I was going to blog when I got back to Nashville yesterday.

But my fingertips were throbbing.  I couldn’t type or unbutton things or make toast.  Ok, actually.  I could make toast.  But it hurt.  But it was delicious.  I love toast.

My fingertips were throbbing because I chewed my nails to pieces on the three and a half hour drive north.

I chewed my nails because I was nervous and a wee bit stressed.

I was nervous and a wee bit stressed because I was listening to The Hobbit.  Seriously.  Am I supposed to be completely fine when Bilbo has to rescue 12 dwarfs from spider web cocoons?  He is a hobbit, people.  He’s tiny.  How does Tolkien expect Bilbo to save the day?  Sheesh.

I was listening to The Hobbit because Caroline told me it was a great book and this was the best recording of a book that has ever existed on the face of the planet.  And it is.  I’m 3/4 of the way through and I’m loving it.

And because I was home in Marietta, I went to Caroline’s house.  And because that’s how Caroline rolls, I was only there for about 7 minutes when I had a bowl of soup in my hands and the box set of The Hobbit CDs in my lap.

And yesterday I drove and listened and chewed away.  And was slightly amazed at Bilbo’s skillz.

So the fact that I didn’t write a profound and/or ridiculous and/or hilarious and/or inspirational and/or mediocre blog yesterday is Caroline’s fault.

Thanks, Caroline.  Love you.

#1. HUGGING. I don’t HATE hugging.  I just don’t choose it as my primary display of affection.  I have had more interesting conversations and emails this weekend regarding people feeling awkward about hugging me.  It’s been hilarious.  Let me clarify- it’s okay to hug me.  I will probably hug you.  It’s just not my FAVORITE past time.

#2.  GEORGIA FOOTBALL. Have I ever mentioned that my Dad went to Alabama?  Sheesh.

#3.  NASHVILLE. I am going back.  Tomorrow.  Sue me.  My mom offered up a Paula Deen recipe for dinner.  You may call that manipulation.  I call that delish-ulation.

#4.  A JOB. I got one.  An editing job that will last 8 weeks.  I’m thrilled and nauseous.  But not in that order.  Pray for me.  And sing that good ole country song, “There’s a first time for everything”.  Cause that’s what I’m singing.  Along with “PLEASE GOD HELP ME”.  It’s a new song that you may not have heard before. Because I just made it up.

#5.  HEALTH INSURANCE. I got some today.  So were my arm to get cut off tomorrow, the hospital would replace it for less than the cost of that arm plus a leg.

#6.  THANKS. For all your love and encouragement.  I feel my emotional strength returning and I’m feeling better about Nashville.  This whole following God thing?  It’s a roller coaster.  But I’m buckled in.  The hills may seem to be too much at times, but a worse fate would be to get off the ride.  His ways are always better.  So I’ll choose to trust.

#7.  THIS IS MY FAVORITE NUMBER.

Of all the love languages, how I give and receive love, I score lowest on physical touch.

Well, I take that back.  I think I probably score lower on acts of service because I’m lazy.  But I think I was feeling particularly giving the day I took the test, so physical touch came in last.

And rightfully so.  I am NOT a hugger.  I’m not a toucher.  I don’t feel more loved the longer you hug me.  I don’t feel neglected if you don’t.  I had a roommate once, whom I love dearly, but she is a physical touch person.  She drew life from just sitting close on the couch.  Me?  That makes me feel nervous and like I’m going to slither out of my skin.

My college roomie and bfry Candace and I do not hug.  We had lived together for YEARS, literally YEARS, before we hugged.  It has to be extreme to make us hug.  A breakup.  A wedding.  A friendship recovered.  The “Hot Donut” sign on at Krispy Kreme.  These kinds of things.

Because she, nor I, speak the language of THE CLOSER YOU ARE THE DEEPER YOU LOVE.  [We operate more in the vein of "the funnier you are, the more I love you".  But we don't say "I love you" either.  We have a mildly dysfunctional friendship.]

But as for me- Words of affirmation?  Bring it on.  Gifts?  Oh yes sir.  Quality time?  I mean, if you’ve got it, I’ll take it.  Wanna do something nice for me?  Yep, I’ll probably let you.

Just don’t touch me.

But after only 48 hours at home, something has changed.  Or something has been there all along.

Now that I’m home, I can’t hug my friends enough.  I sit by a friend and I want to be touching her hand.  I want to hug my friends and not let go.  I rest my hand on a friend’s knee, just because I can.  I want to hold Haley’s baby right up against my chest until our breaths are in sync.  When I feel arms wrap around me, my eyes fill with tears. I walk through a room of my friends and touch every shoulder, my hands lingering like they are drawing something life-giving from each person.

I just love to feel them beside me.  Just to know, with certainty, that they are there.

I stood at the top of the stairs last night and cried in my Daddy’s arms.  I have so missed the feel of folding into my Dad’s chest.  The tight hugs of my Mom.  The softness of a love that is unwavering, expressed through close proximity.

Nashville is good to me.  Don’t get me wrong.  But Nashville doesn’t hold me.  Nashville doesn’t sit too close.  Nashville doesn’t get in my business or my personal space.  Nashville doesn’t let me lean in without purpose.

Nashville and I are still shaking hands.  Marietta and I are sappy long huggers.

I came home this weekend for a wedding that I did not want to miss.  And I’m glad I did.

But maybe this was too soon.  Maybe my heart still breaks too much.  Maybe my Marietta life still feels so right.

I have really missed the feel of home. The literal hold-my-hand-because-you- know-me-and-love-me feel of home.

And I don’t know how to leave it again.

Note from your blogista: today’s post is brought to you by my favorite 12 year old friend, Anne.  She takes beautiful pictures of delicious things.  And now I’m hungry.  Leave her a comment and let her know what you think of this recipe.  Much love, bloggites! -Annie

TWICE BAKED SWEET POTATOES

3 large sweet potatoes

2 oz cream cheese

2 tablespoons milk

1 tablespoon brown sugar

¼ teaspoon cinnamon

¼ cup pecans (optional)

First, preheat the oven to 425 degrees.  AFter you have done that, you need to wash the potatoes. Then lay them out on a cutting board. Cut them lengthwise next.

Lay the potatoes cut side down on a foil-lined pan. Cook them for 30-35 minutes.

When they’re done, allow them to cool for a while. When they’re cool, scoop out the insides and put them in a bowl.

Add the other ingredients to the bowl.

Cinnamon.

This smells soooooooo good.

Brown Sugar.

Yum. Need I say more?

Milk

Milk. Fine. Good.

Then mix the cinnamon, brown sugar, milk, and potato fillings until they are well blended.

Next, fill the potatoes with those ingredients. Take a spatula and smooth it out, too.

You can add pecans if you want.

Put the potatoes back in the oven for about 10 minutes.

Take them out and…

Enjoy!

Smile, Wednesday.

Cause I’m home.  With my people.

Tomorrow, special guest blogger with a recipe and pictures.  Ohh.  Fancy.  And it’s not Betsy- remember she’s the Giveaway Guru- she has no time for cooking!

I’m home for a few days, so blogging may be sporadic.  I always say that, it never is.  But none the less.  Consider yourself warned.

Thank you, Brooke, for making me do those extra calf raises this morning even though I was a wee bit whiny and teary.  [I'm sore from the ears down.]

Thank you, Annie P, for dreaming so big that you leave my mouth hanging open.  I am fully jealous of your skillz and when you are a regular performer at the Bluebird, I’m going to punch the table and say, “Why couldn’t You let me write like THAT Annie, God?”  And I’m going to be so proud of you.  [Then I'm going to order another drink.  And some brie.]

Thank you, Hollie, because today I laughed longer and harder at Baja than I planned. [Burritos are hilarious.]

Thank you, James, for letting me cry over hurt feelings.  [Someday I will understand boys and you will say "I told you so" and I will say "I know you did" and you will laugh in my face and then shake my husband's hand and say, "Good luck, sucka."]

Thank you, Dillard’s Dept. Store, for taking that shirt back.  It was too expensive and a poor choice for my current income bracket.  [But I will be the first to confess I looked HOT in it.]

Thank you, Lady Antebellum, for being so freakin’ good at what you do.  Good gracious.  You should bottle that talent and sell it on the internet.  [I'd buy some.  A wear it only on special occasions.]

Thank you, Hillary, for the new addition to my wardrobe- I will be supa fly next time I’m out on the town.  [And I promise to never say "supa fly" again. Or go "out on the town", for that matter.]

Thank you, Cos and BJ, for a really fun dinner.  [Cos, if you knew my remaining budget for this month, you would know how grateful I am.  And I hope I spelled your name right. BJ, I hope you read this far down the post.]

Thank you, bloggites, for showing up today.  [Need I remind you that you are important to me?  I hope not.]

Who gets a slice of your thanks today? [Leave it in the comments.]

One of the funniest things about living in Nashville is that everybody is somebody.

Present blog author excluded.

There are the obviously famous people- artists and musicians and the like.  And don’t think for one country music minute that I don’t love that.  The idea that Reba and I could pass each other on the cereal aisle is a highlight to living in this zip code.

Then there are the not-so-obvious ones- the phenomenal songwriters, the producers that everyone, yes absolutely everyone, should know [except the musically uncool like me], the unsigned artists that have college women all over this great nation pining after them, etc.  Being that I have no aspirations in the music biz, I don’t know them.  So who knows how many times I’ve sat beside an undercover big deal.  Or stood in line with someone that would make a soon-to-be-artist sweaty and nervous.

I had a couple of great experiences this weekend that sadly, I’m not allowed to blog about.  [Don't think I didn't shake my fist at the sky and yell "OH WHY?!?" when the email said, "please don't blog about this".  Let's just say I slept on a tour bus Friday and Saturday night.  And that's all you're getting.]  But I was around artists and people who are somebodys here in Nashville.  And they treated me like we’d been friends forever and even suffered through the 3rd quarter of the Georgia game on my behalf.

Oh musicians.  You should really learn to love football.  This could be our year.

They were awesome to be around.  Genuinely caring about my move to Nashville, playing the “who do you know” game and identifying mutual friends.  Really getting to know me.  Saying, with their actions, that I am important.

But then I had a radically different experience last week, before the Weekend That Ruled.  I was at an event and I ran into someone that I have many mutual friends with here in Nashville.  It was easy to recognize him from pictures on facebook and the fact that EVERYONE says we would love being friends.

Being the shy quiet type that I am [ahem], I introduced myself and explained how and why we should know each other.

Once I said hey, it was apparent that I was out of place and stealing his time.  Suffice it to say we didn’t hug or exchange phone numbers.  In fact, I think only one party in the conversation smiled.  That being me.  At the beginning.

I left the conversation saying, “Is that guy famous?  And was I supposed to know that?  And am I a fan and didn’t know it?”

He carried himself with an air of importance. And made me question my own.

I’ve been turning this conversation over in my mind.  The truth is that there were a lot of factors involved and meeting another time or in another situation may have made us into great friends.  [So don't get all feisty cause I still could end up being buds with him in the future.  I'm just sayin'...]

I think by asking “Are you famous?”, what we are really saying is, “Are you worth my time?”.  Isn’t that true?  Because we think “famous” people deserve our time and others don’t.  He had decided that I was not worth his time.  An investment that had no payout.

And I do the same thing to people all the time.  How sick and sad.  Because I don’t know if you saw the memo but I, ANNIE, AM NOT FAMOUS EITHER.  But sometimes I act like it.

Sometimes I forget my own issues until someone holds a mirror up and says “Check yo self out, sista.  You look just like me.”  Ouch.

So I wonder if there are people I’ve left in my “wake of fame” that feel the same about me as I do about that guy?  People that I didn’t have time for because they weren’t cool enough?  I bet so, but pray not.  I’ve asked God to forgive me of that- being so very important that I sucked the importance out of someone else’s heart.

So thanks for the reality check, Fake Famous Guy.  You’ve made me want to live different.

Because I’ve decided that I’m going to start treating people like THEY are the important ones.  Not me.  I want other people to leave my presence and say, “Am I famous?  She acted like I was a big deal.  Am I?”  And then maybe that will give God a moment to tell them what a big deal they are to Him.

Because that’s the first thing He said to me when I left that conversation.

So today, I want you to know that YOU REALLY MATTER TO ME.  You do.  I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel any different.  And just because you are on the other side of this screen doesn’t mean I don’t thank God for you and appreciate you for even stopping by.  You are important.  You are a big deal.  You are worth my time.

Truth is, there is only One worthy of fame around here.

Habakkuk 3:2  “Lord, I have heard of Your fame; I stand in awe of Your deeds.”

One that is perfect and worthy and YET takes His time to make us feel loved and important.  And that fact alone should be enough to keep me humble.  Please Lord, keep me humble.  And keep loving me like this.

My friend Mandy tagged me this week on her blog.  I’m supposed to list 6 things about myself that are considered “quirky”.  Now, I’m going to start with six, but I can’t promise you anything.  We could go all the way to 43.  Who knows.  I’m going to try to not repeat any of my random facts that I listed a few months ago or the list I made when I hit 10,000 readers.  Which is challenging.

#1- I drink orange juice every night before I go to bed.  [Which the trainer dude keeps reminding me is a really poor choice since my body doesn't handle sugar all that well.  I remind trainer dude that "at least I'm not eating Moose Tracks so back off", or something of that nature.]

#2- I easily crush on guys who write funny things.  Like this guy, who told the weather not to get sassy.  That’s funny.  Dave Barnes once talked about emails to his heart- and that is pretty much how it goes for me regarding all forms of written communication.  Wanna win me over, suitor?  Write it down.

#3- I rub my feet together when I get tired.  My bfry Candace used to notice even before I did.  “You tired over there?”, she’d say, because she saw my feet rubbing together while watching TV or something.  Is that quirky or normal?  I don’t know.

#4- Today is my Dad’s birthday.  He was born 30 years before me.  Both my grandmothers were born 30 years before him.  1920. 1950. 1980.  [2010?  We'll just have to wait and see about that.  Quit pressuring me, gah.]  My Dad is a quirk all his own- there aren’t enough numbers to list how hilariously quirky my Dad is.  I’ll give you one- when we eat at a restaurant, he has to sit so he can see the door.  It’s a “safety thing”, he says.  My Dad is completely awesome and I’m super grateful for him. [I would do an entire post on him, but I've been a wee bit sad and homesick and emotional lately, so I just might not survive it were I to attempt any kind of sappiness.]

#5- I add up the numbers in a license plate or a phone number and I “win” if the numbers add up to 9 (that’s as high as possible- if it gets to 10, I add 1+0 and get 1.)

Here’s an example- random license plate- LDR3910

3 + 9 + 1 + 0 = 13.  1 + 3 = 4.  I lose.

Here’s a winning example- WEL42867

4 + 2 + 8 + 6 +7 = 27.  2 + 7 = 9. I win.  [And yes, I am this big of a dork all the time.]

#6- I went through a season a few summers ago when I was a nanny and I became a pretty decent Texas Hold ‘Em player.  They nicknamed me Annie Duke.  Then they took all my money.

So there you have it.  Now, between this post and the other two, I’m seriously running low on weird things about me that you don’t know.  What I’m saying is that you have a lot of AMMO at your disposal should you ever need to embarrass me in public or something of the sort.

I don’t tag people in things like this anymore because I get way obsessive compulsive about checking their blogs to see if they also have 6 or so quirky things about themselves.  It’s really not healthy for my mind or my friendships.

But play along!!  Leave one quirk in the comments or leave a link to your blog where you list your own quirks. Seriously, nothing makes people happier than reading about other people’s crazy.  So jump on board and spill your beans.  You think you have the strangest quirk?

Bring it.

I never fully expressed how much I enjoyed the Next Big Nashville shows that I went to on Saturday night.

We got there in time to hear the uber-talented Brooke Waggoner.  I’m not kidding- hearing Brooke live for the first time was awesome.  Listening to Brooke’s music is like hearing summer turn to fall.  Knowing that she lives and worships [oh yeah, she knows Jesus] here gives me hope for my own art.

We then heard Thad Cockrell.  He has an amazing voice, but his style just isn’t my style.  He’s a good songwriter- had the best line of the night if you ask me- “Ever since I met you, beauty has a name“.  Hey, Thad, I don’t know who she is, but I bet she loves you.

The final show was Ten Out Of Tenn.  See, here’s the thing.  It is composed of 10 individual Nashville artists.  And when they perform live, they all are involved in every song.  For example, when Matthew Perryman Jones is singing his song “Don’t Fall In Love”, other artists are playing instruments, singing backup, doing whatever it takes to make that song sound awesome.  Then it’s Katie Herzig’s turn- everyone rotates around to a different instrument and they all work equally hard on that song.  And they shift around like that over and over.  Everyone being in front.  Everyone being in back- nine times out of ten.

I watched Andy Davis- we have a few mutual friends, he loves the Lord, I like him as a person.  And y’all.  He played every instrument at one point or another.  He sang the words to every song, even if he wasn’t miked, like a true fan of the other musicians.  He was there to ensure the best sound came out on every song.  And of the fifteen or so songs we heard, ONE was his.  ONE.  Fourteen times he lived for someone else.  Fourteen opportunities to serve. Every artist played like that- served like that.  And they had fun doing it.

It amazed me- it was all I could think about.  How selfless.  How giving.  To give as much attention to nine other artists’ songs as your own.  Risking their song sounding better than your’s.  I was more than impressed.  I was blessed.  It was a picture of the best things about Nashville.  [Yes, there is coveting and backstabbing, and in my few weeks here I've seen that as well.]  But watching these ten artists give their all for each other made me want to be a better artist.  A better writer.  Why?  So that I can get together with my other writer friends and hold their work up to the world and say “HOW GOOD IS THIS?!?!  READ IT!!!”  With no concern for myself- if they succeed, I succeed.  Like Shannon or Sandra.  Like Linda.  I want to live Mark 12:33 like that.

I salute you, Ten Out Of Tenn, because your music is good.  And you remind me of Jesus.

How does this affect you today?  I don’t know that answer for you.  I just know that if we all sought success for the other people in our professions and in our lives, this world would be a different place.

I think maybe this is how we were meant to live all along.

[By the way, there are other artists doing this in Nashville- Annie, Josh,and Meg, Dave and Matt - but these are just the ones that birthed this whole thought process in me.]

Have you ever seen a real building on fire?  I hadn’t, until yesterday.  Driving home from the sushi restaurant,  I saw the smoke and followed it.  There is something about seeing a building on fire- its devastating and frightening, even when you have no investment in it.  I was surprised when I realized what I was feeling was fear mixed with grief.  Not an experience I want to have again soon.

On a more positive note, I did get some delicious sushi for lunch. Let me tell you why this is the happiest sushi I have ever experienced.  Notice anything missing?  SEAWEED.  They use soy paper instead and it has revolutionized my sushi eating.  Oh just the sight of it makes my internal seaweed hater gloat a little bit.

On a less positive note, hey birds- what part of “Silver Toyota Camry Roof” makes you think TOILET?  Grrrrr.  And this photo doesn’t even take into account the four or five bird “moments” that are on my front passenger window.  I wish I knew the location of a car wash.Have I ever told you that this is one of my very favorite songs?  It is.  My all time #1 can not possibly be usurped [unless someone writes a song about being madly in love with me] is “I Just Called To Say I Love You” by Stevie Wonder.  Just more info to add to your “Annie” file, things that really have no real life application or worth.

It has been a LONG TIME since a book did this to me.  Kept me up until 1:30am reading.  Made me want to read while drying my hair.  Made me find a way to read while eating lunch.  But John Green has done it with An Abundance of Katherines.  Obviously.

I feel a little nervousness writing about this book because it isn’t blatantly Christian (though there are religious themes) and it has some not church appropriate parts and language.  But, that being said, it is excellent writing.  I loved it, but you may not.  But I did.  He has another book coming out next month and I can’t wait.

I feel the need to also explain my lunch a bit.  Water to drink- I’ve given up all sodas since April 08 and its great.  Egg salad sandwich- nothing wrong with that.  Those flying pig good for you veggie chips- farmland cheddar is my flavor of choice, I believe.  And then piles of pizza dough squares- for a recipe I’m making tonight for small group.  I had to make pesto yesterday and realized that I had left my food processor in Atlanta.  DOH.  Luckily I have a friend a few blocks away and she let me borrow her’s.

Ok, off to write things that pay the bills.  Happy Wednesday.