October, 2010

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A book I won’t write.

Friday, October 29th, 2010

Y’all know I wrote a book. And it is getting published by Westbow.

And on Monday, there will be celebrations and confetti and explosions and a sneak peek at the back cover and the book will be turned in and the next step will begin.

What is that next step? Yeah…. I dunno. I’ll tell you Monday. [Not cause I'm a secret keeper, more because I honestly don't know.]

I am super-dee-duper excited that the book is finished, designed, edited, fixed, tied with a bow, put a fork in it cause it’s done. No more, “So on page 42 did you want it to say YES or yes?” No longer will I have to read the same joke and think, “Was it funny the first time? Cause it is not funny the 18th time.” I’m glad to have the “I think there should be a comma there on page 102″ situation resolved.

Cause truly, the editing process almost made me throw my computer out the window going 70 miles per hour down the interstate.

I decided not to do that. Because I think I want to keep using my computer and keep writing books.

But, just FYI…. there is a book I’m not going to write.

A book on being single.

Why won’t I write said book, you ask?

Hop over to the (in)courage site to read my article A Book on Singleness.

Y’all have a great weekend.

GO DAWGS.

Toddler Thursday.

Thursday, October 28th, 2010

[Thanks for hearing me out on Tuesday. We'll all just keep surfin' on.]

Last weekend, one of my biggest Nash-dreams came true.

Haley and her two tiny people came to visit. And since today’s is HALEY’S BIRTHDAY!!!!!, me thinks it is the perfect day to feature her and her family on ye old blog.

Just a quick reminder- Jarrett is three and Carys is two.

And together they are THE MOST AWESOME.

They arrived last Thursday, immediately pulled out the Potato Head set and turned on Little Einsteins.

Carys also took some time to check out the accommodations.

While Jarrett spent some time being a dinosaur. Obviously.

In the evening, they graciously used their tools [ie- fire truck and plastic chain saw] to take care of the leaves on my back porch. [While, mind you, my roommate hosted a prayer/worship night inside. Bless my friends' hearts.]

On Friday, Carys said, “Annie, I’m-a sit on the steps. You take my pit-chure.” Who am I to argue with that cuteness?

And while at lunch, Jarrett played many-a-level of Angry Birds [my current iPhone game addiction] and Carys read a magazine.


We did a lot of playing and early rising and as a result, I needed naps. On multiple days. So we left lunch, headed home for a snoozle, and while I pulled out the keys, Carys decided to shimmy between two doors. Cause, you know, that’s what kids do.

We ate Mexican for dinner. Which meant a lot of cheese dip and quesadillas [as seen below].

And we befriended some local statues.

We spent Saturday at the Edgehill Village Fair before my people loaded up and drove away, leave me needing another nap and deeply lonesome.

I can’t tell you how much fun last weekend was. It meant SO SO much to me for Haley to pack her kids up and drive here, meet my friends, see this world. When I’m home, I talk about this person, that place, Nash Nash Nash, and now Haley can see it in her mind.

And if you’ve known me for any amount of time, you know that one of the biggest sacrifices for my heart when I moved to Nashville was leaving Haley and her family [and Molly and her family, and my family, and... let's just stop there]. So every single chance I get to spend with them, I’ll take.

It was good for my heart. Good for my soul. And a hilarious couple of days. And the only picture the four of us took together was when we were pretending to be statues.

There is a plethora of good faces in this picture and an apparent shortage of pants.

Thanks again for a super fun weekend, Haley & kids! [And thanks Jeff for letting your family abandon you for the weekend and hang with me!]

Love you, Haley! Happy birthday!

I’m not a good surfer.

Tuesday, October 26th, 2010

I’m watching television and the guy is surfing. He can barely keep himself upright. The waves are coming one.after.another. and what he lacks in skill he makes up for in effort. Bless his heart. He’s drowning. The pro-surfer girl beside him keeps saying, “Hang on, paddle, breathe.”

He finally gives up and floats in. He looks terrible. As they sat side by side on the sand, he said, “that was literally 100 times harder than I thought.”

And I’m watching this and thinking that I want to be friends with that guy. Cause I get it.

I’m in over my head in a few different arenas. I’m not the only one. I know you feel this way too sometimes. We all do. This blog will not be full of complaints or whines. I’m just saying…. I’m not a good surfer.

And there are a lot of waves.

And the waves have a lot of faces.

A family member making ridiculous choices, so affecting to the rest of us that I DREAM nightly about a conversation I will never have.

A book with Westbow that once turned in, I can’t take back.

Friends with diseases.

A massive bit of internal turmoil [dramatic much?] regarding some stuff between me and God [here's a hint] that is breaking my heart and yet nothing I can talk about.

A season of feeling unbelievably introverted, partly my own fault and partly things that people say that end in, “and you aren’t allowed to tell anyone that.”

Family drama [on the other side, if you can believe that] involving my parents having to be self-less and awesome and step into mess they never made. And it’s going to end really really great, but the process isn’t so great.

Big changes at Mocha Club that raise questions and I don’t have any answers.

Trying to comprehend grace and trying to connect with a God who the more I know the less I understand.

Food. Exercise. Choices. Lies in my head.

The waves the waves the waves.

Please don’t hear this as me whining. I’m a writer. When I write, I heal. When my fingers move across the keyboard and my head nods slowly in agreement and my throat closes up because I need to cry it out a bit and the tears are actually words, I am soothed. It’s like medicine. So forgive me if my medicine is making you sick.

I know. My life is not hard. People in Africa have no clean water. Homeless women on the streets fear winter. People lose family members suddenly.

I have a roof over my head. A job or two. So much food that it is embarrassing. [See above wave.] I have amazing parents and my health and friends and my life is not hard.

But I’m just not a good surfer and the waves right now are strong.

All I know, all I can do, is promise God that I won’t quit surfing if He won’t let me drown.

We’re good so far.

Marcel will make your Monday.

Monday, October 25th, 2010

Tip of the ole hat to Jamie Tworkowski from To Write Love on Her Arms for sharing this video. I think it is genius and cute and hilarious and it makes Monday not hurt so deep.

——

Also… I just have to share this picture of Shelby with you. [You know Shelby. I'm her aunt in charge of entertainment.]

You know I adore her already, but this just plain sent me over. the. edge.

Oh Monday. You’re too good to me.

Save Blue Like Jazz.

Friday, October 22nd, 2010

Raise your hand if you have read Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. Many of you, I see.

It’s a good book. Nay, a great book.

So listen. Here’s the thing. If you read A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, you know this already- Blue Like Jazz was going to be a movie. But the investors backed out, Don announced the sad news on his blog, and then these two cool superhero dudes decided to ask the fans to pay for the movie to be made.

And it.is.happening.

Check out the video and the website and the kickstarter site [where you can donate money].

I’m not telling you because Don is my best friend [he's not, currently] but because I think this will be one of those things that you’ll want to be a part of when you look back on your life. These are stories that matter and yet don’t cost you tons of moola.

Don’s a great writer and a great friend to many of my friends. I can only imagine the feeling he must be having- people loving your words so much that they are willing to pay money… so that a movie will be made… that they have to pay more money to see. That’s powerful.

And it’s weird. And it’s beautiful. And I donated some buckaroos [proof so you know I'm not lying - I'm on page 50 of the backers] because I think it is more about dreams and community and love than it is about a book or a movie.

This is about living in such a way that my life says, our lives say, “You have a dream? Need some help getting there? I can help? Then I’m in.”

They are currently trying to raise enough to be the largest crowd-sourced project in American history. Isn’t it crazy that we can give a little, many of us giving a little, and make this massive ripple in the lake of entertainment and culture?

For my whole life, I want to be a part of these kinds of stories.

Don’t you?

A beautiful death.

Thursday, October 21st, 2010

I can’t help but be amazed by the trees this time of the year.

Distracting almost, aren’t they?

The vibrant colors. The way the sun shines through the leaves. The darkening of the bark. It is absolutely beautiful.

And yet, is it weird that we are marveling at the end of the cycle, the death of all that tree has been for the last nine months? The tree isn’t this lovely year round, only when it is dying.

We all know how the story goes. I’m not going to go on and on about how in winter the trees will be bare it will feel like the world will never be green and alive again but on the inside, little children, life is still growing! And suddenly the trees bloom and we celebrate resurrection and we all know God better.

I know we all know it.

But for today, there is just something so borderline psychotic about Autumn. I mean, we all stand around and revel in the beauty of the leaves losing their life.

I’m not turning into a tree hugger here. I’m just beginning to question why I fear small personal emotional deaths yet I beg Fall to never end. I don’t mind watching the beauty of something else dying, but I’m unwilling to call my own death beautiful.

Not my physical death. At time of writing, I am very much alive and very much behind on some writing deadlines. But I’m talking about when my heart feels like parts are dying. Or when my dreams turn such a vibrant shade of orange that I know the best thing to do is let them fall off my tree. Because they are dying. But I don’t want to. And the process certainly isn’t pretty.

[By the way, this is absolutely the color of the trees and sky as my iPhone captured it yesterday. Weirdy McCrazycolor, huh?]

As I was walking to small group last night, I was overcome with the ridiculous amounts of fear I hold in my heart, especially towards deaths in my own life. I never stand back and gasp and say, “oh, look everyone! How gorgeous is THIS?” and then watch as parts of me die, or plans die, or expectations die.

Instead I scurry through the Annie tree, using any type of tape I can find to secure the leaves to the branches because PLEASE DON’T LET MY DREAMS/PLANS/HOPES DIE. I don’t like change when it involves MY leaves.

I don’t have a cute burnt orange bow to tie on this post. It’s not so much a problem with a solution as it is a pure observation.

Today is my sister’s 29th birthday. She is awesome. She lives in Hawaii so she can’t see any leaves change. Enjoy these pictures, Tatum. It really is so so beautiful right now. Love you.

Smile, Wednesday (10.20.10)

Wednesday, October 20th, 2010

Nash besties in Athens, GA.

So close to Scott Harrison. I'm creepy.

Annie, Ishita, and Anne.

Flying through a sunset.

The official dessert of Maryland. Weird, right?

Lady Antebellum

I'm loving this magazine.

Andrew Ripp @ the Mocha Club office

The view at Arrington Vineyard

Before it’s too late fruit salad

Tuesday, October 19th, 2010

That’s not the official name.

I just have meant to share this recipe for a few weeks and I’m worried that if we don’t go ahead and get this out there, we will miss the fruit salad window.

[I wish I had a fruit salad window. I bet that would be lovely.]

Asked to bring a fruit salad to a baby shower in September, I wanted something special. Something sweet. Something with a little umph.

So I went straight away to Tasty Kitchen [my very favorite recipe hub] and found an amazing recipe for Seasonal Fruit Salad with Honey-Mint Lime Dressing.

I think when it comes to things like fruit salad, you don’t have to follow the recipe straight up. You can be a little willy-nilly. Pick the fruits you want, just make the measurements the same.

Here’s the recipe:

  • 3 Tablespoons Honey
  • 3 Tablespoons Fresh Lime Juice
  • 3 Tablespoons Brown Sugar
  • 3 Tablespoons Freshly Mint, Chopped
  • 10 cups Ripe Seasonal Fresh Fruit: Strawberries, Blueberries, Peaches, Kiwis [I used completely different fruits. Don't hate.]

[They say this makes 10 servings, but I'm thinking it fed 20 at the shower. So. There's that.]

Here are the steps, which are almost ridiculously easy. Which made me happy.

1. Mix up the dressing.

2. Chop up the fruit.

3. Pour the dressing over the fruit and stir. [Not all of it, mind you. You can always add, you can't take away. So go half-sies, and then add more as needed.]

4. Plate it [gorgeous]. Sniff it [lovely]. Eat it [delicious]. Love it [you will].

The shower attendees cleaned me out of fruit salad before I could even take a picture of the bowl at the party. So actually, this small plate you see? I had to remake it when I got back from the shower. [Oh the lengths I will go for you.]

It is so so good.

So before all the good fruit retires for the summer [I know, it probably already has], make this dressing and toss it up and you can thank me later.

Do you have a favorite Tasty Kitchen recipe? Online recipe? Share it, my friends. I’m in a cookin’ mood.

Book talk.

Friday, October 15th, 2010

I just can’t even tell you how much I love talking about Westbow Press and this book. It’s not a pride thing [I hope!] but instead, I hope this is a fun story for you to hear. And maybe, just maybe, there is this “thing” that you’ve always wanted to do; and I hope you see that if I can do this and I’m kind of a dork, then you can totally do your “thing”.

Do yo thing.

First- let me answer some questions from the last time we talked book.

This isn’t dumb, Face. Great question. The difference is this [I think]: with traditional publishing, you get chosen by them, you get an advance [$$], and you work with the publishing house’s editor, graphic designer, marketing team, and all sorts of other cool perks from professionals who make books all the livelong day. And then you get paid a percent of the profit from book sales.

With self-publishing [and you can read more on Westbow's website]: you pay up front to have the book made and based on what package you pick determines how many of the company’s hands are on deck. [As for me, I have my own professional editor and graphic designer, so I didn't pay for that.] And then in the end, you get a little bit bigger percent of the profit from book sales.

Both ways are super awesome. Traditional publishing is cool and trustworthy and tried and true. Self-publishing is cool and new and a wee bit indie. Maybe a bit hipster? I hope so. It’s my new goal in life.

[There are a few other differences- if you are deciding which route to take, read up on both. Seriously.]

First of all, super cute pic, Dani. Secondly, thanks for your kind words. My marketing plan? Well, I’m gonna get right on that as soon as we turn the book in this week. I’m kinda surrounded by genius marketers, so I plan to abuse, I mean USE, their knowledge.

I would definitely suggest getting an agent. They are way way smart, have great connections, and know how to speak the publishing language. In fact, I’m probably going to look into an agent in the near future for some other projects I’m working on.

Tam, I love that we share Lindsey as a mutual friend. She’s dear to me. And I love that you have already talked to the folks at Westbow. They are rad. I couldn’t be happier with how things have gone so far. Truly.

A good editor is a MUST MUST MUST. You can borrow mine, but you can’t have her. :) Email me and I’ll connect you with her. Same with my designer. Her name is Emily and she is the epitome of an artist.

And here is one of the finest pieces of art I have ever seen.

The cover art for my first ever book. MY cover. The cover of MY BOOK. [I'm dying a little just writing that.]

I’ll be honest. I totally teared up when I saw this the first time. I think it is perfectly lovely. The goal for this book is that it fit comfortably between a teen girl’s Bible and journal. I wanted it to be beautiful but subtle. And Emily NAILED IT. Totally nailed it.

Tell me what YOU think! I did not-one-thing to make this cover, so I take no pride in it except that I am proud of my graphic designer pickin’ skillz. But I’d love to hear your thoughts.

We’ll turn the book in this week and then I’ll have more updates for you. Again, as always, if you have more questions, don’t hesitate to ask and I will answer. Or I’ll find the answer.

Also, who out there is writing a book? Or wants to? Or is thinking about it a little bit but is scared to say so? Tell us about YOUR journey.

And remember my tip for today :: Do. yo. thing.

I love y’all. Thanks for walking this road with me.

Amen.

Smile, Wednesday. (10.13.10)

Wednesday, October 13th, 2010

I love to wrap gifts.

The Civil Wars.

Mel + Jesse are engaged!

Perfect Sunday.

Kansas City skyline

Half-marathon shoes

My brothers from different mothers.