#BlogHer13.

30 July 2013 | 9 Comments

I’m trying to wrap my head around the 48 hours I spent in Chicago and provide some kind of cohesive explanation for all of you.  I’m a little afraid that one doesn’t exist.  It’s kind of like a shitton of emotion, shoved into one little package.  A little package full of big ideas that leaves you reeling and completely exhausted in a good way.  Or maybe I should say exhausted in a you’re still mainlining coffee two days later sort of way.  I am a bit thankful that I had a wedding to be home for on Saturday.  And the wedding?  It had a llama delivering jello shots.

You can see why it was important for me to attend.

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Truth be told, I took a bit of a leap of faith in going to BlogHer by myself.  I mean, I knew people, but I didn’t know anyone.  I think even if you do have close friends at BlogHer, it just works out that everyone has their own schedule.  You have to be willing to walk into a room alone, say hello, and extend yourself regardless.  Something that my friend Sarah pointed out, can be really difficult to do, especially for those of us who sit behind a screen all day. 

With our imaginary internet friends.

I was incredibly fortunate that when I took that giant flying leap of OMG ALONE AT BLOGHER, the likes of Kate Canterbury and Fadra Nally and Tracy Morrison and Anne Hogan and especially Kristin Shaw and Zakary Watson were waiting with a hug and a smile and a hey, hang out with us.

There were introductions to people like Heather of the EO, who is such a kind, warm individual until she calls you an open-faced sandwich to your face... errr your Facebook.  I met Dani Faust, re-introduced myself to Barbara Jones, and talked shoes with Marie LeBaron.  I ran into Gigi Ross and didn’t get nearly enough time to chat.  I had a lunch discussion with a few spectacular women.   At one point, I was standing in a party checking my Twitter notifications from Elisa Camahort, one of BlogHer’s founders, I looked up and she is standing right next to me.  So, I stupidly blurted out, that I was just reading her tweet and isn’t that weird?

That right there is why I’m behind the screen.

BlogHer is a lot to handle.  I don’t think people share that.  They tell you about the squeeing and the fun and the parties and the sessions and the swag and the crazy people.  Or they tell you how awful something is or how things should be the way that they want them.  They neglect to tell you it’s a heck of a lot to deal with all at once.

A LOT of people and parties and socializing.  A LOT of information and learning and working.  A LOT of staring into faces that you know you should have names for, but that escape you for several terrifying moments.  A LOT of Tweets and cameras and non-stop everything. 

A LOT of sensory overload.   

And it’s also a whole mess of bloggers who just get you.  I didn’t once have to explain to someone why thirty or forty thousand people come here every month to read the things that I write… they already get it.  They know.  I didn’t have to answer questions like, “and they really PAY you to do that?” because these people, they already understand the value of what I do each day.  There is something strangely comforting in that, despite the sea of six thousand people washing over you.

Voices of the Year was by far one of the biggest highlights for me.

I laughed loudly, cheered my friends, and had tears in my eyes listening to Kelly.  These twelve writers are getting up in front of a thousand… two thousand? peers and delivering pieces of themselves in their own voice.  It takes balls. 

Huge ones. 

One after another, they just stood up and opened their words to our ears, to our judgment, and let us feel the weight of what they were saying.  I chided Casey on Twitter before BlogHer, but that woman, dear Lord is she amazing at a podium.  Zakary killed it.  When she delivered her last line, people around me were howling with laughter and the tweets began immediately. 

That is really what BlogHer was about for me, all 48 crazy, “A LOT” filled hours of it.  It feels great to be reminded that there are so many talented, supportive women in this medium I’m lucky enough to call work. 

Maybe later, I’ll write that post of tips, or talk about the swag, or about the fashion, or the brands who got it just right, or the things that could have gone differently. 

For now though?  I’m just going to let it be about the bloggers.

It Can’t All Be Queen Latifah + Roses, But It’s Close.

24 July 2013 | 5 Comments

Last week was kind of a goat screw. 

I’m going to go out on a new-agey limb here and tell you who is to blame. 

Mercury.  That’s who. 

Mercury being in retrograde just screws everything up.  Stuff was JUST. going. wrong. I didn’t write because I was in such a foul, overwhelmed sort of mood. 

But this week?  As of Sunday, Mercury is charging full ahead instead of lollygagging behind, screwing with us.  I’m almost afraid to say it out loud for fear I will squash ALL THE GOODNESS.  Kind of like how every single time I’ve said, “oh Finn is sleeping through the night!” or “Tate hasn’t been sick all winter!”  BAM.  You’re slapped in the face with a wet noodle of awake filled nights and toddler vomit.  Then, Dave is pissed at me, all because I had to go and jinx it.

So hey, lean in real close, and I’ll whisper it.  OK?  The freaking good stuff is coming out of the woodwork and smacking me on the head.  Mercury needs to behave all the time.

AWESOME SAUCE.

As if BlogHer itself isn’t awesome enough?  Queen Latifah, yes, QUEEN LATIFAH is hosting the Voices of the Year keynote and one of my posts, is an honoree.  I get to hear Zakary of Raising Colorado, you know my adoration for years of her incredibly funny writing, read at Voices of the Year.  And also?  It’s her birthday on Friday. 

Me:  Oh hey, ZDub, what are you doing for your birthday?

ZDub: Oh not much, just reading my post and making a couple thousand people laugh.  And hanging out with Queen freaking Latifah.  Like a boss.

{This conversation only took place in my head, but I will definitely be hugging the shit out of her on Friday.}

If you see this girl, the one in the first photo, be nice and say hello.  Unless I’m hyperventilating with a paper bag and look like the second photo… in which case you can avert your eyes.  Kristin at Two Cannoli has graciously pinky sworn she will step in if she sees me fall on my ass wearing heels or otherwise embarrass myself and create a diversion.  I’m holding her to it.  {Miniature photo-bombing Dave on my shoulder not included.}

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If you’re so inclined and want some good peeks of the conference, I’ll be Tweeting and Instagraming the hell out of BlogHer13. 

Who Cares About an Outfit? We Have Wine.

22 July 2013 | 6 Comments
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Saturday at six, we realized how quickly the day escaped us which is slightly amusing because my mom had the kids most of the day.  They were ready for dinner, so Dave made some quick quesadillas and fruit for them.  After, we went shopping because I am stupidly freaking about what to wear to BlogHer.  {Yes, yes, I know that is ridiculous but this is what I do when faced with the prospect of going to Chicago with five thousand bloggers, none of which I know very well.  Are you going? If you are, please say hi.} 

Tate proceeded to have a screaming meltdown right there in Macy’s. 

She didn’t want to ride in the stroller.  Instead of telling us that, she screeched like a wild banshee.  Oh, and flailed.  How could I forget the flailing?  A loud, screeching, flailing wild banshee.  Just what Macy’s was missing, right?  I wanted to crawl under the rack of plus size dresses I was flicking through.

It just went downhill from there and suffice to say, I might be naked in Chicago.  Prepare yourselves.

By the time Dave and I realized that we hadn’t figured out anything for our dinner either, it was nearly nine and we made a quick run through the grocery on our way home.  Dave was hangry {hungry + angry, it’s a thing} and I was frazzled.

Him:  Nothing sounds good.

Me:  How about steak?

Him:  I guess, but only because I can’t think of anything better.

Me:  We could do chicken.  Or pasta.  I’m going to make a salad.

Him:  Steak is fine, I guess.

We could have called it a day and neither of us would have minded.  We were tired.  And peevish.  We could have said screw it and gotten something to pop in the microwave, turned on Netflix and sat in silence. 

And we have, on days like this, done just that. 

Instead, we came home and put the kids in bed.  I sliced mushrooms and he opened a bottle of wine.  I set the table.  He grilled.  And somewhere between the salad and Pandora playing Ben Harper, we both laughed and agreed this needed to happen more often.  Minus the flailing toddler tantrum. 

What are your favorite date nights in?

Duel at Midnight.

15 July 2013 | 6 Comments

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Saturday night, Dave mentioned that before bed, Finn asked him to wake him up when it was really dark so they could have a lightsaber duel.

Why don’t you?

So, he did.

I am pretty sure Finn thinks he has the coolest dad in the universe.

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