I’m still alive.  I’m here.  But I have been a blogging failure lately.  Let me see if I can catch you up a little bit.

After writing songs in Nashville all weekend, I began my Valentine’s Day by walking into the Nashville office and surprising my co-workers.  “It’s a Valentine’s miracle!” said Emily, because she is the cutest.

I flew back to Denver to find all of the ice and snow melted.  After several weeks of sub-zero temperatures, I’ve welcomed the 60 degree weather like I would a visit from… something… warm… and sunny.

I am suddenly overwhelmed at all that the next few months will hold.  Between now and the end of April, you might find me in Denver, Haiti, Southern California, Montrose, Boston, Kansas City, or Nashville.  My goal to *stay put* in 2011 hasn’t really been coming true.

I am still looking for a car.

Last night, I made mango chicken curry that really didn’t taste good at all.  I’m not too proud to admit utter and complete failure.  The chicken was overcooked and the onions were undercooked, and I accidentally flung couscous all over the kitchen floor (“accidentally” being superfluous, since who ever means to fling couscous?).

This weekend will be a hunting and gathering mission – just call me Sacagawea (unnecessary? Probably).  I’m getting ready for my trip to Haiti, and leave a week from Friday.  Since there is no Haitian mail system in place, we can’t mail anything to Sarah – so I am filling her list of “wants,” including blueberry muffin mix and hot chocolate and toiletries.

Work has been keeping me busy, and when the whistle blows, the last thing I want to do is spend more time online.  So naturally, I’m behind on personal emails and blogging and such.  If anything exciting happens, I promise I’ll write about it – but if I don’t, it’s safe to assume that I’m just plugging along, living quietly, trusting Frederick Buechner’s words that “all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.”

It’s Monday morning, and deliciously stormy outside.  I look out the office windows to the east, where the land stretches flat all the way to Kansas, and see clouds the color of polished steel.  I’m alone at work this week, sipping on hot tea to placate the angry porcupine that wants to nest on my throat.

Yesterday at church, I saw 6 people whose names I knew.  I got hugs from 4 of them.  It’s nice to have people who know your name.

Later on, as I drove up a windy road to Evergreen, what’s left of the leaves on the trees blustered and blew, twinkling in the wind, matching the shade of the double-yellow lines on the blacktop.  I found a network of trails and went on an easy hike, dreamed of having a dog, and watched the sky as it did things like this.

It’s easy to feel small and alone – but that doesn’t mean that we have to feel afraid.

Wow.

Ever since last Monday’s blog, you have returned day after day, expecting to see something new posted.

But NO.  Here a crotch, there a crotch, everywhere a crotch, crotch – day after day after day.

My most sincere apologies for the assault on your eyes for an entire week.  Last Monday night brought some sudden news that took me out of town for the rest of the week – I’m sure that I’ll unpack some of that in the coming days.

In the meantime, spring has DONE SPRUNG here in Denver.  I returned on Saturday to trees in full bloom and 70 degrees of sunshiny weather.  I don’t have to wear a coat anymore, and I am sneezing like the dickens (whatever that means).  I would be tempted to get outside and do some more hiking, but I’m home just long enough to repack my bags and fly to Nashville tomorrow night for two weeks.  I have a half-marathon to run on Saturday, and will spend some time working from the Nashville office.

Let’s talk about books.  After several false starts, I am finally reading “The Poisonwood Bible.”  Any recommendations for summer reading?  You’d better believe I’ll be reading “Beatrice and Virgil” – I can’t wait.

If you haven’t read these, I suggest:
“Plainsong”
“The History of Love”
“Water for Elephants”
“Peace Like a River“

The Colorado air is dry.

This parched feeling is all-pervasive, making itself known in every part of my body.  My skin is the Sahara, my eyeballs, sandpaper.  I smile, and my bottom lip splits like the back of Chris Farley’s coat.  My hands are cracking, my cuticles flaking.  I cannot drink enough water.

Short from slathering myself with lard, there’s not much I can do about it.  Still, I will take dry over humid any day.

Denver is incredibly sunny – over 300 days a year of sunshine.  Right now, even though it’s 16 degrees outside, the light is intense.  Seattle being my one true love, this brightness is an adjustment for me.   My eyes are wimpy and require sunglasses basically all the time.  I’m wearing sunscreen like it’s my job; being a mile closer to the sun than I was before, I walk down the block and come back pink.  I need to get a hat – I’m sensitive, folks.  Even my lips are freckled.

I am suspicious that every person I see out and about is an Olympic athlete.  Denver is a ridiculously active city – even more than Seattle, it seems.  Everyone looks young and healthy and fit and strong.

And having run 7.6 miles at a Mile High altitude yesterday morning, I dare say that I fit right in.

Speaking of health, on Friday night, I got a bee in my bonnet.  And after a 2-hour wait at the very fabulous Root Down, I GOT MY BEET SALAD THANKYOUVERYMUCH.

It was not nearly as good as Fuel’s.  But the cheese plate and wine made up for it.

So… scratch that thing I said about “health.”

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.

So much has happened in the last day!

First of all, the helium balloon.

WHAT.

Is this the weirdest story ever?  First of all, that this Jiffy Pop contraption actually existed – and in someone’s backyard, no less.  Secondly, that the entire country was thrown into a frenzy when it was reported that there was a 6-year old boy inside, adrift.  And his name was FALCON.

When I found out that he was okay, that he had been hiding the entire time, I was in the airport getting boarding a flight to Boston.  My mom called me and told me that they found him hiding in the garage attic.  And when I hung up the phone, I got all teary – because this is amazing?  This is the best news ever?  And I am PMSing?  So leave me alone.

But then!  I arrive in Boston to the news that it’s gotten even weirder!  The family had been on “Wife Swap” – the show that makes Jon & Kate look like Ward & June Cleaver.  And when asked why he didn’t come out of hiding when he heard his name being called, little Falcon said, “You guys said we did this for the show.”

Oh, snap!  Right there on “Larry King Live”!

I’ll choose to just be happy that he’s okay, because this could turn into a circus.

Anyhoo.

I’m in Boston!  And this is the weather.

It’s putting a damper on my plans, since today was meant for some solo exploring outside on foot while my friends are busy.  But you know what?  I’m going to do it anyway.  Here’s where I’m going to go walk in the freezing rain right now:

Doesn’t that look like fun?  Walking out into the middle of the ocean??  Around PLEASURE BAY?

And now that I have spent 20 minutes creating a map with arrows that, at this point, is useless to anyone but me, I just want to point you toward one last thing.

My littlest sister, Sarah, is in her last year of nursing school.  The things that nurses know, and know how to do, blows my mind – the medical realm is so far outside my small scope of knowledge.  Last night, she wrote a post about an experience that had me riveted.  I can’t believe how much she has experienced, the lives she is making a difference in, and the incredible path she has chosen.  I am bursting with pride.

“A day away can transform uncertainty and renew the spirit.”
-Maya Angelou

I am currently dog-sitting for a delightful dog named Shelby.  She jumps the fence and eats band-aids out of the trash can, but I like her anyway.  Yesterday morning, I took her to the dog park to let her run, and she immediately befriended a greyhound.  She chased it around, but unfortunately, did not have the capacity to understand that she was chasing a GREYHOUND, so she never quite caught up.

Shelby has no idea that she’s just a little mutt.

Sometimes, I wish that I didn’t know my limitations – that I felt free to run as hard and fast as I can, giving no thought to my deficiencies or how I stack up against others – just completely at rest with who I am.

I should take a lesson from the little mongrel.

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And now, tidbits worth mentioning but not really worth blogging about:

1) People, the weather.  My stars.  Last year, this didn’t happen until October 2 – but I am thrilled to report that this year, the change happened a few days early.

2) I have never seen anything so magical.  Is this too good to be true? Because I am coveting like you would not believe.

3) I finished my EP.  I’m listening to it right now on my headphones!  This IS worth blogging about, just not yet.  Stay tuned – I cannot wait for you to hear it.

4) And I know that you’ve been on the edge of your seat all weekend, so: no, I still have not barfed since I was 14.  Don’t you worry your pretty little head for one tiny second.  All better.  Back at work.  Just caused a coffee flood in the kitchen.

Everything is back to normal.

After racing my dad to the top of Mt. Roberts in Juneau on Sunday, I spent some time walking around the town.  Which, of course, led to an interesting encounter – because do I ever elude the interesting encounters?

I met a greasy man on a street corner who took one look at me, and immediately, very excitedly – in one breath – said, “How long are you in town? Do you live here?  I’M A ROCK STAR!”

He proceeded to walk me back to the ship, and claim that he is not only a rock star, but a genius, a friend of the governor, and insane.  I believed him on one account.

After hearing that I live in Nashville, he informed me that he is moving to Nashville, and has a goal of getting a record deal by November 1 (“and by the way, do you think you could set me up with Michael W. Smith?”).  He gave me his phone number and his MySpace address, saying that I could spend “several months” on his MySpace page, there is so much to see.  He talked and talked and talked, spewing out eccentricities and grand statements about life, and without skipping a beat, ended with, “You know what?  Meeting me might be the highlight of your trip.”

I high-fived him, because maybe, dude.

But I’m leaning toward the night when the Parsons walked out onto the front deck of the ship while in open seas, thinking we could get some fun pictures, but not being prepared for the amount of SHEER TERROR the wind would bring, and after all of our dresses had blown up revealing whatever we had underneath, and hitting the deck to avoid being blown over the edge entirely, and Sarah’s driver’s license flying into the Pacific Ocean, and everyone holding hands for stability, and screaming our lungs out, and tears streaking our faces… realizing that the entire navigational crew was watching from their windows above.

No rock star, genius, insane man from Juneau can compete with the involuntary flashing of Polynesian men.

One month from now is now one week from now.

Oh, Pacific Northwest.  Save me from today’s forecast.

I thought that maybe – maybe – my second Nashville summer might feel a bit more manageable than my first.  But to be frank, it’s hellacious.  I feel angry all the time.

I DO enjoy the fireflies, though.  They don’t get old.

I’m REALLY loving white wine this year, for the first time ever.

And… well, unless you can give me more, those are the only reasons I can think of to look on the bright side of the summer.

Yesterday, I worked Ye Olde Temp Job until about 3:30, and as I was walking out to my car, I thought to myself, “Tut tut, looks like rain.”  I was wearing a white button-down shirt, and decided against a stop at the grocery store, because what if it rains?  And my shirt becomes see-through?  Kroger is not ready for that.

Harris Teeter, perhaps – since they have already seen other things.

But not Kroger.  The little lambs.

So I drove home.  And as I did, the thunder and lightning began.  I had the distinct thought, “What if I am struck by lightning today?”  That morning when I woke up, I didn’t think this shall be the day that I shall be struck by lightning – but I bet every person who has ever been struck by lightning would say the same thing.  I totally freaked myself out.

There were tornados in Nashville yesterday.  I’ve never lived in a place with tornados before, so I don’t really have any idea what the protocol is.  Go to the basement, I suppose?  Except our basement floods when it rains.  And I have visions of being like Leo in “Titanic,” chained to a pipe in a lower-level holding room, trapped as the water rises higher and higher… and I CAN’T GO UPSTAIRS BECAUSE I WILL DIE BY TORNADO.

But… well.  It was totally fine.  I am alive.  I never saw a tornado.  Wasn’t struck by lightning.  Didn’t drown.

Guys.  Sometimes I just like to write dramatically about minuscule, harmless, meaningless details of my day.