It Nerves, Nerves I Tell You

Apparently a shit storm is brewing in blog-land. Or brewed. Or blew over. I don’t know. It didn’t involve me except as a person who drove past the scene of the accident as they’re sweeping the glass from the road. (How’s that for mixed metaphors?)

But it makes my stomach hurt.

Today on IM my girlfriend that thinks it’s “cerebral geeky” that I’m attending BlogHer (I repeatedly told her I’m going for the booze) asked if I was excited. I told her I was nervous, that I sort of want to throw up. Don’t get me wrong, I’m far from shy. But at the same time 1000 new faces all knowing things about me that I didn’t share over a glass of wine. It changes the playing field. Similarly, I know things about you. Back in the olden days, the only way we would have intimate details of each other’s lives was if we were actual, meat-world friends. Or relations. Or friends of relations. Or relations of friends. And it makes me nervous. Maybe I’m not as cordial in person? Maybe I’m so freaking hilarious in person that you come back to my blog and you’re like, really? same girl? nah. Her posts would have me peeing my pants.


In my mail box today was the Pre-BlogHer Conference Guide. Reading it over I panicked. There’s a part about when you check into the hotel get your pin so other people will know you’re there for BlogHer blah, blah, blah. But I’m staying at the hostel. How will people know why I’m there? Granted, a rational person would say – uhm, that badge you’ll be wearing around your neck and the bag o’shwag. But for a moment I envisioned my lonely self walking from the hostel to the hotel on a deserted road with no one to hang with. I’ll wait while you run and get your tiny violins. Ridiculous? Yes. My imagination is a vivid place.

And here we are, two weeks before BlogHer and there’s trouble afoot. I will not pretend to know what’s going on. I read Catherine’s post. I thought it was well articulated. I read a lot of the comments. They were fine too. The thought that stuck with me more than anything else, is: is this going to cause a rift at BlogHer this year? I remember reading about cliques and hurt feelings after last year’s conference (which I didn’t attend). This year are we going to have a girl-on-girl fight in the bathroom? If so, I’d like to sell tickets, recoup some of my conference costs.

So that pit in the bottom of my stomach. It’s nerves. Nerves that I’m going to feel more clownish than usual. And sadness that the women I respect so heartily are tearing themselves apart.

Who Are You Calling a Tart?

If you’re here because I was the first commentor on Bossy’s Ten Word Tuesday, welcome. If you’re here because you usually swing by – good to see you too.

When I hear “tart” I either think of that girl in high school, who was not me, or a sweet dessert. But a beet tart? Sounds a little … repulsive? What’s next, brussel sprout pie?

But! It’s fantastic. Amy and I have had it twice together. Once on a fluke and once on purpose. The second time we were actually seated at Cheesecake Factory when we remembered we wanted beet tart. So we left. It’s not like we had actually ordered yet.

From Rioja’s menu:

Asian pear and beet roasted tart, puff pastry shell, glazed red beets, carmelized onions, goat cheese mousse, shaved Asian pears, hazelnut vinaigrette, beet reduction

Next time, oh there will be a next time, I’ll discreetly whip out my cell phone and take a picture.

I love, love beets. And who doesn’t love goat cheese? Never in a million years would I have created this concoction on my own. One supposes that’s why I’m not a chef. But the combination of the tangy beet, the sweet pear and the creamy cheese is amazing. The flavors don’t blend into one giant flavor.; you can taste each individually. And it comes in a cute pastry shell.

Inspired or Intimidated?

Maybe time to put on my big girl pants.

Years ago a friend was talking to me about a group of people starting a consulting firm, and I replied, “I have nothing to bring to the table.” He argued, I countered.

Last summer when I decided to go back to work I told a friend, a former co-worker and HR director that I needed to get past that point where I was so giddy that someone would hire me that I would take anything. I think my words to her were, “oh, you like me? You really want to give me a job? Okay! I’ll take it. What’s that? You want me to shovel horse shit? For $2 an hour? OKAY! As long as you really like me.” She tried to talk sense into me. That any corporation would be lucky to have me.

I thought feelings of inadequacy were supposed to be left in high school?

And now Blogher. It looks fantastic. I’m such a fan girl too. As Peter said, “it’s where your peeps are.” (side note: who says “peeps” these days?) Yet …

I’m Just a Fan Girl

Peter has a new job. Now he’s a minifig. Not really, he’s Systems Architect. While I was googling his new opportunity I read the founder’s blog.

And saw a picture of him (the founder) dancing. And all I could say was, “OH MY GAWD!! LOOK, do you KNOW WHO THAT IS? Your boss is in a picture with Jon & Heather! Does HE KNOW THEM?” Granted, SXSW is a big thing and there are lots of people in lots of other people’s pictures. But, OH MY GAWD – my husband works for someone that was photographed with the most famous blogger EVER.

Fetch me some smelling salts will ya?

Earth Day

Inspired by my new friend (Hi!),

(we take a break from the blog post to look for relevant photo, please enjoy the hold muzak)

I was planning this post about how during the warm months we hang our clothes on a clothes line (yay! no HOA) and it offsets all the A/C I like to use. Last summer our electricity use actually decreased even though the kids and I were home ALL THE TIME. Also, clothes smell super good when they’re dried outside. If you decide to try this yourself I highly recommend liquid fabric softener. Well, I guess that was the post.

The picture though was super cute. It was A’s two green kitties drying out on the line after a good scrub. But no picture for you. Poor internets, are you sad?

Don’t cry. Here are some pictures of kitties in action.

(hold muzak)

No there aren’t. WP hates me tonight.

Now you can cry.

Glass Slippers Give Me Blisters

Peter says ya’ll need back story … yesterday I was holding A in all of her Thomas the Tank Engine wonder (shirt and size 4T underwear over the pull-up) when the neighbor girl/babysitter said, “Who is your favorite princess?” She might have fallen over dead from the strength of my stare if she wasn’t oblivious. Fortunately, A didn’t hear the question.

It’s not that she doesn’t know the word princess. Or that she doesn’t like girly, princessy stuff. It’s just that she doesn’t really know what it means. For example, she was putting on new pajamas a few weeks back and as she smoothed them over her tummy she said, “My princess pjs!” Luckily her brother didn’t hear her since he was wearing the same ones and they had Lightening McQueen all over them. To her, being a princess is having a barrette in your hair and looking nice. Fair enough. We can all live with that princess definition.

So tonight as I was telling Peter about yesterday’s killing of the babysitter with the death stare I had to google Disney Princesses to figure out what our choices really are. Ariel seems like an obvious choice. But then I thought it would be so much funnier to google “I hate disney princesses.” That list is so much better.

This caught my eye. And it was awesome.

But then at the end was a link to find out which Disney Princess I am. And, as anyone who has read this blog for more than a week knows, I like a good survey.

You are Cinderella. You are hard-working and never complain, however, your trust is sometimes misplaced and people sometimes take advantage of you. Still, you are beautiful inside and out, and one day you will realize it and find true love. You can take the survey here.

In the word of my new addiction, Grace (I saw a mention of Buffy – how can you not love a girl that blogs about Buffy AND princesses and is watching FireFly? I mean really.) GAH.

Also, I must not have read the questions right. That bit about “and never complain”, heh. Is there a Disney Princess that is sarcastic to her core?

WSJ, Not Just for Old White Dudes

I pink puffy heart Heather Armstrong. I got an email response from her once and I thought I was going to pee my pants in glee. So, today when Chris (you like how I use their first names, like I really know them?) alerted us all to an article in the WSJ about Heather, I was anxious to read it. Too many articles about bloggers & mommy bloggers (I don’t think Heather falls squarely into this category but it’s where she got her start) are negative.

I was genuinely pleased. And excited.

It’s a fantastic article. And it doesn’t just talk about how Heather writes about her life. It explains how this is a business enterprise for the Armstrongs; that is a brand. She takes her branding very seriously. Advertisers take her brand seriously. She’s a business woman and her business is her blog. Good for her. And lucky for all of us.

Maybe the rest of society is getting it. Blogging isn’t just a hobby for some. And the talented bloggers don’t just write about what they had for lunch.

I had Drunken Noodles for lunch yesterday.

Dear Joshilyn

Dear Joshilyn,

You are a fantastic author. I loved gods in Alabama and Between, Georgia. I missed my family those weekends, but I couldn’t put your books down. And now you have a new book! I really do plan to read it. I was hoping that I’d get it signed, in person. I have signed copies of your other books, but it’s just not the same. You didn’t get the benefit of my geeking out and gushing while you were signing those books. You know what it’s like, I mean, with your love of Stephen Colbert and all. Right? I mean, I’m not totally off-base here. You’re a fan too.

The big square middle states have fans and other stuff I’m sure you’d enjoy (well, maybe not this one, I don’t really know what’s up there). We’re not just a land of big box bookstores. We have great independent booksellers! Boulder Bookstore in Boulder and Tattered Cover in Denver (I’m sure there are more, I just don’t know of them).

To help illustrate the injustice of it all, I’ve made a little map detailing me (the woman icon) and your tour dates going forward. They’re really not near one another. AT ALL. If you come to Colorado I’ll make faces at you like your friend so you feel welcome.

View Larger Map

See you soon!


PS: This post is inspired, in part, by NaBloPoMo‘s April theme, LETTERS.

Stalker News, News about Stalkers

When I heard this morning that John Cusack’s stalker had been arrested, I was concerned BOSSY would have to use her road-trip tip jar as bail money. Then I remembered that she was in NOLA yesterday. Also, BOSSY can’t be arrested for being a stalker – John is her husband.

My Ten Wardrobe Basics

Respecting MarBlo‘s theme and doing as the very wise Susan has requested, here’s MY ten wardrobe basics:

  1. properly fitting brassieres
  2. long jeans for heels
  3. not-so-long jeans for flats
  4. black crop pants
  5. denim jacket
  6. A-line skirts (most recently these are my favorites)
  7. simple, substantive necklaces (a la my birthday present)
  8. faux wrap shirts
  9. v-neck t-shirts
  10. a pedicure, since I wear sandals 9-10 months of the year

If you doubt Susan’s unwavering wisdom, she was right about the red shoes and the white t-shirt. But I wasn’t always a believer. I went so far as to comment:

I’m going to voice opposition about the white tee being necessary. I don’t wear white, even of the winter variety. I am already pale enough that white washes me out even more. Recently a nice little old lady, while out shopping, did tell me that if I “just wore a little blush and eye liner and darker lipstick and more eye shadow” I could wear white. Seems like a lot of effort to go to for something that’s not even a color :)

And then I caved. And now? I reach for that shirt a few times a week. I usually talk myself out of it though, “saving” it for a day when I feel I have nothing to wear. In the end, it doesn’t get worn often – but I now am the PROUD owner of a 3/4 length sleeve, v-neck WHITE t-shirt. And I don’t look too pasty in it. Oh and the shoes that she said wouldn’t make me look like a pole dancer? She was right about those too.

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