There’s so much I wanted to write about BlogHer. Most importantly I wanted to share how happy I am just to be alive. On the other hand, I thought, you know, hemorrhaging to death isn’t really that funny. But it could be, right? In the proper hands. And with all of the shameless self-promotion I learned about last weekend I started to think, you know, if I could pull it off, Larry David might ask me to write a sitcom with him or something. So here goes, How I almost died at BlogHer:
As I mentioned my little one’s guilt trip cast a darkness over the first day out. And I mentioned also that I wore the Virgin Mary around my neck in hopes that she would save me from imminent bad luck. As an aside, it didn’t help my mood that I was “all menstrual” as my girlfriend would say.
But I made it to the Thursday night party where I met Jenny, (who spilled a chocolate martini on my white t-shirt, by the way, but she was totally worth it), and I immediately bonded with Suebob who, like me, is just too sexy for the W. Or wait, I think we decided we weren’t sexy enough – yeah, that was it.
Then I thought I was going to sleep, but I kept waking up because golf-ball-sized globs of blood were shooting out of me. So I was thinking, wow, this really can’t be good. But I got up in the morning and put the Virgin in a very safe place (she didn’t match my outfit). Then I met this person who I liked very much despite the fact that at 8:00 in the morning she’d already gone for a run, been to Starbucks and looked all chipper and cute - while I felt an inch from death.
After breakfast I would have really enjoyed listening to Nina teach me that if I want to be a famous blogger I’ll either have to stop talking about feminism or politics or my kids or racism or my husband or my fatness or my cha-cha or bleeding to death or something for Gods sake, because I need some focus here. But I was too busy googling, “Can you die from menstruation?” (If anyone ever has, Google has failed to make a note of it.)
So I e-mailed my girlfriends a quick, “Hello! Having fun at the conference, except I’m pretty sure I’m going to die all alone in Chicago, and I can’t even get hold of my kids to say goodbye to them. Love, Staci”
It’s not easy being my friend.
At the end of the day, I finally reached my family, and Mr. Make-Mama-Feel-Like-Crap-For-Leaving-Us was like, Mama Who???? So I said to my husband, “ I’m pretty sure I’m going to die here, FYI.”
“Really,” he sounded skeptical for some reason.
“Well, first of all, I’ve lost like sixty-five million gallons of blood, and then I was walking up the stairs of this building and a black crow was on the floor in front of me and he looked at me and then flew away. That means my death is imminent, right?”
“Honey,” he sighed, “I think that’s just some Edgar Allen Poe imagery or something – I can’t remember – but I don’t think it means you’re going to die. You’re just a little bit crazy. That’s all. You’ll be okay.”
But seriously, birds indoors – it’s creepy, right?
It’s just me?
Okay, so then I met Mocha Momma, whose voice/deameanor/attitude is just like she is on her blog. And she’s friendly and warm and gorgeous too, but don't piss her off – that’s all I’m saying. And here’s where I met too many people to list, some new to me, some I’d stumbled across in the blogosphere from time to time , and some I had already loved.
By Saturday morning I was no longer gushing out what looked like raw chicken hearts and livers, my little guy had given me his go-ahead-and-have-fun-we-don’t-really-need-you-anyway blessing, and so I was feeling much better. I learned a lot on that day, but not how to put those damn delicious buttons on my posts. And I still don’t exactly understand the RSS/Feedburner/add me to your Yahoo or MSN something-or-other concept. I’m still as technologically challenged as I was before the sessions I attended on technology. But as the lovely Gail Blanke pointed out to me at lunch, what I lack in substance, I make up for in boldness. So that’s something, I guess.
[To digress a moment, while I think Elizabeth Edwards is strong and inspiring and a great asset to her husband’s campaign (not that I think he can win, but that’s another post), I don’t actually believe that she blogs. Did anyone else get that impression?]
I had the pleasure of listening to Mom101’s panel. Liz is so cute and so is baby Sage. It was interesting when I met her (and oh my God I was not “disappointed”) because her voice doesn’t sound like the voice I hear in my head when I read her blog. And it made me just keep staring at her face, like I need to remember what she looks and sounds like from now on when I’m reading her. No particular reason, she just surprised me somehow. And since I know there are many reading who adore her, I will say that she is so sweet and approachable and friendly and genuine, and I hope I can meet her again one day when there’s not so much going on.
And I met Her Bad Mother who is amazing (but you know that already), and on the very last night of the conference I paced the cocktail party thinking, I will NOT leave Chicago until I’ve met Susan! And she was so tiny and cute and sweet and… drunk – and she surprised me too, because she doesn’t have a southern accent. And I met the hilarious Oh the Joys, but I did not ever run into Dribblingwitt, one of the most gifted story tellers ever – very bummed to have missed her! I also met the BlogHer founders Lisa and Elisa, but, sadly, not Jory. (While I had fun in Chicago this year, I’d like to let them know that for BlogHer08 I hear Portland, Oregon is nice this time of year…)
But finally it was time to go home, and the “safe place” where I’d stashed the Virgin was (still is) a mystery to me. I looked high and low, certain that if I didn’t find her my plane would crash (you know, since I didn’t bleed to death – obviously I was to die via plane crash). I finally gave up and I said a prayer, ending with, “May you be a blessing to whomever finds you.” And then I gave the doorman an outrageous tip for putting my bag into the taxi for me. You see, an essential element of being successfully superstitious is to maintain the belief that the Gods can be tricked, or at least appeased, when necessary. The doorman frantically waved goodbye to me shouting, “God bless you! God bless you!” as I drove off. And I’m still alive, so you know it worked.