[That's a paraphrase, but I know he said "blog" and "cool." I know that.]

And I am worried because these poor guys keep having to hear about glitter and nail polish and being 31 and single and recipes for small group and really all manner of things that don’t matter to dudes.

And I bet there are more of you out there. Ahem, DAD. Ahem, others I do not know.

So.

I told them I would write a post for dudes in my best dude voice.

[I'm sorry and you're welcome.]

Here goes nothin’.

. . . . .

Yo. [Terrible start] So, like, how are the Clippers and the Lakers and the Kings all going to play in the same arena this weekend? That many teams in the playoffs? LA is sick. [I'm terrible at this] I’m glad I’m not in charge of flipping the Staples Center from ice to court. You know what I would do? Put the wooden floor on top of the ice. Added level of challenge, having the floors freezing cold and all.

I mean, if the Dodgers would put together any kind of season this year, LA might have the sports year of their dreams. They deserve to get pumped about these teams since the Oakland Raiders are the worst.

Speaking of the NFL, wanna be in my fantasy league? Draft will be in the fall. Go ahead and make up an inappropriate but hilarious team name.

You know what’s awesome? Mexican food. Tons of chips. It’s just awesome that you can sit down and order and for like, $8, get piles of meat and cheese and guacamole. I mean, it’s one of the only times I feel totally full. Usually I get home and I’m all, “what’s to eat?” even if I just ate. [Girl Annie isn't like this at all, but Dude Voice Annie totally is.]

By the way, girls are crazy. [I don't know how to expound on this because I, for one, am actually crazy. I just know Connor confirmed that Dude Voice Annie should talk about it.]

Also, you know what’s cool? Wearing shorts. Every day.

And.

Fast cars.

And.

Fart jokes.

. . . . .

And scene.

Well, I think that went great, if you are into stereotyping and all.

It actually went horribly. Apparently I am a disaster when I have to talk to boys like I’m a boy. I can handle myself when I’m talking to boys like I am a girl [in fact, I am a girl], but when your brain doesn’t work like a boy [mine does not] then it is hard to talk like one.

. . . . .

For realz, I am going to start making an effort to have some gender neutral posts every blue moon so the fellas don’t always have to suffer through my constant femaleness.

So male readers- are you out there? Will you identify yourself? Tell me what kind of blog posts you want me to write for you. Questions? Comments? Wanna guest post? 

Ladies, you can comment too… what topics should I cover for the dudes?

So these hours shall henceforth be known at The Wasting Hours.

. . . . .

It seems, that in my new full-time job as an author, I have fallen headfirst into a pretty regular schedule, for better or for worse. It goes a little something like this:

7am: attempt to wake up, think about waking up, realize that there are authors all over this globe that wake up and write genius pieces of literature in the early morning hours, then realize that my alarm isn’t screaming at me anymore.

7:30am — “Seriously, Downs. Move it.” And I shower, get ready, dilly-dally, etc.

morning — Working. Seriously. These morning hours are my jam. Super productive, flying through work, writing stuff about stuff. Listening to classical music.

Also, I tend to have biz meetings in this window. I’m the best biz-Annie at this time, so I can yell “BUY! SELL! BUY!” and “I WON’T SETTLE FOR LESS THAN A MILLION!” and “THAT GRANOLA IS DELICIOUS!” with gusto.

12pm — Honestly, I usually have lunch with friends. Or a friend. Or I make friends with people sitting near me wherever I am eating lunch.

1pm – 2:01pm — Finish my Living Social writing that is due everyday at 2pm. [I write the content on the deals for Atlanta and a few other rando cities around the USA.]

2:02pm-5pm – The Wasting Hours.

5pm-7pm — Hard-working time again. Usually while listening to music with words, I bust through emails, blog posts, and get some writing done.

Then it’s dinner and friends and social life until 10ish, when it is back to writing [if I have more to finish] or to reading before bed.

. . . . .

But those Wasting Hours. Man. I don’t know what happens to me. Is this normal? Having a mid-afternoon slump like this? Maybe it is because I used to teach school and we’ve been trained since we were five years old to work from 7am – 2pm [school hours] then rest?

The Wasting Hours always sneak up on me. I will be working on something and then slowly my brain starts to drag. I start clicking from one social media site to another and not really be getting anything accomplished. I look up at my computer clock and it almost always says something in the 2 o’clock hour.

It’s like, ahem, well, clockwork.

Here are some things I end up doing during The Wasting Hours:

• Nap. Especially if I am going to working late that night, a nap is just what the imaginary doctor ordered.
• Eat a bowl of cereal. Multi-grain cheerios, please.
• Walk outside. Even if I just go check the mail [which I actually have a PO Box, so this is never my mail], I feel like I’m not wasting my life. You know, during The Wasting Hours.
• Read blogs. This is a great time for me to read other blogs and comment.
• Get lost in the basement of the internet. Tell me you don’t, but I won’t believe you.
• Feel like I’m throwing away my career because I cannot for the life of me get focused.

. . . . .

Am I a total freak for having The Wasting Hours? Am I a total idiot for thinking I’m the only one who has The Wasting Hours? Does anybody else deal with this? What do you do to get out of your slump?

Teach me your ways, effective afternooners.

. . . . .

I love instagram. [I also am growing to love phonto, thanks to Adam Buzard, but that's beside the point.]

I think instagram is fun because it makes you feel like you can legitimately take pretty pictures. That may be why photographers, the real kind, don’t love instragram. I dunno. Also, I just plain like looking at what other people choose to photograph.

And since we’ve been quite wordy this week, with all the job talk and alarm talk and all, I thought today we would just focus on pictures.

So I went back through my instagram feed and picked my top 5 favorite pictures… in random order.

. . . . .

1. The lake /// http://instagr.am/p/Jp57YRGyMQ/

I love when we get to spend an afternoon on the lake. It’s probably one of the best parts of a Nashville summer. Our first outing was about two weeks ago with one of our pals who is a member of the boat club, so I took this one off the back of the boat while we were floating around.

2. Cloudy Edinburgh // http://followgram.me/i/212470302_1271735

This picture beautifully displays how nasty days in Edinburgh look and feel. This was out the living room window of my flat, that has since been sold. It’s strange to think of this picture as once-in-a-lifetime since it was my everyday view for six months, but alas. It is.

3. Jett + Annie /// http://instagr.am/p/KY1-_dGyLi/

At this week’s Vandy baseball game, my buddy Jett went with us. When we decided to take a picture, he said, “When we are both famous, we’ll be glad we have this.” Awesome, huh? This kid. I like him a lot.

[BTW... I got parental permission before posting this picture. I'm not a monster.]

4. Glitter is my favorite color. /// http://instagr.am/p/IYSjApmyM9/

It’s just true. And this glitter polish is so cheap, with tiny sparkles, that it doesn’t cement to your nails the way the fancy stuff does. Happy girl.

5. Aiden’s boots /// http://instagr.am/p/HChViOGyA5/

I was watching Aiden while his folks were busy the other week, before we had dining room furniture. He brought his cars, I have lots of poker chips, we made a road. Plain and simple. I love his little boots.

. . . . .

I wish I was smart enough to tell you what each border and filter were for each picture, but I can’t remember. I will tell you this- Brannan is my go-to favorite filter.

YOUR TURN!

Link us to your favorite instagram picture [of your own or someone else's if you don't have instagram]. Or write a post today on your own blog with five of your favorite instagrams and link us to that! 

What is your favorite filter to use? 

Since August of 2008, Mocha Club has been a weekly part of my life. I started as a volunteer for a few months and then I got a tiny part time job there, calling members, for five hours a week. Five turned to ten turned to twenty and a year had passed before I knew it.

I love Mocha Club. I love what they are doing in Africa. I love the integrity of the people who work there. I love the innovative ways they are raising money and making a difference overseas.

In May 2010, I started a real part time job at Mocha Club as their Social Media and Communications Director. It was a much needed role but the boss Barrett and I kinda made up my job as we went. We would figure out new cool things to do using social media and then boom, that was my job.

It was fun. Really fun.

Meanwhile, for another 40ish hours a week, I was writing and blogging and speaking and etc. So it wasn’t like I was laying by the pool most of the week and only working 24 hours a week.

[Well, I do like to lay by the pool in the summer. But, I mean, I write a lot too.]

When I moved to Scotland last fall, I kept my part time job and spent some hours every day online working and skyping with America. Namely, with the Mocha Club staff.

. . . . .

I came home from Scotland and didn’t know that Zondervan was on the horizon. But when that opportunity arose, and some other things started to shift in the atmosphere, Barrett and I realized that it was time for me to move along, little dawgie.

It was the perfect storm of what I needed + what Mocha Club needed + what I wanted + what I was too scared to do + Barrett pushing me out of the nest and making me fly.

So as of April 1, I am a Mocha Club artist, but not a staff member.

. . . . .

WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN, ANNIE??

Let’s do this in a list form.

1. When someone says “What do you do?” my answer is now “I am an author and a speaker.”

2. I work from home every day.

3. The blog and anniedowns.com are getting a major makeover that you will see really soon. Then when new people come along and say, “wow, this place is really pretty and fancy” you can say “she might have been born just plain white trash, but Fancy was her name” because you’ll have been here when this place wasn’t so fancy and you know how much I love Reba.

4. I need your help to make this full-time career work. I need you to tell your friends about my books when they come out, I need you to come hear me when I speak and bring your friends along, I need you to get me a speaking gig in your town, I need you to pray for me, and I need you to hug me when I get super scared that I am not going to make it full-time in this thing.

[Because I do get scared. Really scared. But God is orchestrating all of this, so I throw the scared away and only hang onto the thread of faith. I tie a knot when I get to the end of my faith rope and I hang on.]

5. You know what it really means? It means we’re really doing this thang, y’all. And after four years of trying, I’m pretty giggly that it is finally happening.

. . . . .

Your questions / comments / etc about this new season of my full-time career are totally welcome. I just like keeping y’all up to date on what’s happening on this side of the screen.

I pick one day a week and I don’t set an alarm.

Every other day of the week, I make myself wake up at 7am and actually get moving. [I know, some of you have to get up way earlier... don't hate me for sleeping until 7. When I taught school, I was up at 5am and interacting with small people by 7am. I know this is a luxury that won't last forever.]

[Sidenote: why does telling you I sleep until 7am make me feel insecure when I am about to tell you a whole story about REALLY sleeping in? I'm a complicated human.]

Because I rarely sleep in on Saturdays and we go to the 9am service at Cross Point on Sundays, my weekends aren’t the time when I get to sleep as long as I want. I used to do “No Alarm Monday” because we had college ministry stuff until 10pm-ish on Sundays, but now I go to the chiropractor at 8:30am on Mondays, so that isn’t an option anymore.

[Sidenote #2: Would you pray for my neck and back? Nothing serious, just some continual pain that makes it hard to sit for a long time... which is unfortunate when your job is sitting and writing.]

So each week, I strategically plan a No Alarm Day. This week, it was today. No Alarm Wednesday.

I don’t know why this feels like the most delicious freedom in the world, but it does. And I also don’t know why I insist labeling it. I’m a freak.

Since my working life [that I'm gonna tell you all about tomorrow] has some pretty weird hours, and I’m not doing a 9-5 job, there aren’t really OFF hours either. You know what I mean? So it’s not like a Saturday feels like my day off of work. In fact, I worked/wrote for seven hours last Saturday.

So when I left the Vanderbilt baseball game yesterday [which, some of those boys have started frequenting the blog and I'm all, "uh, I better write a dude-centric post every now and again"] I got home and realized, “TOMORROW IS NO ALARM WEDNESDAY!” And I did a jig.

I still was up by 8:30am. I don’t have the sleeping in skillz of my teenage years where I could snoozle until lunch. I wish I did.

So on average, not on No Alarm Wednesday, I go to bed around 11pm and I’m up at 7am. But today… oh it was nice to never hear the bullhorn that wakes me up most mornings.

Here’s what I’m curious about: on average, what time do you go to bed and what time do you wake up? How many hours of sleep do you need to feel human?

I had a moment of crisis last night when she was playing my song [ok, not MY song, but, you know, my song] – do I experience the moment or do I video it so I can hear it over and over again? [And, of course, I wanted you to get to see it too.]

I went video. You’re welcome.

Such a fun night… but my mind couldn’t help but rewind to March of 2010, the last time I saw Ingrid in concert. About ten of the gals loaded up and headed to the show in Knoxville. A handful of our guy friends were with this tour and so we just went into total groupie mode and drove to see the show… and honestly, to see them.

The night was perfect. The weather, the gals, seeing our boys, seeing the show. All of it.

Since that picture two years ago, three have gotten married, the two that were already married have had babies, and we have all lived and grown and stayed connected.

Only five of us made it to the show last night. But in the pitch black dark, we took a picture together.

Because Ingrid reminds us that we have history together.

When I moved to Nashville, one of the losses that I mourned so deeply was the loss of people knowing me and having “remember when” moments. And it took time to build those, but they are here. I’ve lived here almost four years now. And we are full of remember when’s.

Ingrid sang a lot from her new album last night, which I love. But it tugs at the deepest place of my heartstrings to hear her old stuff. It reminds me of a really beautiful and challenging relationship from 2010. I can hear our conversations between the lines of the songs from that old album, I can see the girls walking down the street in Knoxville, I can almost feel the tears from that season coming back.

History doesn’t always have to feel good to be appreciated. And last night was a reminder that the sweetest things in friendship are built by time.

. . . . .

Do you find that to be true? What else builds friendships?

. . . . .

This is an amazing cover by Ingrid. Enjoy.

But before I tell you about that, I gotta tell you about this.

Going shopping.

So my dear friend / stylist Amber Lehman and I popped down to the mall last week to find all the clothes for the photo shoot. We had, in the words of people other than me, a wicked good time. We laughed, we tried on outfits, we matched belts to dresses and earrings to tops.

And I bought red jeans. I AM SO TRENDY.

I can’t even get started on the discounts I got from Macy’s. Pretty much, I practically robbed them.

[The thing that will keep me out of jail after writing that sentence is "practically." I didn't really. I just got some serious sale prices.]

Amber and I high-fived and walked out of Macy’s and, as happens often in Nashville, Amber saw a friend.

As soon as said friend spoke in her cute southern drawl, I was like, “this girl is gonna be my friend.”

[Yep, that's how I make friends. I force them into it.]

Her name is Joanna Smith. She had been shopping. So had we. Amber loves her. I love Amber. That’s pretty much all I needed to suggest BFF tattoos.

She declined. Weird.

One of these things is not like the other…. meaning somebody [wearing green] doesn’t dress very fancy on a normal day. And she probably should. Also, same somebody [wearing green] has got to learn to curl her hair like everyone else does in this picture.

Amber started telling me about Joanna’s current single on country radio called “We Can’t Be Friends” and I was all, “Oh girl, I do not have time in my life for a song with that title.”

Obviously meaning that songs like that feel true x a million to me right now.

[Sigh... guy/girl friendships in your 30s in the 2010s are a complicated hot mess. At least, for me.]

So after Joanna and I decided that BFF tattoos were unnecessary but a friendship had definitely begun right there outside of the Macy’s, I came home and listened to her stuff.

Y’all.

Dang.

First of all, Amber styled this video for “Gettin’ Married” and when you watch it, you will say, “yep, that is a hilarious song and that Joanna is a doll and duh she and Annie were born to be friends.”

Then I listened to “We Can’t Be Friends” and sheesh. Her voice is supes beautiful and the lyrics are great and I could not like her sound more.

So what I’m saying is you should probably buy her EP and call your radio station and request her music and cheer for her forever.

Seriously. Isn’t Nashville the coolest town? I. Know.

[Also, I own red jeans. That needed to be stated again.]

You know those crazy college gals that I meet with every week? They spent the night. All of them, minus one. [You can twitter stalk the whole experience by looking up the hashtag #smallgroupsnoozle. It's funny.]

We had a crazy good time. I’m not gonna blog about how much they ate because they hate when I tell y’all that. And I’m not gonna blog about what we talked about or what we did because mainly, we just had a really great time together before they go home for the summer.

Thanks to my pal Embracing Grace, I found this killer recipe for pizza rollz. So we went for it. I got my sous chef Sarah into the kitchen and we got our roll on for realz.

We started just like the recipe described. Took crescent rolls, laid ‘em out, put on the turkey pepperoni and half a string cheese stick.

Easy cheesy. Literally.

That’s my Sous Sarah. She’s a doll. Here she is mixing Italian seasonings with garlic salt to make some sort of  powder drizzle for the top of the pizza rollz.

One thing we decided in our chef-ing [huh?] was that the rolls are better if you close the ends. But then my poor vegetarian could have been bamboozled by a pepperoni. We made some with just cheese on the inside, ya see. So we created an identification system. Tiny pepperoni triangles placed on top of the meaty rolls…. Sous Sarah is a genius.

How beautiful are THOSE? I know. The gals loved ‘em.

Serve it with a bowl of warm pizza sauce and whoa mama these are delicious. I would like to try to make them again with more veggies [by "more" I mean "some"] and maybe other meats? I dunno. I just think it is an easy starter recipe that has a bazillion combo possibilities.

Don’t judge our snack table. We’re growing girls.

We eat strawberries and oreos. My people, they are balanced.

And I miss them already.

[Wanna read more about my small group? They're amazing.]

I’m continuing to bulk up my Feeding The 13 board on Pinterest. Have more big group / low cost recipes that I can start collecting before the gals return in the fall?

The rest of you guys, let’s talk.

I turned in the edited manuscript for Perfectly Unique on Tuesday [a week ago today, to be precise] and then my brain needed a break so I went to see The Hunger Games, at 4pm, totally alone.

By totally alone I mean, I WAS THE ONLY HUMAN IN THE THEATER.

It was surreal.

And then about five minutes into the movie two other girls came in and I yelled, “Good! Now I feel normal!” Proving once again that I am, in fact, absolutely NOT normal.

I have read all three books of the series and I love them. Love love love them. I was worried the movie wouldn’t show me the story I had already seen in my mind’s eye, as tends to be the problem with books that become movies.

But truthfully, overall, I think they nailed it.

Favorite parts/thoughts:

- I love the costuming. I love how District 12 looks just how I picture West Virginia circa 1920. I think the Capitol outfits are amazing. The contrast between the two is visually shocking, isn’t it?

- I’m on Team Gale. Always have been, always will be. He’s a man.

- I appreciate how they handled the severe violence of the story. You knew what was happening [i.e- children killing each other], but you didn’t have to SEE it much. I know that was a big worry for lots of us going into the film. So I’m grateful for how they handled that.

- Jennifer Lawrence. The girl playing Katniss. My. Word. She was BORN for it.

- Woody Harrelson. Slam dunk. [Or should I say "Slam Drunk"? YOU ARE WELCOME.]

- Stanley Tucci. Stop it. But don’t. Ever. You’re too good.

[so what I am saying is the casting director needs a bonus check of a gazillion dollars.]

Truthfully, this list could go on and on. The scenery was beautiful, the camera work, the computer graphics, all of it. Suzanne Collins has to be pleased- the movie mirrored the book beautifully in so many ways. The soundtrack is stellar, the emotions are there in this. Y’all. I just loved it.

Least fav parts/thoughts:

- Peeta. Ehh. Not overly impressed. Never have been.

- One of the most moving parts of the first book is when District 11 sends bread to Katniss for her care towards Rue. I was sad this was left out of the movie.

- I feel like the depth of friendship between Katniss and Cinna wasn’t grown the way it was in the book. They tried to show it but without the details it looked rushed.

Overall? Yes and yes. Worth the read first, though, for sure. In fact, I regret not re-reading The Hunger Games before seeing it.

I do not, on the other hand, regret going to see a movie by myself. No one judged the size of my coke icee or made me take my feet off the chairs in front of me. So, I win. The odds were ever in my favor.

. . . . .

Have you seen the movie? Read the books? What was your favorite part? Least favorite part? I can’t wait to hear your thoughts!

Settle in for a little story, my friends. Nothing finer for your Monday, I would say.

Two years ago (2009-2010 school year), one of my part-time jobs [I had eight.] was being a math tutor. I love math. I love it so so much. So I tutored these two brothers, one in 8th grade and one in 10th grade. I liked them. They liked me. We had a friendship thing going on, even when I made them crazy [or visa versa].

I remember the last day I drove away from their house. The boys were ready for finals [I hoped!] and the school year was over. I prayed for them. I prayed for school, but more than that, I prayed for them as men- that they would grow and be influenced to be men after God’s heart.

I didn’t see those boys again the next year (2010-2011 school year) mostly because they are smarty-pants, but also because I moved to Scotland.

. . . . .

This December, when I returned home, I started volunteering at the college service at Cross Point. I quick made friends with some of the college students, including Connor and Keenan.

[Who, I will tell you, absolutely gave me permission to use their real names on the blog. Well, technically, Connor gave me permission for both of them. So Kennan's probably going to sue. Shoot.]

These are some quality men, much like the rest of the Cross Point Downtown crowd.

As the weeks went by, we would chat and we became pals. I have a soft spot in my heart for ministry to high school/college boys but being that I’m a single gal, the opportunities are very limited. But I love on them the best I can in this life place.

. . . . .

That is the back story. Here is where these worlds collide.

. . . . .

I went to a basketball game of my high school tutor boys in February and who walks in? Connor and Keenan. I was thrilled, because, you know, it was a surprise and I like them so much.

Do you know why they were at that game?

Because they are Young Life leaders. To my tutor boys.

Do you get that? Are you amazed?

Here I am, watching these two college men invest in the lives of high school boys that I prayed for two years ago.

Who is this God and how does He do it?

It makes me put my hand to my chest and bow my head and breathe out slowly- the amazement I feel about how God answered my prayers for these boys with more boys that I know and trust. Of all the Young Life leaders, of all the students, of all the schools- it’s my boys who connected.

I’ve teared up over it multiple times this spring. I’ve prayed strings of thankful words, for the high school boys, for the college guys, for Young Life, for Cross Point.

The way God weaves together our lives is a miracle, isn’t it? Every time. Yesterday, one of the high school boys and I sat in the stands together and watched my Cross Point boys play college baseball. And tomorrow, as Keenan and Connor and I sit in the stands and cheer for our high school friend in his last baseball game, my heart will be full.

Because these friendships right here? This woven piece of story? It’s a miracle.

. . . . .

What has God done to amaze you lately? 

. . . . .

Bonus Monday material: Connor cranked a GRAND SLAM yesterday. No kidding. Here’s the video.