J became an Anne Riley Books sensation, attracting a multitude of page hits and comments. People loved it. They wanted more. So I begged asked J to consider watching New Moon and humoring me with another live-tweet event.

And HE AGREED.

So without further delay, I give you:

J THE DUDE’S NEW MOON TWEETS

The following tweets were posted on the evening of January 24, 2012, by one “J the Dude.” All times are accurate so as to preserve the questionable integrity of this post. Comments in parentheses are my own. 

7:37 pm: Obviously, this is a dream. The old woman is terrifying. Wait–that’s her, isn’t it?!? BOOM!

7:41 pm: This long-haired character is a creeper. Why doesn’t the vampire eat him?

(Me to J: Which long-haired character?)

Although J did not respond immediately, I found out who he was talking about soon enough.

7:46 pm: French vampires?!?! Whoaaaaaa. They ripped that vampire apart. Where is all the blood? (I don’t think vampires have blood. That’s part of the reason they’re so cold. That, and they’re, you know, dead.)

7:50 pm: This dialogue is brutal.

7:53 pm: Well, I bet that wasn’t nominated for Best Kiss. (That scene is pretty much the most awkward thing ever. It’ll make you never want to kiss anybody ever again.)

7:57 pm: If I was watching this in a theater, I would be booing. They would have to escort me out. Unless I was on a date . . . then I’d keep it classy.

7:58 pm: Of course, if I was in the theater watching this and not on a date, I would allow (his friend) to punch me in the face.

At this point, one of our mutual friends chimed in to ask if J was, in fact, live-tweeting a Twilight movie . . . again. 

(J to the friend: Yes, @AnneRiley made me do it.)

(Me to both of them: True. This is all my fault.)

(Another friend to me and J: It takes two to tango.)

8:11 pm: The long-haired dude’s name is Jake? Ugh.

At this point I shall reveal that J’s first name is, in fact, Jacob–and he goes by Jake. He gave me his blessing to publish that bit of information about him by saying, “Do whatever you need to do.” Thanks, J. (I guess I can call you Jake now, but for some reason, I prefer to stick with J.)

Anyway, after Jake’s comment about Jake’s name being Jake (because that wasn’t confusing at all), the following exchange took place between us because I had just realized that Jacob was the “long-haired creeper” he referred to at the beginning of the movie.

(Me to J: Do you not remember him from the first movie?)

(J to me: No . . . I tried to repress . . . Oh my gosh he is taking his shirt off. This is pathetic.)

8:15 pm: Friends, if I am ever in the habit of screaming at the top of my lungs in the middle of the night, please check me into a hospital.

8:24 pm: High school date with a third wheel. Been there . . . as the third wheel. LOL at the guys holding their hands out during the movie.

8:32 pm: Jake just pulled the George Costanza “it’s not you it’s me” line. #Plagiarism

8:37 pm: Oh crap. That vampire just scared the heck outta me.

8:40 pm: What the heck?!? That’s a big freaking wolf!

When J and I were at college together, we went to the same church. Our former pastor is on Twitter and was witnessing J’s New Moon tweets in real time. At this point he chimed in with his own comment on the matter, suggesting that as J viewed the movie, he was also “mowing through a tray of pizza bites, half a carton of ice cream, a sleeve of Girl Scout cookies, and crying softly.”

8:44 pm: Please tell this young werewolf gentleman to put a shirt on . . . and Bella is a —-.

(Me to J: I’m gonna have to edit that one.)

(J to me: Pales in comparison to the vulgarities I’m screaming from my couch right now. This movie is crazy.)

9:05 pm: I would like to know who wrote and authenticated the treaty between the werewolves and the vampires. (That’s a good question, actually. Does anyone know the answer?)

9:12 pm: Ah, now I understand the foreshadowing of the Romeo and Juliet stuff at the beginning. Can’t believe I missed that.

9:16 pm: Okay, this is getting intense. #ThingsICantBelieveImSaying

9:21 pm: This Edward/Bella love connection looks like a drunken hookup that you would only find late-night at a college bar. (Klassy.)

9:22 pm: Wait, is that the little girl from War of the Worlds? Dakota something? (Fanning, and yes, it’s her. Also? She was on the cover of Cosmo this month. Not sure how I feel about that.)

9:29 pm: Are the werewolves about to show up? That would be awesome! (I don’t know exactly what part you’re at, but if Dakota Fanning is there, then . . . no.)

9:45 pm: Uh oh. Wedding in Part 3? What if there are werewolf wedding crashers, that would be awesome. I see a spinoff . . .

9:46 pm: First half of the movie was terrible. Second half was better. I’m looking forward to Part 3. (So are we, J. So are we.)

*          *          *

Immediately after this last tweet, my phone rang. Given that this was Night #2 of my battle with the WALKIN’ pneumonia, I sort of grumbled “Hello” and basically just listened as he went into further detail about his “Werewolf Wedding Crashers” spinoff idea.

The bottom line? J the Dude is . . .

*IMPORTANT UPDATE* It’s J the Dude’s BIRTHDAY today! Happy birthday, Jake!

By which I mean, we have Walking Pneumonia.

Somewhere in the depths of my lungs, this beautiful yet deadly germ has made itself a cup of tea, kicked back in a recliner, and settled in for the long haul. GET OUT, BEAUTIFUL GERMS, GET OOOOUUUTTT.

What’s really funny about this (actually, the ONLY funny thing about this) is that several weeks ago I was making fun of him for going to the doctor when he CLEARLY had nothing but a cold, and he said (please hear this with an exaggerated southern accent):

“But what if I’ve got the WALKIN’ Pneumonia?”

I wish I had a recording of the way he said it, because it cracked me up to the point that I fell on the floor laughing and could not get up for several minutes.

SEVERAL MINUTES. No lie.

Nothing tickles me more than when my husband plays up his accent.

ANYWAY.

What I’m getting at is that we had a good long laugh about the fact that he DOES have the WALKIN’ Pneumonia this time around, and then we stopped laughing and realized I’d been feeling sick too, so I went to the doctor and had myself a little chest x-ray, and guess what?

It was the WALKIN’ Pneumonia.

Which, if you think about it, is quite inaptly named, because the LAST thing I’ve been doing is walking. They should really call it Consistent Napping Pneumonia, or maybe Can’t Shower Because You WILL Pass Out Pneumonia, or By All Means Do Not Expect To Think Coherently Or Be Productive In Any Way Pneumonia.

But, alas: Walking Pneumonia it is.

So we’ve taken the wee one to her grandparents’ house until Ye Olde Germs can be banished from our bodies and also from the house, and I’ve got big plans to Clorox everything in sight tomorrow as I am staying home from work YET AGAIN.

Whoever made this cartoon, I need you to come to my house and clean All The Things, because I will probably be crawling around with a Clorox wipe in each hand, throwing them in the general direction of the furniture and then sleeping for six hours straight before attempting to clean again.

(Update: the picture came from this blog.)

Since I can’t think of a single relevant or interesting thing to say on the blog today, I thought I’d give you a few things to read by some people who are exponentially more lucid at the moment. I found these posts to be VERY helpful with writing and also very encouraging. Even if you are not a writer, you will enjoy some of these because they relate to all parts of life.

So, here we go. (All posts will open in a new window, so CLICK WITH ABANDON, my friends.)

1. Veronica Roth has this GENIUS post about explanations and writing, and she relates it all back to Project Runway. I *highly* recommend this for any of you who are writers. She hit the nail on the dadgum head.

2. Rachelle Gardner posted about her own struggles with jealousy in the agent world (this is one of those that will be good for everyone to read).

3. Kiersten White shows us how the first section of her manuscript for PARANORMALCY changed from Draft One to Final Draft. It was fascinating for me to see what she changed and why, and I think it’s a great thing for writers at any stage to look at.

4. Aimee Salter has a series of posts up right now about self-editing and how to tighten your writing. This is my favorite because it addresses modifiers. Again, I found it immensely helpful for writers at any stage. If you have time, read the others–she knows what she’s talking about. Which is probably why she runs her own editing business.

And finally,

5. Natalie Whipple wrote about her struggles with comparing herself in every way to others. The idea is similar to Rachelle’s, but she says it in a different way, and I needed to hear it. (Applies to everyone, not just writers!)

Alright y’all, I’m going to go make some mac & cheese, then continue to lie on the couch in my (dirty) pajamas. (Believe me, it’s not as fun as it sounds.) I hope to be back in full force by Thursday!

*

It’s 5:30 pm and I’m late for my date with Harley May. I pull into the Whole Foods parking lot at a reckless speed of 7 miles per hour. Pedestrians dive for the sidewalks, dogs yip in terror, small children wail into their mothers’ legs as my Ford Fiesta cruises each aisle in search of a parking space. Who knew Whole Foods was such a hoppin’ place on a Friday night?

Against all odds, I slip into a space mere dozens of minutes before someone else surely would have stolen it. I barrel-roll out of the driver’s seat and click the “lock” button over my shoulder while doing the Mom Shuffle (a quick walk-run, usually done while crossing a busy street, even when no cars are coming) to the door. 

Harley has invited me to a “Cleanse and Detox” event at the Whole Foods. She’s already in line for some yummy squash-apple-pine nut-cranberry concoction. I spot her quickly because she’s in a super hot red dress with high-heeled boots. She looks amazing. I look sort of like this. 

We get our plates of fiber-rich foods and samples of wine, then sit down on the back row for the presentation. A woman stands in front of us and begins to move her mouth. Either she’s a mime, or there’s some trouble brewing with the acoustics in this place. 

Me: Can you hear what that woman is saying?

Harley: No. The grocery store music is really loud. Also, next to the bathrooms might not have been the greatest location for this.

[We hear a toilet flush as several small children race out of the bathroom, give us a suspicious glance, and run to their parents.]

Me: What does she have in that bucket?

Harley: I think she just said it was some sort of oatmeal.

Me: Oatmeal in a bucket?

Harley: [laughing]

Me: What? What did she say?

Harley: She said our goal should be to “eliminate” three times a day.

Me: …………………..

Harley: Poop.

Me: AH. Well why didn’t she just say “poop”? That reminds me of when I was pregnant and my doctor kept talking about how often I would have the “urge to void.”

Harley: …………………….

Me: Pee.

Harley: Look, she said it again! I think we should take a sip of this wine every time she says the word “eliminate.”

Me: We’re gonna need more, then. Is this even alcoholic? Because this brochure keeps talking about how you shouldn’t drink alcohol. I’m pretty sure this is non-alcoholic wine.

Girl Next To Us: I don’t have any fillings.

Me and Harley: [side eye]

Girl Next To Us: She’s talking about fillings. How toxic they are. Do you have any fillings?

Me: Um, yes. But they’re porcelain.

Harley: [not paying attention to us]

Me: Yep, porcelain fillings. Fancy porcelain fillings.

Girl Next To Us: I never had braces, either.

Me: Really? I had them twice. I hate you.

Girl Next To Us: [frightened look]

Harley: Oh my gosh, she’s talking about the oatmeal in the bucket again. She just said something about how someone had to go to the hospital after they ate that stuff.

Me: What?! Hang on–are they spooning out samples for us? No way, dude. I’m not eating that.

Harley: Oh come on, don’t you want to eat “oatmeal” that came out of a bucket and that might put you in the hospital?

Me: I’m seriously afraid of the elimination possibilities here. Let’s just take a picture and then throw the killer oatmeal away.

After the first speaker, Harley and I “went out to my car to get my phone,” then accidentally got in and drove away. Oops. We decided to walk around the shopping center for a while before meeting our friend E. for yogurt. On our walk, we happened to pass a wedding dress shop with a sign in the window that read, “We have Bella’s wedding dress.”

Harley: [mouth open] I hope you know we have to go in there.

Me: Um . . . yes.

Harley: [as we enter the store] Quick, hide your wedding ring.

Me: What? There’s no time!

Wedding Store Girl: Hello ladies, may I help you?

Harley: Um, no thanks, we’re just looking.

Wedding Store Girl: [eyes our ring fingers]

Me: We’re here to see the Twilight dress.

Wedding Store Girl: Aha. No problem, I just got it off the mannequin for someone else a few minutes ago. [walks over to a counter and picks up the dress] Here you go.

Me: Wow. Thanks.

Wedding Store Girl: You should probably hold it up and take a picture with Edward.

Me and Harley: [slow turn to see a life-sized cardboard cutout of Edward Cullen in his wedding tux]

Me: Yes, you’re probably right about that. Hold on, let me get my Bella face on.

Harley: [as we leave the store] That was amazing.

Me: Mmmmm. We should go on dates more often.

There’s only one way to find out.

You take a deep breath, reach for the handle, and pull. This time, your fingers don’t slip. You’re in the room, and they see you. They’re watching. And there’s no turning back now. 

You focus on walking. That’s it. That’s all you can think about. Just walk to the front of the room like you know what you’re doing. Don’t make eye contact. They can sense fear, and if you come off as anything less than 100% confident, they’ll pounce.

“What is she wearing?” you hear someone whisper.

“Impossible,” they shouted, while making that half-wave gesture that always seems to accompany the word “impossible.”

But I tell you the truth, ladies and gentlemen: Anne Riley has followed through on something she said she would do.

*Cue wild applause, throwing of confetti, prancing Zebras, wand-wielding magicians and cats riding unicycles*

Only three days after declaring to the world my intention of making 2012 a year of adventurous living, I actually went out and had myself an adventure. Can you believe it?

Yeah . . . me neither.

The fam and I packed up and headed down to Point Clear, Alabama, located in a part of the state affectionately known as The Tail.

We stayed right on Mobile Bay, so we spent time watching the boats . . .

and talked to some shockingly uncooperative ducks . . .

and did our best CHiPs impressions . . .

and ate some awesome Cajun food while perusing the local real estate market . . .

and checked out some beautiful artwork.

Of course, these photos are just the tip of the iceberg, but I’m happy to say that 2012: A Year Of Adventurous Living is off to a strong start. We’ve got two more adventures coming up in the next couple months. I won’t say exactly when or where we’re going because I am wary of the potential danger of announcing my whereabouts to the internet (I’m looking at you, Foursquare), but rest assured you’ll hear about it when we return.

Oh, and guess what? I’m going to my second Zumba class tonight. I went last week and didn’t die. Miracles really do happen.

Have a fabulous Tuesday, friends.

1. I’m currently in the midst of my first 2012: A Year Of Adventurous Living adventure. What could it be? Well, that’s under wraps until Tuesday, but I’ll give you a hint:

Swing loooooow, sweet chariot…

What can I say, guys. Sometimes, adventurous living lands you in the big house. Good thing they let me keep my own clothes instead of making me wear those horrible jumpsuits. And it was super nice of them to let me keep my purse. And, um, they have wireless internet that I can use with my mind to telepathically post blog entries from my SERIOUSLY OLD jail cell.

Aaaaaanyway.

2. I haven’t written anything in CREEPY FACES for over 24 hours. And really, after 12 chapters’ worth of writing every single day (AFTER I’ve already worked a full day at school), I needed a break. So I’m excited to say that this is the first time I’ve been on my computer since Friday.

Ahhhhh. Sometimes you just need to unplug. Even if it means getting a little bit behind on your writing schedule.

Don’t be sad, Laptop. We’ll be back to our regular schedule on Tuesday, as soon as they let me out of the slammer. Also, you look like maybe you’re from the year 2001.

3. I want to buy every scarf in the world. I might have a problem.

What I would look like if I had all the scarf money in the world. 

4. I think I’ve chosen the wrong celebrity crush. I know I said I like Drew Brees now, but lately I’ve realized the portion of my heart I reserve for unrealistic and meaningless celeb crushes has become strangely cold toward the “Who Dat” quarterback.

Instead, it’s leaning toward someone I’ve crushed on before. Someone a bit more artsy. Someone who seems to be permanently attached to hats.

Oh, Gav. It’s been so long since that night at Workplay Theatre back in 2003-ish, when our eyes met across the heads of all those other girls–you know, the ones that DIDN’T grab your attention?–and I heard very clearly the words that you didn’t say out loud (because with a connection like ours, who needs to say REAL WORDS?):

Oh, Anne, you telepathed to me. Even though you’re clearly the most beautiful girl in the world and we are destined to be together, it just wouldn’t work. I travel a lot. So we’ll have to settle for being a starcrossed and tragically separated couple.

‘Kay, I thought back at you.

And then I’m pretty sure you winked, and maybe I gave you a thumbs up, and we just knew. 

Oh, Gav. You didn’t have to go and change the title of your song over it.

Seriously, though–and this part isn’t a seekrit–I have rediscovered Gavin’s music and it’s just so awesome. I don’t ever blog about music, so you know this is something special. The songs I’m listening to over and over are from his new album, Sweeter. There are three I can’t quit playing: “Not Over You,” “Candy,” and “Radiation.”

Have a great MLK Day tomorrow, y’all. Hopefully I’ll be out of jail soon, cuz like, I gotta go to work on Tuesday.

You may have seen me considering it on Twitter, when I asked if anyone else had thought about saying “Goodbye” to Goodreads. I was surprised at the number of people who responded with a hearty YES!

Seems I’m not the only one with Goodreads-related issues.

There were also a few people who asked why I wasn’t happy with the site. And I get why they were confused. On the surface, Goodreads is a cool social network for booklovers. It’s easy to use, it looks pretty, and it has all kinds of cute little widgets you can install in various places.

However, those pros did not make up for the cons I kept having to deal with. And so, Grasshoppers, allow me to explain why I chose to vacate Goodreadsville before I completely and totally lost my mind.

The first two reasons are simple: childish behavior on the parts of both authors and reviewers (I’m sure you’ve all seen the Goodreads drama that has unfolded on two separate occasions within the past month, so I’ll refrain from posting links) and ineffectiveness as a marketing tool for myself as a writer.

But this is what really sealed the deal for me: Goodreads always made me feel pressured to leave favorable reviews–no matter how I actually felt about the book.

Allow me to elaborate.

I’m often asked to review books, and nine times out of ten, the author is someone I know–either in real life or online. So what do I do if I don’t like the book? Do I give honest feedback in such a public forum? Do I try to express my opinion in a sugarcoated way?

Unless I want to permanently damage my relationship with that author, I have to leave a good review. Regardless of my actual opinion. Regardless of what will happen when a friend of mine sees that good review and reads the book for themselves, then wonders why I raved about something they didn’t like at all.

Yeah, that has actually happened.

Just the other day, a friend mentioned that she’d read a book after seeing my review of it on Goodreads. She had this funny look on her face, and said, “I didn’t really like it as much as I expected to. What did you love so much about it?” At which point I had to confess that I’d only given such a favorable review because the author is an online friend of mine, and I didn’t want to hurt their feelings. I also knew they would notice if I didn’t leave a review at all, so to maintain the friendship, I gave the author what I knew they wanted. I raved.

I raved about a book I didn’t like that much. (Spoiler alert: That book wasn’t the only one.)

Because of those dishonest reviews, I’ve had to follow up with blurbs, giveaways, and favorable comments to the authors themselves. Basically, Goodreads led to a web of lies, and I HATE that.

The worst part is this: I bet there are several people who left favorable reviews of The Clearing simply because they know me, and they felt pressured to.

*vomit*

I want any reviews I do to come from a place of true love for the book, not a place of obligation or pressure. Knowing that someone read a book because of my glowing recommendation–knowing they might not trust me any more when I say I loved something–makes me feel icky inside.

So I’m not reviewing anymore. At all.

Now, if I find myself particularly in love with a certain book, I’ll mention it here on the blog. But those mentions will be few and far between. I’m going to become very sparing with my blurbs, and if I’m asked to review or blurb something I don’t love, I probably just won’t respond.

Ugh. I hate having to be like this. But alas, it seems to be the only solution.

I don’t know if my reviews are still active on Goodreads or not. I hope they’re all gone. I haven’t checked. Goodreads certainly has its place and I’m not telling you all to delete your accounts too. But for me, it was creating too much stress.

How do you handle a situation in which you’re asked to review a friend’s book–and then you end up not loving it? What in the world do you do?

*

On January 1, I blogged about a few things I’d like to do differently this year.

A few days later, I told you I’m about to start counseling.

And today I’d like to tell you about my year of adventurous living.

The new year always brings a sense of hope with it, don’t you think? A feeling of newness, of starting over. Erasing all the stupid mistakes we made over the past 365 days and staring at a blank chalkboard / canvas / dry erase board / whatever you write your life on inside your head.

For me, it’s a chalkboard. And today, for the first time, I really stepped back and looked at my 2011 chalkboard. Examined it. Thought about what was written on it–and what wasn’t.

Here’s what I realized:

I didn’t do much in 2011. In fact, you could sum up my year in a very short list:

1) Cared for new baby.

2) Went to work.

3) Got stressed out about clutter.

4) Thought about things I’d like to do, then decided they were too much trouble and did something easier.

5) Wrote a new book.

That’s . . . it. I mean, obviously, that’s not REALLY it. But by and large, yeah, that’s it. And in thinking about it, I had to wonder: How much of my resentment and negative thought patterns is coming from the fact that I am not living adventurously?

Probably a lot.

I am, by nature, an adventurous person. I love to do new and unexpected things. My college life was VERY adventurous. I did Little Adventurous things, like speaking to strangers in my classes or exploring a previously unknown section of campus.

And I did Big Adventurous Things, like moving to Spain for a semester by myself. I also bought a plane ticket to New York for New Year’s Eve 2005, on a whim, with no place to stay and no guarantee that anyone would go with me.

(People went, by the way. And one of them was my future husband. And we stayed in the coolest hotel ever.)

But things have changed a bit since I became an “adult.” The last time I did anything Big Adventurous was March 2009, when Rob and I roadtripped it to Chicago. We had no reason to go except that we’d never been. We didn’t plan anything besides where we would stay, and it was one of the best trips I’ve ever been on.

(Side note: Chicago is ten hours from where we live in Birmingham, Alabama, Deep South, USA.)

(Also, when people say there is nothing but corn in Indiana, well, they’re not kidding.)

I’m okay with not having Big Adventures right now. We’re in a stage of life that just doesn’t lend itself to spontaneous road trips or, you know, moving to foreign countries. Having a baby and two full-time jobs changes things, and I’m okay with that.

What I’m not okay with is losing the Little Adventures.

What happened to the concerts we used to go to? Why are we eating at the same restaurants over and over? Why do we hardly ever see our friends, and when was the last time we made new ones?

It’s unacceptable. Talk about a rut.

So I hereby dub 2012 The Year of Adventurous Living.

I don’t have a specific plan, but I’d like to do more things I’ve never done before. Little Adventures, mostly, although if a Big Adventure presents itself and we have the time and money to do it, I’m game. But I’m not counting on any Big Adventures. Not right now. Just small ones.

Here are some things I’d like to do:

1) Get out of town more. Just . . . get out. With or without Baby Girl. Stay with friends and family who live in other cities. Explore. And if it’s a place we’ve never been before, that’s even better. We’ve got a trip lined up later this month (no, thieves, I will not tell you exactly when) and then I’m going to a writer’s workshop in Mobile in March. I’m also trying to line up a quick Nashville trip sometime in the spring, because seriously? Nashville ROCKS.

2) Follow through with friends. I’m tired of saying, “Let’s get together sometime,” and then a year later, I realize it never happened. I want to make it happen. Having people over can result in unexpected Small Adventures, even if it’s just a conversation you never saw coming.

3) Sign up for our church’s Ballroom Dancing class. Oh yeeeeeah, baby, you heard me right. Seems the ol’ church is feeling the pain of a rut, too, because they’re starting all kinds of fun social things. Film nights, art events, some sort of business/entrepreneur type thing that is absolutely NOT up my alley, and a bunch of other stuff–including BALLROOM DANCING.

I have no experience in ballroom dancing. Neither does Rob. We can’t wait to sign up.

4) Sing Karaoke. I’ve never done it. The THOUGHT of it terrifies me. Which is why I want to do it. What song would I sing? How would I sing it? What would I wear? WHAT IF I BOMBED? Only one way to find out.

5) Go to concerts. This one requires something we don’t have much of, and that’s extra cash. But we have a couple of great smaller music venues in the area, and their tickets are generally on the cheaper side. So I think it’s doable, with a little advance planning.

6) Do my very best to get in shape and be healthier. I know what you’re thinking. THIS IS NOT THE HOTMOTHER. The Hotmother is dead. DEAD. This is just Operation Stop Gaining One Pound Per Week.

No, really.

It’s easy for me to be like, “Oh, I’m tall, no one will be able to tell if I gain a little weight. I can wiggle into these pants. Sure, there’s a muffin top, but no one’s really looking anyway. Let me just eat this cheesecake and then I’ll go for a walk or something.”

It’s ADVENTUROUS for me to say, “I need to do something about this, and I’m going to. Starting now.”

Now, you know me: I need a plan for these kinds of things, and usually, not even a plan can keep me on track. But I’m trying again. I’ve downloaded an app called My Fitness Pal on my iPhone, and I’m inputting calories and exercise every day. Or, most days. This is how I lost 9 lbs. right before I got pregnant in 2010, so I’m hoping it’ll work again.

Here are the Little Adventures I’ve already had:

Explored a trail near my house (turns out there is a whole Narnia-type wild forest area back there!)

Deleted my Goodreads account (more on that later)

Started the Jillian Michaels 30-Day Shred DVD workout (it hurts, ladies, IT HURTS, and this is not one of those John Cougar Mellencamp “Hurt So Good” kind of things. It hurts SO BAD.)

Deleted my Google Friend Connect widget (too much pressure, and also, Google isn’t going to let non-Blogger blogs use it anymore, so it was inevitable)

Considered going to Zumba. (Baby steps, people.)

How about you? Have you had any adventures lately, big or small? Do you have any suggestions for me?

]]> http://annerileybooks.com/2012/01/a-year-of-adventurous-living/feed/ 30 http://annerileybooks.com/2012/01/an-assortment-of-oddities/ http://annerileybooks.com/2012/01/an-assortment-of-oddities/#comments Mon, 09 Jan 2012 01:49:47 +0000 Anne Riley http://annerileybooks.com/?p=1021 That’s right friends, it’s time for another Random Blog Post of Randomness. (If you’re new around here, this is what happens when I’m feeling particularly scatterbrained and can’t think of a specific topic to blog about.)

First, you should know that my husband is sitting on the couch saying something about Ted Nugent and also singing “Too Legit To Quit.” So if this post makes even LESS sense than usual, you’ll understand that it might be because I am just a TINY BIT DISTRACTED.

LOOK at those high-wasted pants. And the necklace, people. The NECKLACE.

Aaaaaaaanyway.

In writing news, I’ve written roughly 1/3 of CREEPY FACES BOOK! At this pace, I should have the first draft done in three months, start to finish. That is WAY faster than I’ve ever written anything EVER. If I can actually finish this thing when I plan to finish it, I’ll have to do something to celebrate. I dunno what, though.

As long as my celebration involves this hat, I won’t care what it is.

In other Earth-shattering news, you may remember that I used to have a celebrity crush on Brett Favre, until he did some stuff with some text messages, and then I decided maybe it was time to move on.

Well, good news, Readers! After much consideration and also input from my husband on which current NFL quarterback is the most crush-worthy, I have decided to replace Brett with:

For those of you who are blissfully ignorant of sports, this guy’s name is Drew Brees. He plays football.

I mean really, after seeing that commercial where he’s putting the VapoRub on his little boy’s chest, how could I choose anyone else?

(Hey Tim Tebow, if Drew pulls a Favre and does something sleazy, you’re next in line. *wink*)

Oh, Tim, it wouldn’t be that bad.

Oh, and if you’re curious about the counseling thing I mentioned in my last post, I start next Monday. Hooray! I am really excited to see how it goes and what kind of changes I see in myself.

How are y’all? How was the weekend? How’s the writing? And most importantly, who’s your Quarterback Crush? I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS.

You’re right, that last one’s pretty out there. I don’t know ANY writers who struggle with self-doubt.

BAZINGA.

I’m not sure what it is that’s got so many of us down in the dumps. It could be January and its general suckitude. It could be that we are surrounded by the success of our peers and feel that we pale in comparison.

Are you one of the strugglers? If so, I’d like to tell you something.

You’re not alone.

And sometimes, being alone is the problem.

There’s no shame in admitting that you’re having a hard time with something, and there’s no shame in seeking help for your problems. Friends and family are there for just such an occasion, in fact, and it’s important that you talk about what’s going on.

“Sure,” you’re thinking. “Easy for you to say, Anne Riley the Cheerful. You’re never depressed. Just LOOK at your last blog post. There are pictures of rainbows and unicorns, for crying out loud.”

Yes, Grasshoppers. This is true. I am often cheerful, I love to laugh, and I love to make other people laugh.

So it might surprise you to know that I’m about to start counseling.

Last night was sort of a breaking point for me. The weight of so many commitments–being a good wife and mother, putting in the required effort at work, keeping my house in a semi-clean state so as not to invite rodents to bed down in our Piles o’ Crap, working faithfully on the new book I’m writing (1,000 words per day), and then everything else like random appointments, cooking dinner, the extra weight that continues to collect around my waist, making sure people have lunches for the next day, trying to get my 13-month-old to switch from a bottle to a sippy cup (and BY THE WAY, mothers, I will HAPPILY accept advice on that one) . . .

You get the idea.

New year, new panic attack.

But last night was different from my usual meltdowns, which occur pretty much every month in some form or fashion. I knew something really needed to change.

I’m having issues with a few things that I just can’t handle on my own. Not tangible objects, exactly, but more like unhealthy thought patterns and feelings of resentment toward a variety of people and things. I mean, CRIPPLING resentment. The kind that makes you ugly-cry while you drive home after work.

Ever done that? I sure have.

So I emailed my church. (If you’re worried that this is about to get preachy, I assure you, it is not.) Sometimes, church culture in the south can be a bit superficial; I’ve been at churches before where the members basically put on a happy face, acted like their lives were perfect, said “Praise the Lord” a lot, then went home and cried in their bathrooms.

Fortunately, my current church embraces people’s crap. We talk openly about our problems in all their spectacular grossness. THAT should get a “Praise the Lord.”

Anyway, I emailed my church and asked if there was a counselor on staff that I could meet with. Within ten minutes, I had a response and a counselor to contact. So I emailed her.

That was five minutes ago. No, I haven’t heard back yet, but I’m looking forward to setting everything up. This will be my first foray into the World of Counseling.

Maybe I should feel embarrassed. I don’t.

I considered not telling anyone except for my husband. I’ve decided to tell the world.

That doesn’t mean I’ll be divulging the details of my counseling sessions with you, but I might blog about a few things here and there. I just wanted you to know that this is happening, and that those who seem the happiest often need the most encouragement.