Year: 2011

Y’all.

Seriously.

I woke up yesterday morning and checked the email. And then I checked the Twitter. Then I began to read your incredibly sweet comments and cried about forty-six different times. I don’t know when I’ve ever experienced such a complete outpouring of love and kindness and it made me want to write Al Gore a letter and thank him for inventing the internet.

By mid-morning the blog actually crashed. That’s unprecedented. At least for those reasons. It’s crashed because I’ve done something stupid in my WordPress dashboard, but it’s never crashed from sheer volume.

So, yes, I spent most of the morning reading comments and wiping my tears and thinking about Ephesians 3:20. And then I did what Ernest Hemingway most likely did after he announced his first book deal and scrubbed the toilets in both of our bathrooms and cleaned bird poop off our back door. Clearly it was day one of my glamorous new life.

Okay, so here are a few more quick details and then I’m going to quit talking about it. Basically I have discovered that writing a book is similar to giving birth to an elephant. Not that I’ve ever given birth to an elephant but I think I read somewhere that they gestate for like two years. I am very likely wrong about the specifics. But the bottom line is that elephants are pregnant for a very long time and by the time they deliver their bouncing baby elephant they can’t even remember how the whole thing happened in the first place except that it involved wine and romantic music.

Which doesn’t sound all that different from humans.

Anyway, I don’t know much right now except that my final manuscript (the official word for the whole book that I’m supposed to write) is due on April 1, 2012. And then I think it goes through a bunch of editing and typesetting and other -ings that I don’t know about yet. Finally, I will deliver a healthy baby book sometime in early 2013. I think.

I could be wrong about that. Just like I’m wrong about the elephant pregnancy.

Did I mention I scrubbed my toilets today and may be suffering ill effects from the fumes?

So what I’m saying is it won’t be available to give to your friends and loved ones for Christmas. But I promise I will keep you posted on all the critical dates and you’ll be the first to know when you can pre-order it and all that business.

I just hope real bookstores are still in business by the time it comes out because I’d really like to see it on actual shelves. Plus, Gulley has promised me she’ll go to every store in town and make sure it’s positioned front and center on the tables right inside the front door. After all, what are best friends for if not willing to get thrown out of Barnes and Nobles by security?

And I just have to say thank you again for yesterday. In between all the tears, I couldn’t quit smiling. It will go down as one of my favorite days.

Y’all are the best.

Okay, so I have some news.

And it’s news that I’ve been wanting to share for about the last six months but haven’t been able to for a variety of reasons, many of which involve my fear of putting myself out there and facing potential rejection.

But first I’m going to tell you the shortest version I can manage of the whole story. If you’ve been reading my blog for any length of time you know this would be a good time to get comfortable, maybe grab a pillow and some caffeine. Because, MY WORD, at the wordiness. Especially when I’m trying to find all the right words.

Three years ago (Do you see now why you might want a pillow? You’re probably thinking CUT TO THE CHASE, NANCY.) I went to a conference called She Speaks. The official reason I went was to teach a little course on blogging, which in and of itself is hilarious, but when Lysa Terkeurst invited me she mentioned it might be a great chance to put together a book proposal and meet with some literary agent/publisher type people. I wasn’t sure how I felt about the whole thing and had no idea how to translate my unique ability to write about nothing into some type of book format, but I decided I’d give it a whirl and came up with a proposal.

While I was there I met with an agent named Bill Jensen and liked him immediately. He promised to look over my proposal and said he’d try to get back to me in a few weeks. Then I met with a publisher who let me know she wasn’t interested. AT ALL.

Thank you. I will just go curl up in the fetal position and cry now.

And so I decided to let the whole book thing go. Until several months later when I received an email from Bill Jensen asking if I wanted to talk to him on the phone. So we talked. And then we talked some more. And then I kind of freaked out and felt overwhelmed by the whole thing and sent him what I hoped was a very nice email thanking him for his time but explaining that I was slightly neurotic and completely incapable of thinking about writing a book.

I’m a blogger. I blog. That’s what I do. And it allows me to talk about the kind of chips I bought at the grocery store and the cute shirt I found on sale at Anthropologie and I think we all know that Jane Austen never wrote a book about any of those things.

Of course Jane Austen also wrote fiction and I don’t do fiction because I prefer real life. She also wore petticoats. And probably wore her hair in a bun.

But over the last three years, the book thing (as I refer to it) has been the thing that God has not allowed me to let go of. I’ve gone through months where I’ve hardly thought about it at all, but then have had other days where the weight of it sat on me so heavy that it was like I’d forgotten to do something really important, like pick Caroline up from school or record Rachel Zoe on the DVR.

It’s just been there. Hanging out there. Like a big matzo ball.

Then I went to the Deeper Still Conference in Birmingham last December (You should feel thankful that I just fast-forwarded you through three years of tears and agony and conflict. It’s been like an episode of Dynasty in my head.) and that Saturday night went to a Compassion Bloggers’ reunion dinner. I had the opportunity to meet Ann Voskamp in person for the first time. Ann and I talked for a few minutes and she was every bit as wonderful as I knew she would be and then she asked, “Whatever happened to that book you were going to write?”

Dang. Ann Voskamp just softly dropped a hammer on me and she had no idea.

It took everything in me not to just put my head in her lap and cry, but instead I think I said something eloquent like “I don’t know”. And then she encouraged me to write in the way that only Ann Voskamp can encourage you. I will be forever grateful to her for that.

So I began to pray about the book thing and around mid-January I just knew I was supposed to email Bill Jensen and ask if he still had any interest in working with me. And I kind of told God that if I didn’t hear from Bill then I was going to drop the whole thing. Because, yes, I’m in charge.

Two months later I hadn’t heard a word back from Bill and I began to wonder if I’d said something in my email to offend him. I searched my sent items folder for the email and quickly discovered I’d sent it to the wrong email address because I’m an idiot who can’t be trusted with responsibility. So I re-sent the email and, I KID YOU NOT, five minutes later I had an email from Bill in my inbox asking when I’d like to talk on the phone.

And I think God was up in heaven kind of laughing at me.

Over the next few months, Bill helped me put a book proposal together and answered all 82,132 questions I had about the entire process. I spent weeks upon weeks at Starbucks typing my little heart out until the smell of coffee began to make me feel like I might have a seizure.

But here’s the moment in the whole thing that I will never forget as long as I live. About a week before we sent out the proposal, Bill and I were talking on the phone. It was mid-August and Caroline was sitting in the back seat, waiting on me to finish my conversation so we could go into Subway and order some truly mediocre sandwiches.

After I hung up the phone I said, “Babe, thanks for being so patient. That was an important call about the book.”

“Mama?”

“What, sweetie?”

“It has taken you a really long time to write a book.”

Since I’m never one to miss a teachable moment outside of Subway, I replied “Yes it has. But you know what? Sometimes in life the things we have to wait on the longest or work the hardest for turn out to be the sweetest things in the end.”

And then she said something that I know was God speaking through her right to my heart.

“Mama? Sometimes we have to walk to our future even when it feels like we want to run.”

Dang. My own daughter. Where did that wisdom come from? Whose kid is that? Is that one of Ann Voskamp’s kids in my back seat?

It was all I could do to not break down and cry right then. Because it has been a journey and the book has been a dream I’ve had somewhere deep down for as long as I can remember.

The proposal went out about a week later and I held my breath and told myself it didn’t matter one way or the other, that I had done what I felt like God had called me to do and the rest was up to Him. Honestly, I half-expected that maybe someone would offer to let me pay them $10 to get it bound at Kinko’s and sell it out of their garage.

But that’s not what happened.

When I got home from the airport on Sunday afternoon, I saw that this had come in the mail while I was gone.

That’s my official contract from Tyndale House Publishers. They’re going to publish my first (last? only?) book tentatively titled Sparkly Green Earrings. It’s going to be a memoir-ish type book about family and God and motherhood.

And now I have until April 1, 2012 to finish writing it. Which means if you need to find me I’ll be the one in the corner chair at Starbucks hyperventilating and typing furiously.

I’m excited. I’m overwhelmed. And I’m a little scared. But I am beyond grateful for those of you who show up here every day and encourage me so much. I am not kidding even a little bit when I say that none of this would have happened without you.

Thank you.

Caroline just walked into the living room a few minutes ago, long after she should have been asleep, and said, “Mama? I need some advice. I’m trying to go to sleep and I just can’t.”

“Have you closed your eyes?”

“No.”

“Then that’s my advice. Close your eyes.”

Because what I wanted to tell her was that someday she will be forty years old and her hormones will take over and she won’t be able to sleep for reasons she can’t understand but certainly have nothing to do with not being tired. And then she’ll have to go to Whole Foods to buy some kind of ALL NATURAL sleep supplement that she heard about from a friend. Then while she’s there she might buy a big tub of pimento cheese because another friend told her that Whole Foods has delicious pimento cheese.

And that friend was RIGHT. The pimento cheese at Whole Foods is delicious.

The verdict is still out on the ALL NATURAL sleep supplement. I’ll let you know how it turns out.

So I spent my day yesterday playing catch up from being out of town. I volunteered at Caroline’s school which is a nice way of saying that I wrestled with the Xerox machine until I might have kicked it. I struggle with turning two pieces of paper into one two-sided piece of paper. Apparently a college education can teach you how to live on a steady diet of powdered Donettes and Dr. Pepper, but is totally useless when it comes to learning the ways of the copy machine.

After I left the school I had to run to CVS to get a passport photo taken because my passport expires in January. The guy at CVS led me to the middle of an aisle, pulled down a white screen from out of nowhere and then told me to stand in front of it while he took the photo. I regret to tell you that he took the picture right as I was asking, “WHERE?” Of course it seems fitting that my new passport photo will be every bit as horrid as my old passport photo. I’m comforting myself with the theory that there’s no reason that the Customs Department in any country needs to think I’m even remotely intelligent.

Then I had to drop something off at Fed Ex. And the UPS store. Finally, I had to go the U.S. Post Office. I never visit the post office that I don’t think “Man, this place is really efficient! I’d like for these government folks to be in charge of my health care!”

Basically I spent my day mailing things and shipping things and going to Whole Foods for pimento cheese. And also some chicken salad. And some Texas caviar because it all looked so good.

I realize this is fascinating.

After I picked Caroline up from school we came home and relaxed for a while. Apparently it was some kind of official Family Night so she didn’t have any homework. Which meant I didn’t have to drink any wine.

We met Mimi and Bops for some truly average Chinese food. I really don’t like Chinese food under the best of circumstances and I assure you this was not the best of circumstances. As evidenced by the fact that we had to order at the counter from a big light up menu. But they wanted to try something new and the company was good even if the food made me renew my vows to stay away from all things Kung Pao.

After I got Caroline in bed, but before she came out to ask for advice, I attempted to read the book I bought in the Houston airport. It’s called Cleopatra. I bought it because I read the rave reviews on the back and thought I might enjoy a book about ancient Egypt, if for no other reason than to learn just enough trivial information to throw out at all the cocktail parties I never go to. What I failed to notice was the large print on the back that read “BIOGRAPHY”. Which explains why I read the first thirty-five pages thinking it was the driest novel I’ve ever read and who cares that much about the Nile River?

You know who cares? People who read biographies.

And now I’m going to take my own advice and go get in bed and close my eyes.

Right after I take my new ALL NATURAL sleep supplement.

Before I say anything else about the weekend I need to talk about the Aggie game. By all appearances it seemed like someone must have given a terrible half-time speech in the locker room. Or that maybe our quarterback’s girlfriend texted him to let him know she wanted to break up. How else do you explain the complete and total third quarter implosion? But I’ve decided that my days of letting my entire mood for the weekend be dictated by how a bunch of 18-22 year old boys play a game of football are over.

Until next weekend.

And obviously I think we all know that I’m thrilled with the official Aggies to SEC announcement that came yesterday afternoon.

But that’s not what I’m really here to discuss. I bet at least three of you would like to know how the dotMom conference went.

First, the bad news. My toenail (oh, I hate that word) didn’t even make it through Friday. When Sophie and I walked out on stage we had to kick a bunch of faux cinder blocks out of our way.

(I realize this makes no sense if you weren’t there. You’ll have to trust that there was a purpose and not just us doing an impersonation of the Incredible Hulk.)

(Not to mention that if we were going to do an impersonation of the Hulk it would make much more sense for us to lift the faux cinder blocks over our heads and throw them.)

Needless to say, the toenail didn’t survive that process. As soon as I began to say my opening lines, I realized my big toe was causing me a bit of pain. But I pushed through the pain because that’s what a good host does. However, I was traumatized when I finally got off stage and realized there was a jagged crack across the middle of the nail. I just prayed it could hold on for the rest of the day because I was wearing open-toed shoes and no one wants to see half a Lincoln Park After Dark painted toenail on display.

But the show (and the nail!) must go on.

Now for the good news. It was an incredible weekend. DotMom was the best conference. I went into it without a lot of expectations because I had no idea what it was going to be like and I had some serious questions about their choice of emcees. But, y’all, it was so good. Like go ahead and register for next year good. Seriously. Just click over to the registration page for more information.

Here’s a quick picture of a few of us this weekend. I’m going to post it because it’s the only picture I have in my possession to prove I was there.

(Not that it really proves I was there. It just proves I was with my friends in a room with a large bowl of salad.)

So you may be wondering why it was so good and if I’m just saying that. I’m not. I don’t just say things I don’t mean. Unless it’s to tell Caroline things like “if you say you’re bored one more time then I’m going to give away all your toys”.

I’m kidding. I’d never give away all her toys.

I’d sell them.

The platform speakers (Vicki Courtney, Angie Smith, Priscilla Shirer, and Angela Thomas) were incredible. But I knew they would be. Melissa Greene led worship and it was amazing. But the part that totally took me by surprise was how great the breakout sessions were. They really gave all of us a great chance to hear from other women that are walking the same road. I mean, obviously everyone was there because they want to be good moms so we all have a common goal. But I sat in on the session for moms with kids under age 13 and learned about sixty-eight new things. And not just from the women on the stage. I loved that women in the audience stood up and shared how they’d told their kids about puberty or how they’ve helped them with friend drama. It just seemed like everyone was able to really connect in a tangible way.

(I hope that makes sense. I am very tired. And spent most of Sunday afternoon drawing pictures with Caroline using scented markers. It’s possible I am high.)

Anyway, the whole weekend was so much fun and I loved getting to meet so many sweet blog readers. And naturally I loved getting to wear a headset mic just like Janet Jackson wore in her Control video.

(I wish I had a picture to show you.)

Oh, the Duggars also showed up. Like all forty-six of them. Nothing in life prepared me for that moment. Or the amazement I would feel when they all lined up by height in under six seconds before they walked out on stage.

And, much to my relief, I think Sophie and I must have done a decent job because they asked us to do it again next year. Naturally I’m going to need to negotiate to have green M&Ms and sparkling lime-flavored mineral water in my dressing room.

Which reminds that I also need to ask for a dressing room.

But I’m certain we’ll be back because we both had the best time. To those of y’all that were there, HUGE thanks for being so sweet and supportive. It meant the world to us. And HUGE thanks to the LifeWay team who did an AMAZING job. This conference had so many moving parts and I have no idea how y’all made all that magic happen.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch by which I mean back at our house in Texas, Caroline and P appeared to have a great weekend themselves. Especially if you judge greatness by how many times you get your face painted in one weekend.

(I was going to post a picture here of Caroline in her face paint but that function of my blog has decided to quit working.)

(This is terribly inconvenient.)

All of a sudden I’m at a loss for how to tie up this post, so I guess I’ll just tell you it’s safe to assume I’ll be back at the pedicure place later today trying to get some help for my toenail.

Or at HEB buying a big box of Band-Aids to cover that sucker up.

Because, sadly, it’s back to being 100 degrees here again and boots aren’t an option.

I hope y’all had a great weekend.

It was one of those days where I was all over the place. I’m not sure how this differs from most days, but I managed to put what felt like 60 miles on my car while only making repeated trips between our house and Caroline’s school.

I’m leaving for Birmingham tomorrow morning (which will be today by the time you read this) and so I’d agreed to eat lunch with Caroline because OH THE MOM GUILT that overtakes me when I leave for the weekend. But then we got a note home reminding us of the Book Fair and so I ended up spending half my morning at the book fair buying books and a soccer poster that I will live to regret. Then I dashed home to finish my fashion presentation for the dotMom conference this weekend because procrastination is alive and well at my house.

And then I ordered a couple of sandwiches for lunch, picked them up and headed back up to the school so we could catch up on everything we’d missed about each other in the forty-five minutes we’d been apart.

After I left the school I ran to get a quick pedicure. Not so much because I needed a fresh pedi, but more because my big toe incurred some sort of unfortunate injury that left the toenail in need of repair.

(For the record there are few words that gross me out more than “toenail”.)

(Also on my list would be “ointment”.)

Lucky for all involved in the dotMom conference, I was able to get my toenail repaired and then I headed straight to pick up Caroline from school. She had just enough time to grab a quick snack at home before I had to drive her right back to the school to interview the participants in a local parade for an after school class.

Thirty minutes later I had to go back to the school to pick her up, get her dressed for soccer practice, help her finish her math vocabulary (What’s a quotient? Who cares about quotients? Why can’t everything just be a sum?) and try to fix dinner while she and P were at practice.

Oh and then I needed to pack for my trip to Birmingham since my flight leaves first thing in the morning.

And I hadn’t even thought about what I was going to wear.

Which isn’t like me AT ALL and made me concerned I was coming down with the flu. Or the yellow fever.

Anyway, at some point I managed to get dinner on the table and homework in the folder and I fried up bacon in the pan and never let you forget that I’m a woman. Enjoli.

That commercial has been deeply embedded in my subconscious for most of my life. It also explains some lingering questions I’ve had about why my Nanny’s Fleetwood Cadillac always smelled like perfume. Because eight hours? That’s a long time for anything. Much less something that reeks of musk and orchids.

And now I realize I’ve told you about my entire day and this whole thing is probably completely boring and I feel really bad about that. I’d do something about it if I wasn’t so tired and just wanting to go to bed.

But I have to be up at the crack of dawn to finish cramming things into one carry-on suitcase and obsessing about all the things I’ve potentially forgotten that can’t possibly be purchased at a CVS store in Birmingham, Alabama.

All of this is a long way of saying that I’m not entirely sure that I’ll be able to write Fashion Friday. I know that makes at least three of you very sad but I just don’t think I’m going to have time. Rumor has it that I have to do things like soundcheck and memorize cue cards.

At least I think there will be cue cards.

What if there aren’t cue cards?

Now I’m never going to sleep.

(In case you have no idea what I’m talking about, Sophie and I are emceeing the dotMom conference this weekend in Birmingham. And I’m teaching a breakout session on fashion. And Sophie wrote a hilarious background post about the whole thing that you can read right here.)

(Also, if you’re going to be at dotMom this weekend please come say hi. My nerves and I would love to meet you.)