My job is cool, and so are all these folks
So. BlogHer Business ’07. I had this awesome post rattling around in my head about the overarching vibe of the conference. I was thinking about it all the long (silent!) drive home, and I was eager to sit down and make sense of it and communicate to you all just how different and awesome it was. Not that this past summer’s BlogHer in San Jose wasn’t also great, because it was, but some of the follow-on from that event was less-than-lovely, and I just don’t see that happening this time, for various reasons.
I was all set to lay it all out and share with you many epiphanies about what made the difference and why and how incredibly great it was, but then I discovered that Liz already wrote the post I had in mind. Damn her! If not for the fact that she is hilarious and fun to hang around with AND let me feel her belly when her baby had the hiccups, I’d probably be annoyed. But read her take, because she nailed it. read more…
Back in the burrow again
This country mouse has arrived back home, and despite the rather jarring sight of coming around the corner and seeing a gigantic FOR SALE sign in my yard, I’ve never been so delighted to be back.
Oh my holy heck, it is so LOUD in New York City. I swear that by the time I left, I could feel my brain vibrating. One more day in Manhattan and I feel certain that I would’ve developed a nervous twitch.
There’s so much about the trip that I will share tomorrow—from the conference itself to my baby-snatching propensity—but tonight I have to tell you about the trip back home. read more…
Living the high life
Tonight I: spent an amount of money on dinner that would cause me to curl up in a little ball and hyperventilate if it were not a business expense, walked enough to give myself a few impressive blisters, and was stepped on by a very drunk man who veered into me on the sidewalk.
Yes, I can see why people find the city so irresistible.
(But it is a pretty neat time, here. Today I liveblogged a session and met a bunch of interesting people and had a massage at a cocktail party, and how often can you say THAT? It kind of balances out the being stepped on by a drunk part.)
Love is quiet amid the noise
So far I am surviving in New York City despite the apparent neon sign on my forehead which is flashing CLUELESS TOURIST. And we have been carefully feeding and watering Chris with hypoallergenic substances so that I don’t have to either jab her with her EpiPen or administer CPR while we call 911.
Walking around in a city of—what, eighty gazillion people?—made me realize in a whole new way that I require a certain amount of personal space to feel sane. Being pressed in by throngs of people very much makes me want to scream. Loudly. Not that anyone would notice, here. read more…
Pretending to be a business person
I last went to New York City about twenty years ago. My father took me there for a weekend; I was still, in my teenage wisdom, planning to become the next Meryl Streep, and needed to go to an audition in Manhattan to secure a spot in a prestigious summer theater program. (I was accepted and went and had a great time and went on to win several Oscars. Well, maybe not that last part.) We ate a lot of good food and I spent a couple of hours sitting slack-jawed with wonder at a Broadway show, and best of all, I had my Daddy to protect me from the vermin of the city.
Now I will only have Chris to protect me, which should be sufficient if all I need to do to repel a mugger is show him that I’ve tucked my favorite little sparrow robot into my purse like a talisman. read more…
Open floor plan and tons of storage
Would you like to buy a house? I know of a lovely one that happens to be RILLY RILLY CLEAN on the outside.
And on the inside, well. Um. Actually, it’s much cleaner on the inside than it’s been in a looooong time. I spent most of the weekend and half the night making it ready for listing photos and also so that people walking through will be able to visualize THEIR stuff in MY house rather than thinking things like “Wow, that is a really big stack of yogurt containers.”
Not that people wouldn’t be moved to buy my house on account of my children’s love of yogurt and my penchant for recycling, but just in case. read more…
One set of boobs, to go
Friday I had my final meeting with the surgeon who did my breast biopsy last year. As much as I’ve been enjoying these every-six-months mammograms and subsequent check-ins with her, the time has come to say goodbye.
For one thing, it’s been a year and the boobs seem just fine. For another, I’m moving. (I know, you forgot, because I have only mentioned it every other sentence for the last four months or so.)
So I went in and had an appointment just like every other appointment I’ve had with her (don the paper shirt, get felt up, talk about how everything seems fine and we should keep monitoring but there’s nothing to worry about). And then I told her I’m moving and that I’d probably need to get a copy of my file, and she surprised me by saying that they could take care of that for me on my way out. read more…
What public school hath wrought
Happy St. Patrick’s Day! I hope you’re spending the day… ummm… drinking green beer? Shamrock hunting? Getting some girl named Erin to take off her bra?
I have no idea. See, I’m not Irish. (Plus, I believe beer should be red.)
St. Patrick’s Day has never been much more than a blip on the radar for me, but I do vaguely recall the kids coming home from daycare or school saying that a leprechaun had come to their classroom and left treats. Isn’t that cute? I think that’s really cute. At least, I thought that was really cute as long as St. Patrick’s Day fell on a school day. read more…
A fairy tale
Once upon a time in a land not very far from here in a time more recent than you might think, there lived a damsel in distress.
No, she wasn’t locked in a tower or being held captive by a fire-breathing dragon or even being forced to clean houses in violation of her birthright.
She wasn’t wandering, lost, in the forest or turned into a ogre or trying to communicate after an evil sea witch had stolen her voice.
She was just in the regular sort of distress. read more…
Love is remembering and sharing
In the last year and a half, I’ve managed to transform my hobby-and-occasional-gig into a sustainable career. Which, frankly, still amazes me. When we were down in Georgia a couple of weeks ago, someone asked me what I did and I answered, “I’m a writer” without batting an eyelash.
I had only a short period of time to bask in this accomplishment before the logical follow-on to triumph took over: Exhaustion. Freelancing is not for wimps. There are no paid vacations, no sick days, and it’s very easy to fall into a pattern of working all hours, every day of the week. And then? What initially felt SO GOOD starts to feel a little bit like the third circle of hell. read more…