My friend Justin is from New York.  I am from Georgia.  And Justin says that a major difference between Northern and Southern parents is this- Southern parents make their daughters feel like they can do ANYTHING.  Never mind your skill set or ability, “baby, if you wanna do it, then darlin’ you can do it”.

I laughed when he said that, thinking, “He doesn’t get it.  They just love us and want us to know that the world is our mountain oyster.”

[If you get that joke, I apologize.]

Yesterday I had a discouraging defeating day professionally.  I got an email about some of my writing that literally sent my heart to the floor. I’ll be honest, I couldn’t even read the entire thing.  I read a paragraph, then closed my computer and watched TV through the blurring tears.  [The Cosby Show is soothing, I don't care what you say.]

Being that I don’t employ an assistant [currently], I knew I was going to have to finish reading the email myself.  So I put on my working woman face and read it.

And once the shock wore off and my mind began to clear, this popped into my head- Justin was right.

Just because I want to do something, doesn’t necessarily mean I can do it.  Example- I really REALLY want to play the piano, but I can’t. I want to be a back up singer, a famous actress, go on tour around the USA in a bus, and have my own cooking show.

And I really want to be an excellent writer and a competent editor.

I went to the Andrew Peterson Christmas show last night and the first 30 minutes devastated me.  Because I watched some of the people I respect the most as songwriters (Peterson, Osenga, Bebo) perform songs they have written that are so good it makes my insides hurt.

And then there’s me. Nashville’s most recent writing failure.

I was sitting next to my friend Sam and I kept thinking, “DO. NOT. CRY. ANNIE. DO. NOT. CRY.”, cause poor Sam did not sign up to deal with a face smack of my crazy.

And I didn’t cry.  Because I began to sense God calming my heart and speaking rationally to me.  Though Justin may be right and Mama may be wrong about my immense amount of skillz, I’m good, I’m just really new at this.  These dudes who write great music and words that cause deep emotion?  They’ve been doing it for YEARS.  This Christmas show alone has been going on for 9 years.  9 years ago I was a sophomore at UGA.  From then until now these musicians have been practicing their craft full time.

I have been practicing my craft full time since the neighborhood pools closed for the winter.  So.  That’s about 5 months.

I have to work harder and constantly improve as a creative person- in editing and writing.  And meanwhile focus on finding work in the areas that I really excel at- like this kind of writing, where we’re just talking. And writing that cracks you up. And editing stories that need flow and heart. And helping other writers sound better.

And I have to remember that I have time.  Time to get better.  Time to gain the experience I need.  Time to get paid enough to buy trendy clothes guilt-free.

Time to become the writer that the email says I’m not [but my Southern parents say I am].

__________

Tomorrow, an upbeat fun-to-read blog about the AP Christmas Show.  Sorry to be Debbie Downer two Fridays in a row.  Sheesh.

I’m going to direct you to Annie Parsons‘ blog post for today, because I think she explained our Wednesday night MUCH better than I can.

I’ll just say ALL THE SINGLE LADIES got together last night and had what some would call an eventful evening.

And let me just stop here and give big props to Annie P because when I called her and said “Get yourself down here right now because we are about 30 minutes into a REALLY GOOD TIME”, she said, “I’m in my pajamas….. but I’ll be there in 15.”  That’s a trooper, folks.

She also got MVP last night because she knew some friends at location #1 who invited us to location #2 which ended up being a riot.  [Not like the crazy, flame-throwing, tear gas kind, but the hilarious kind.]

I really want to tell you all about it, but some stuff is unbloggable.  It just is.  Partly because a broken heart is involved [not me] and partly because movie stars are involved [not me again].

But I think it would be okay to show you a bit of what we were doing.  This isn’t *exactly* us.  It is shockingly close, though. The main difference is that our leotards were red and green.  It is Christmas after all.

If you don’t love that, I don’t know you anymore.

So, I’ve got my fingers crossed that Thursday will be equally as awesome.  I get to go to my first show at the Ryman Auditorium- Andrew Peterson’s Behold The Lamb of God Christmas show.  All the cool kids will be there, so I obviously must attend as well.

I’ll give you a full update.  Don’t worry about that. Unless Annie P writes a better one.  Then I’ll just send you to her.  Again.

Mmmm…… chocolate covered pretzels.  And oh so fancy looking.  [The bizarro tint to this photo is because I took the picture while they were in the fridge.  Why I didn't just take them out for a moment is a question for the ages.]

This is my favorite Christmas treat to make. Well, that being said, I also really like the white chocolate with pieces of peppermint in it.  Really, you can combine anything with “white chocolate” and you will have my undivided attention.

I literally had to make 150 of these for Saturday, but 3 of them broke.  So I arrived at the party with only 147.  I was allowed in anyways.  Full of grace, that’s what these Nashville people are.

Seriously all you need for this recipe is three things.  Pretzels. White chocolate bark. Milk chocolate bark.  [Ok, and here is the thing.  Make this recipe your own.  Use peppermint extract, or pieces of peppermint, or sprinkles or smaller pretzels.  Whatever you want.  Here are some other options.]

I used one bag of pretzels, 1 full box of white chocolate, and only half a box of milk chocolate.

And seriously.  This is so easy.  Just melt the white chocolate in the microwave.  I use one of those big honkin’ glass measuring thingys. [Now I'm getting all technical in my terminology. Sorry.] Once the white chocolate is melted, just dip the pretzels in it and lay them on a wire cooling rack.  If you are putting piece of peppermint on them, you’ll want to do that before the chocolate completely cools.

To speed up the process, you can set them in the fridge to harden.  But I will warn you, that is when I lost the 3 pretzels.  Trying to bust them off the cooling rack after setting in the fridge was a challenge to be sure.

But once the chocolate has hardened, lay them on wax paper.  Then melt the milk chocolate.  Using a fork, dip it in the milk chocolate and start slinging it over the pretzels.  Very messy, which I tend to think is quite a joy.

[Please notice.  Broken pretzels in top left corner. DOH. And chocolate slung all over the place, including onto the knife block. DOH.]

Place these in the fridge to get all cool and tough [like me] and then they are ready to serve.  I have NO IDEA why I didn’t take a picture of the full tray of 147 pretzels because it was a MOUND O CHOCOLATE, I tell ya.  But I did snap a shot of Betsy enjoying said pretzels at the party.

Oh she is a happy party goer now, folks.  Yum.

And I also promised yesterday that I would tell you my favorite gift to give this year.  And that is THIS SHIRT.  For realz.  In fact, I placed my rather large order just yesterday.

Because not only do you give your friend/family/coworker/adopted inmate a new cool shirt, but you also get to pick which project the money supports.  And included with the shirt is a little card explaining the project.  Yeah, it is WAY awesome.

Now, if someone would just dip that tshirt in white chocolate, I could die in peace. Probably choking on a sleeve or something.

And in Annie world, “Christmas Tour of Homes” translates to “WOW.  Look at what Roomie has been doing while Annie watched episodes of Arrested Development on hulu.com.”

Because nothing fills me with Christmas spirit like television on the internet and Buster Bluth.  Agreed? Who’s with me?

[crickets.....]

And okay. On to the decorations.

On the door, a lovely star full of Christmas like things from the woods.

Trust me, if times get tough enough, I’m busting this thing open and having a snack.  Don’t put it past me.

The tree is super cute.  A short little guy, but I love him just the same.

I know, right?  Precious.  Roomie is quite the decorator.  And it has a bit of a red and black theme because we have a small obsession with love for the Georgia Bulldogs.  A little touch of gold never hurt anybody either.  And by little touch I assume you know I mean that delicate bow.

And I just liked this angle.

So there’s your tender Tennessee Christmas [that's for you, Robyn].  And here’s the real reason I don’t have any of my holiday items- I left all my decorations in Marietta and forgot to get them when I went home for Thanksgiving. So my nativity scene and my Atlanta Falcons ornaments and my Glory Haus sign are all huddled together in the cold storage unit asking themselves, “What did we ever do to her to deserve this?”.

And in shame I answer, “It’s not you.  It’s me.  And the size of my car that limits what items come with me to Nashville.”

Agreed.  I should have brought the baby Jesus and left the box of purses.

Merry Christmas, bloggy friends.

Come back tomorrow for my favorite holiday snack [I made 147 on Saturday for this guy's party] and my favorite gift to give in 2008 [I can't make these].

Have you ever found yourself avoiding?

Things?
People?
Responsibilities?
God?

Yeah, me too.

I have a pile of clean laundry that has been sitting in my laundry basket since last Friday.  [That will not be the sentence that gets me a marriage proposal anytime soon.] I haven’t been to the grocery store in a week or so, and to be honest, Multi-grain cheerios are awesome, but they are WAY MORE AWESOME with milk.

But it seems that all the areas of my life intertwine like cooked spaghetti. If I’m avoiding in one area, I’m avoiding in other areas. I haven’t called my parents today (which is out of the ordinary), I’m not sitting down and journaling, I’m not calling my bfries from home.

All acts of avoidance.

I haven’t done something bad. I promise. I mean, I have. I’m a sinner. But I’m not, like, eluding the police or anything.  [Speaking of police, GREAT STORIES! Coming Monday, why Annie fears police mucho. It's a ridiculous set of stories.]

I’m just avoiding opinions.  My friends’, family’s, my own, even God’s.

Do you ever find yourself in a situation where you just DON’T WANT TO KNOW WHAT PEOPLE THINK? It’s rare for me, but I’m there today.

I have this perpetual problem of sharing WAY TOO MUCH information with anyone who will slow down long enough for me to get my thoughts out.  It’s a great trait to have- everyone knows all my secrets and I’m ridiculously transparent with my friends and family.  And ridiculously vulnerable.  To opinions.  And traitors.  And opinions (did I mention that?).

I also like soliciting advice.  If I’m in a situation where I don’t know what to do, I want to call everyone I’ve ever known and get their thoughts.  Then I will put them all together and go with the choice that has the most votes.

[Co-dependent? Indecisive? Maybe a bit strange? Sure. Whichever you prefer.]

But I think the root of this is fear.  Fear that my own decision will be wrong. Fear that you [not YOU you, but the general you] will disagree with my decision or thoughts and by default, would I then be making the wrong decision?

I believe some would label me a “people-pleaser”. I think that is a mild way to put it.

For no reason at all, I also fear what God has to say about this too. Not every day, just today. My brain muddles up the facts so much that I can’t hear the truth anymore, especially when the truth seems to have a lot of faces, like a pair of dice. All the truth, just lots of sides. At least that is how it feels.

At some point in this, Captain Avoidance here is going to disappoint someone. Maybe my friends? Maybe my family? Maybe just by working so hard to please all of them, I will end up disappointing myself.

And I kinda hate that.

So I keep doing my thing, checking my email, reading my book club book, biting my nails, and doing whatever it takes to no longer think about the situations in which I can’t find an all-pleasing answer.

This is NOT a fun Friday blog.  I’m really sorry.  But my friend Candace says that bloggers never look weak or like they have issues.  But trust me, amidst the fun parties [with or without awesome dress], the great new friends, and the new found love of Nashville,

I’m still Annie.

I still disappoint myself and wish I was more like the me I can make up in my head.

The laundry needs folding.  I want milk in my cereal. I’m about to call my parents. And somewhere, in the deep part of me, the part that is officially greater than my fears, I want to hear God.

Now go and have yourself a fun weekend.

I’ve totally got you in the mood.

*We interrupt this regularly scheduled police blog talk (but keep the awesome stories coming!) to deal with a fashion heartbreak.*

Dear Overstock.com,

Last week, I was looking all over your website for a beautiful dress.  See, Overstock.com, I’m going to a semi-formal Christmas party on Saturday night.  I’m really excited about it.  Because I know we just met, Overstock.com, I’ll just confess that I’m not one for fancy attire or dresses in general.  But you had me at matte chiffon, Overstock.com. So I ordered it.

In blue.  Gorgeous, isn’t it? Great price, by the way.  And according to my fashionista friend Amber, it would like “great on my figure”.

Overstock.com, I don’t hear that phrase too much, so I was REALLY REALLY happy about the find.

And it was supposed to arrive on Tuesday.

But today, Overstock.com, I began to worry. So I checked on the order because it should have been here by now.  And you know what?  It’s BACK IN NEW JERSEY.  The website says that I “REFUSED THIS DELIVERY” at 6:19pm on Tuesday.

Do you know what I was doing at 6:19pm on Tuesday, Overstock.com?  I was sitting on my couch, eating turkey penne, and watching Reba.  I wasn’t refusing anything.  And no email or anything letting me know it was on the way and I should be looking for it?  Or that someone had tried to deliver it? Come on, Overstock.com.  That hurts.

So now, Overstock.com, you have broken my barely beating fashion heart.  What am I supposed to do?  You have no clue how fragile my dress wearing love is.  Your customer service guy couldn’t have been nicer, but he can’t get the dress her until Wednesday.

WEDNESDAY, Overstock.com! That’s way past fashionably late for this party.

So sadly, Overstock.com, I believe my first order with you shall be my last.  My sensitive self can’t handle this kind of party dress dilemma.  I have 48 hours to find a semi-formal dress.  Just that sentence makes me want to cry and throw up.  I’m not overly fashionable, Overstock.com, but I was in love with that dress. I know a cute dress when I see one.  And you can see it too- it’s in your warehouse in New Jersey.

[deep sigh of disappointment]

Headed to the mall with my head hung low,

Annie the Dress-less

I told you a few weeks ago about our little Study Buddy group. My friends Derek and Justin are both in seminary at Vanderbilt so they have to write these SERIOUSLY long and intense papers. [The brains at the table are unstoppable. I bring down the IQ significantly. But I bring the beauty factor up significantly too, so it all balances out in the end.]

And much to my advantage, the dudes work better at night. So about once a week, we head to the Vandy Student Center where we sit and focus on our computers and whatever is in our headphones; once an hour or so we take a two minute break to discuss important things like premier league soccer and middle names.

And last night, latkes. Because that’s what the Jewish center was offering students for free. The boys said they were delicious. I passed- the idea of eating fried potato at 1:45am seems “counter productive” to me.

And with that history in place, here is where the story picks up. Because as this was unfolding, I actually texted Justin and said, “Moments like this are EXACTLY why I have a blog”.

So I got there first last night, around 10:30pm. In just a few minutes, I see Justin drive up and make a u-turn to park behind me. Within one second, literally, blue lights are flashing and a Vandy cop is on his tail.

And if you know me at all, you know my immediate reaction was PANIC. Was I being pulled over? Nope. Was I doing anything illegal? Double nope. But because I have a deep DEEP fear of police, my heart began to race and my palms began to sweat.

Then I get a text from Justin- “I’m here”.

Huh. Ya don’t say? You know what? I actually noticed. Because at this point, not only has he been pulled over, there is a cop at his door, the passenger door, and another squad car pulled up next to him.

[Wow. Vandy cops take illegal U-Turns REALLY seriously.]

Because the cop made Justin GET OUT OF THE CAR. At this point, I’m not laughing at all, but I am grateful for this ole blog cause I’m thinking “this is going to be a GREAT story”.

Here’s what’s running through my mind as I see my friend (and Bible study leader, by the way!) walking a straight line heel to toe:

1. If Justin goes to jail, I do not even know where the jail is. This could be a problem.
2. His fiance is going to KILL him.
3. I know he’s sober, he just led our small group one hour ago. And he doesn’t drink.
4. Will I have to go to jail because I know him? [Irrational, but cops have that effect on me.]
5. I hope they don’t search my car for drugs. I mean, I don’t have any, but knowing my nerves, I would cry so much that they would think I do.
6. Do I really know these guys as well as I think I do? Maybe he IS a criminal.

In the end, he was released into my custody with just a ticket for being a crappy driver. Which I will never [no not ever] let him live down.

And really, there is no point to this story except to say I am still a little unnerved from the whole experience. And I love my study buddies.

What about you? Ever been pulled over? Ever walked the straight line? Don’t tell me too much, seriously. I will get all sweaty and nervous just reading about it.

**Before we get into the post, let me give a shout out to the Genius at the Apple Store who lovingly took my computer out of my line of vision and beat it into submission. And now her bumps are gone and she works like a charm. Albeit a two year old charm that needs a new battery, but a charm none the less. Thanks for your concerns. Apparently we all have strong emotions towards our computers. We are sick, sick puppies. Good thing we found each other.**

It’s late at night and I have a lot going through my mind. [Not the least of which is thoughts of a THROBBING CANKLE.  For the love- will this ever end?!?] It’s been raining in Nashville for twelve hours straight. There is something calming about a constant rain. And they say that we will wake up with snow? I’ll believe it when I see it, Channel 4 Weather Team.

I’ve spent a lot of time recently thinking about why I’m in Nashville.  Even though I totally love it, I still don’t know that I understand why I’m here instead of there or there or out there. I want, real bad, to be able to say

Dear World,

Here is why God moved me to Nashville.

Sincerely,

Annie

But I don’t think it is going to work like that. Like an onion and Shrek and other things with layers, I think it will be revealed in parts.

Maybe because of Mocha Club?  Totally- I have never loved a non-profit (or the people who work for a non-profit) like this before.  Barrett, the prez of MC, and I talked last week about some non-Mocha junk in my life and that man spoke big brother TRUTH to me. And in that moment, I was sure that Annie + Mocha Club = something that’s been up God’s sleeve for a while now.

Maybe because Nashville and I were just meant to be together all along? I love live music. I love creative people. I love the size of the city. I love having my heart stomped by a well written song. I love Baja Burrito. [If you are ever in town, let me know and we will eat there. And you will love it.] I love brave people who take risks to create art. I love serious conversations over a bottle of wine that result in a chapter written or a song recorded or a photograph edited differently.  And this place overflows with that- beautiful moments turned into art.

Maybe because God loves me? A few winters ago, God and I had a theme.  A serious theme of LOVE.  Me understanding His love.  Grasping His love.  Practically drowning in the sea of His love for me.  Not for the world, not for my friends, but for ME.  Annie the Impossibly Flawed being fully known and fully loved. And maybe that’s why I’m here, too.  Because I think this move has been the greatest exclamation of His love for me.

Why do I tell you all of this?  Because you were there when I visited Nashville for the first time, you were there in when I decided to move, and you were there when I cried the whole 3.5 hour drive from Atlanta with a van full of my things.

And now you are here with me. And I want you to know something- IT HAS ALL BEEN WORTH IT.

I tell you this because you never know when God is going to call you to something crazy. He probably will.  And when He does, say yes. PLEASE. Even if you don’t know why. There may be 1000 reasons that He calls you to move, stay, stand, sit, whatever. I don’t know your story, so I don’t know all the whys. But I can promise you that one of them is this- because you need to be loved. And God is always looking for ways to love.

Dear World,

God moved me to Nashville because He loves me.

Sincerely grateful,

Annie

So I don’t know if I told you, but our heat went out about 2 weeks ago, the Sunday before Thanksgiving. And I don’t know if you have heard, but it is SERIOUSLY COLD in Nashville. As in, I can’t form complete sentences when I’m outside. I just shiver and say things like “ffrrozzen” and “Oh. My. Cuh-cuh-cuh-core temperature”. Things of that nature.

When the heat goes out, that is BAD. So being the brave little soldier that I am, when the heat broke- I packed up and drove to Atlanta. [I am totally tough as nails.]

I grabbed all my things quickly to escape the tundra that was my bedroom. In haste, I tossed my computer onto my laundry basket. I grabbed the basket and headed towards the door.

[This is where things get painful. Consider yourself warned.]

Saying goodbye to the Roomie with the basket sitting on my hip, sweet little computer decided to jump ship.

And four bounces on a hardwood floor later, I wanted to cry and poop my pants. In no particular order.

Because this happened.  [deep heart-felt sigh]

[Spence and Randy, are y'all proud of how I labeled the pictures in this post? I'm such a good student.]

Anyways, so the other computer-dropping result has been internal- a LOONEY battery.  For example, pre-drop, a charge would last for about 2.5 hours.  Today, apparently….

463 hours?  That would be 20 days. Wowsa. And…. then it died in 35 minutes.

So. Needless to say. My computer has lost it’s ever-lovin’-mind.

Monday morning Computer and I have an appointment at the Mac store. And I’m afraid they are gonna pull a Big Mama on me and take it away for days.

DAYS, people.  DAYS.  Just thinking that makes me feel all yucky on the inside.

I blame Winter.  It’s on, Winter.  You versus me.  Mano y Season-o.

Bring it. I don’t fear you. I have coats and sassy scarves.

Uh…. please…. just don’t mess with my computer anymore.

In recent times I have not put lyrics in my posts. [I don't know an exact date so I have no clue whether to say "weeks" or "months" here, so I take the less risky road and say "times". I'm guessing you don't care, but alas. It's already said.]

But EVERY.TIME. this song comes on my iPod or iTunes, it changes me.  It’s by Sara Groves, who in my personal opinion, does absolutely all things right musically and lyrically.

I’m sure she is a flawed human, but I have no proof of that.

Anyways, read these lyrics.  Please.  And hug them to your soul.

__________

Morning by morning I wake up to find
The power and comfort of God’s hand in mine
Season by season I watch Him, amazed
In awe of the mystery of His perfect ways
All I have need of, His hand will provide
He’s always been faithful to me.

I can’t remember a trial or a pain
He did not recycle to bring me gain
I can’t remember one single regret
In serving God only, and trusting His hand
All I have need of, His hand will provide
He’s always been faithful to me.

This is my anthem, this is my song
The theme of the stories I’ve heard for so long
God has been faithful, He will be again
His loving compassion, it knows no end
All I have need of, His hand will provide
He’s always been faithful, He’s always been faithful
He’s always been faithful to me.