more time?), June 21 felt so far away.  But before I knew it, my parents were flying in, Greta was surprising me on my doorstep the day before (listen – can you hear me scream?), I was trying on 96 different outfits, and then, all of a sudden, staring out at the lights.

This is what it looks like when dreams come true.  (Thanks to Deb for the picture!)

And this is what it sounds like.  (Thanks to AnnieBlogs for recording!)

And here are best friends.

And here are just a few of the most wonderful cheerleaders.

And here are amazing parents.

And here is a man with a mullet in a SweetTarts shirt.

Because this is Hootenannie.com – where the blogs end strong.

I had high hopes of documenting my solo-trip to Louisville, Kentucky, on Saturday.

I know, I know – you’re like, why did she go to Louisville by herself? Don’t question me, people.  A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do – and sometimes that means abandoning her friends, turning off her phone, and driving to Kentucky alone.

I had every intention of making an awesome, witty, hysterically amusing video.  You all were going to watch it, and tell your friends about it.  Guys would fall in love with me, girls would want to be me, children would give their lives to Jesus because of me.

Instead, this is the only footage I got.

The Worst Thing About Sunglasses from Annie Parsons on Vimeo.

The rest of the day belongs to me.

Before getting roommates this past December, I lived alone for 5 years.  I cannot remember a time that I was ever scared to live by myself.  But last night, I started to wonder… why?

I’m still house-sitting, and when it was close to midnight and I was in bed working on the computer, one of the dogs sat straight up and started growling.  He made his way to the doorway to the hall, and then started barking ferociously.

I knew that someone was in the house.

I knew that he was coming down the hall.

I knew that I should have made Charlton Heston my president.

I sat there frozen as Lucky the dog ran down the hall and out to the living room.  Then everything fell silent.

That’s when I got TERRIFIED.

Because I started hearing whispers – like the smoke monster from “Lost.”  So not only is there someone in the house, but he is a Jedi of canines, and is putting Lucky into a trance, and if he can do that to a yellow Lab, then what can he do to me?  I’m going to wind up with a tracking device injected into my neck, brainwashed, telling people that my name is Kiki Van Alsteen and assassinating foreign officials.

But instead of finding myself a weapon and going on a man-hunt, I told myself that I was crazy, and turned out the light.  And fell asleep completely petrified – like, blankets-pulled-up-to-my-chin, eyes-squeezed-shut, peeing-my-pants scared.

Can you say “avoidance”?

This morning, I forgot that I had to go to work.  I was in the middle of a dream that Taylor Swift was holding her CD release party at my old Music Row apartment, and thousands of people were lined up on the sidewalk outside my home (I was going to make them take off their shoes at the door).  My alarm kept going off, but I guess that I kept snoozing, because when the dream reached a crescendo and the other Annie had won a lunch at P.F. Changs with Taylor Swift herself, I was already a half an hour late for work.

But none of that is important.  Behold!  Today, I have a video.

Warning: I may have discovered sound effects.

I know.  Get excited.

Productivity and Boredom from Annie Parsons on Vimeo.

If you’re regularly on the World Wide Internet, which most of us are, then I’m sure that you’ve already seen these two videos.  But if you haven’t, you should: two of the most influential songs from my childhood, brought to life in a new way.  Both made me all teary eyed.

Sometimes I wonder what true, true love looks like.  And I think it looks like this, and this.  It’s not the sexy fantasy that we are conditioned to expect; it is deeper, and quieter, and messier.  And, oddly enough, better.  Not that I would know, or anything, but – you know.  It sounds like.

And speaking of twos, here are two of my favorite “Twos.”

The roomies, Mel and Julie.

The nephews, Tyler and Micah.

Have a fantastic two days of weekend!

I come from a family of nomads, with someone always moving and roaming and starting over. For the past 5 ½ years, my parents have been planted in Kansas City, and eventually, all of my siblings followed. My older brother and his family are there. My two younger sisters are there. I’ve been the one rogue for quite some time, living on my own in Seattle, and now, in Nashville.

But my parents are shifting again – this time, to Colorado Springs in May. Sister Becca is moving to Ft. Collins in a few weeks. And once again, the Parsons will be scattered across the country like a constellation.

I’m back in Kansas City this week to help my family sift through the junk items in their house, thin out their possessions, rip off wallpaper, and throw away anything ugly or useless. All I will say about this process is that I’m glad that it’s happening now – because if we waited another 30 years until my parents are gone, I’m pretty sure that the pile of detritus would be so large, the only solution would be to strike a match and burn it down.

I am also here to become the sole bearer of my possessions, and take them back to Nashville with me. Ever since early childhood, I’ve put any important mementos in the sacred “Blue Bin” – basically the Ark of the Covenant, in Rubbermaid form. Last night, I opened up the bursting box to see what was inside… and this is what I found.

What I Found in the Blue Bin from Annie Parsons on Vimeo.

I kept the good things – and there were definitely treasures – but needless to say, MUCH was trashed. I have no need for old high school band programs, or ticket stubs from Colorado Rockies games, or sketches of CareBears, or pink “participant” ribbons from art fairs, or homemade ceramic pots with dolphins painted on the side.

Or my old teeth or hair, as it were.