Back from BlogHer yesterday afternoon. I am putting my brain and heart back together. There are only memory blasts for today…
The First Night:
Overly large suitcase bumping down the stairs. Stiletto heels poking through canvas. Lane-changing drive to the hotel; horns honking, tires squealing, head bopping. Running to dinner in new shoes, wobbling on pavement. Spicy food, instant friends. Fire pit cruise, sitting on lounge chairs, quiet talk, home by 2AM.
The Day Before the Day:
Blearily, but with a song in my heart, attended Women Create Media and surrendered to mountainous tears as Brené Brown talked about self-acceptance and validation, saying, “Take out a piece of paper and a pen. Make a list of the people whose opinions really matter to you. Forget the rest.”
The Truck of Doom:
Walking eyes-half-closed from the convention center to the hotel at the end of the second day. A “Hi San Diego Momma!” roused me out of my catatonia. I look up. There’s a Mack truck 10 feet from my face. Thanks rousing voice.
The Serenity Suite:
My volunteer time started at 3. I stayed until 5 with feet on the couch and words on my lips. There were cake pops, pillows, babies, and conversation I couldn’t stand to leave.
Fresh organic tomatoes and peaches and fragrant, textural cheeses; on-site cured meats and perfectly seared Ahi tuna, and not least of all, crusty, nubby breads. Most amazingly: Inspiring women, soul talking, remembering why I’m here.
A perfect crowd of writers, and soul searchers, and authenticeers gathered for heart-to-heart time and mutual (and newfound) admiration. And there were many sublime edibles. Again.
Neon green rubber. Abandoned heels. Relative cloud walking.
The 2AM Meet:
Walking through the lobby with tired heels and rambling mind. Find beloved friends, and make new ones with hours to spare before BlogHer is over for 2011.
Deep-talking meeting with a longtime blogger love who cuts through crap and makes things clear. Her book comes out in October. She’s an inspirer.
And for now, that’s all I got. But there were also glow sticks and McDonald’s at midnight and rooftop terraces, and gut laughter, and revelations, and commas. Lots and lots of commas.