On Wednesday, I mentioned to Ms. Brenda, Allie’s teacher that I wanted to bake some cupcakes for Allie’s last day at preschool. Allie starts Kindergarten next Wednesday. Although school would be in session for another week, it would be Allie’s last day. It turned out that a little girl in Allie’s class would be celebrating her birthday and the mom was delighted that I had offered to bake cupcakes. The two girls could celebrate Allie’s last day and Jasmine’s 4th birthday. Everyone would win. Yeah!

I do not specialize in baking. I cook. I can whip up a great meal; however, my lack of sweet tooth compromises my baking skills. I am getting better since I received my stand-up mixer at Christmas. Nonetheless, I am a few cupcakes short of a baker’s dozen in the baking department.

I perused the cupcake recipes on Martha Stewart’s website and decided to bake Chocolate Cupcake Cones. These turned out adorable and so tasty. While baking, I had not considered how I would transport them from the house to the school. This, of course, would pose several logistical problems. Have you ever tried to keep 24 ice cream cones standing upright for a 12-minute drive, inclusive of a jaunt down the freeway? Yeah. Neither had I.

Before frosting.

These are actually the cupcake rejects that we did not take to preschool. The other ones were much prettier.

I loaded the homemade flowerpot into the car, and then placed the cupcakes in a muffin pan, with them standing up. I then put a baking pan underneath, to keep them stable. Genius, really.

Only, it was short on genius and long on stupid. We live on the top of a hill and as we descended the hill, the cones began tipping, bumping into each other, and threatened to roll off the muffin and baking pans, altogether. Allison began shouting, “OH NO, MOMMY! PULLOVER! The PUPCAKES!” I pulled over and began to rethink the current set-up. We left 10 minutes late for the first time, on her last day of school. I quickly concluded that Allie should simply hold the baking pan and muffin pan for the short 10 minute drive to school. Pupcake disaster averted. Yeah, me!

We drove only a few feet before the cupcakes, again, began to roll and tip, eventually falling into each other. Once we were at the bottom of the hill, Allie had frosting all over her hands and arms. “I am an idiot,” I thought to myself. We made it to the intersection and the next thing I hear are the two pans clanking together and Allie shouting, “SORRY, MOMMY! OH, NO! THE CUPCAKES!” I turned and looked over my shoulder and every cupcake had fallen off the tray and onto the floor. I pulled over, yet again, turning the hazard lights on this time.

I opened the back passenger door and Allie had frosting from fingertips to elbows and down the front of her dress. There was frosting on the seats, on the door, and even the window. The cupcakes fortunately had fallen onto clean, unused beach towels. The beach towels’ intended use was for a trip to the tide pools that yielded dangerously high tide, which disqualified us from getting wet a few days earlier. Oh, the luck! Those towels saved the fate of the cupcakes. I reassembled the muffin pan/baking pan contraption, quickly placing the cupcakes neatly onto the muffin pan, and examined each one carefully. I thought of the five-second rule and was careful to try not to prolong the cupcakes’ absence from the trays. I winced as I put them back into the muffin pan, refusing to admit defeat.

At that point, I considered keeping Allie home, rather than taking her late. What would be the ultimate fate of the cupcakes? I still needed to get on the freeway for two exits, before the cupcakes would make it to their final destination. Instead, with avid determination, I got back into the driver’s seat and drove slower than I ever had before. The cupcakes tipped into each other again, as we merged onto the freeway, and again as we exited. Overall, however, they remained steady enough to avoid a complete toppling to the floorboard, and onto the towel a second time. At one point, Allie and I became hysterical with laughter, because, seriously, it was getting ridiculously funny.

Allie piped up, “I will just tell them that they fell on the floor.”
“Allie!” I retorted. “Don’t tell anyone that they fell on the floor. They fell on the towel.”
“I will just tell them that they did not fall on the floor.”
Bangs head against wall.
“Allie, just don’t tell them anything.”

It was all so scandalous! Was I teaching her that little white lies were okay? I decided that, for the time being, I was fine with that.

By the time we arrived at Allie’s school, beads of sweat were forming on my forehead, the frosting was looking a bit sad, and Allie was 40 minutes late. I cautiously took the trays from Allie, straightened the cupcakes on the muffin pan, helped Allie hop out of the car, and attempted to balance the cupcakes, to avoid tipping.

The class was engaged in a book Allie’s teacher was reading, until we barged in with the cupcakes. After gingerly setting the cupcakes on a stable surface, I had to wipe the frosting from Allie’s hands, elbows, arms, and clothes, without disrupting the class further.

Sad looking little cupcakes were they.

I went out to the car to get the flowerpot, urged Allie to go sit down, and left the classroom. I let out a long, slow breath. AHHH. Mission Accomplished. Cupcake casualties avoided. Flowerpot had not fallen. All was right with the world, once again. I vowed to myself to think things through next time.

Two hours later, I came back to an empty muffin pan of cupcakes. The kids and teacher raved about how great they were. In fact, Allie’s teacher commented that, “Those were much better than the first ones you made before. Remember those? THESE were delicious!” Yes, and thank you for that backhanded compliment. It was a compliment nevertheless.

All is well that ends well, right?

Allie and her teacher

I wondered if I was making the right decision, putting her in preschool, rather than continuing to teach her Zoophonics at home. She was making so much progress and we were both enjoying the curriculum. I waited until this January to enter her into preschool because I just was not ready to let her go just yet. In hindsight, I know it was a perfect choice both waiting and putting her in preschool. I have savored the moments we have had together.

Yet, a new era begins on Tuesday. She enters Kindergarten at F O U R. She does not turn five until November 3rd and I have struggled with this decision. Soon after giving birth, I vowed that she would be home with me until she was five, turning six a few months later. I worried about sending a 17 year old to college, remembering my college self that made poor decisions such as going to Tijuana and the trouble I could have been in. As time went on, however, Mr. Bear’s aunt (who was born in late November and started Kindergarten at four) and my mom (also a November baby and started Kindergarten at four) assured us that she would be fine.

A few months ago, we took Allie to her pre-K physical with her pediatrician. The nurse did her exam and Allie was being silly. She acts silly when she is uncomfortable or with new people. She kept asking if they were going to give her a shot. The nurse asked several questions and told us the doctor would be in. The doctor began her exam, then asked Allie if she could write her name and draw a square on the tissue paper on the exam table. Allie began trying to write her name on the wrinkled paper. The pen was not working on the tissue paper and Allie told her she did not know if she could draw a square.

The pediatrician then asked me if she was in preschool. Yes. Does her preschool teacher think she is ready for Kindergarten? Yes, she is fine. She was very abrupt. I grabbed a pen and paper out of my purse and asked Allie to write her name, which she gladly did, with a backward ‘S’ in her name. The doctor seemed underwhelmed by her performance. She then told me that I need to work on writing her name at home with her. I was taken by surprise and speechless. I think my response was something like, “Yes, ma’am.” She was not listening anyhow. She was also in and out in five minutes.

Then, they strong-armed me into giving her an “optional” vaccination that I refused on the previous visit.

Allie writes her name at home all the time. She draws and paints all the time. She had been doing so for well over a year at that point. However, she does it on paper, without someone that may give her a shot hovering over her, waiting for her quick response. I felt like a failure. Was I making the right choice? Is there ever a way to know? After all, does anyone ever fail Kindergarten? No, really. Does anyone?

Yesterday, I was driving over to pick Allie up from preschool, when I heard that the California Senate voted to delay Kindergarten age from the December 2nd cut-off to September 1. Had this decision been made last year, Allie would be home another year with me. The doubt crept in. The choice has been made, however, and we are steadfast in our decision.

We will be taking Allie to Kindergarten, entourage in tow. Both grandmothers will be here for the big day and I wonder if they are going to be here for my support, or Allie’s, when the big day arrives. Daddy will be taking the day off to walk her to the door. I will have the support of friends and family, but will bring plenty of tissues. Oh, my heart.

Anyone have any stories of delaying or not delaying Kindergarten? How did you decide? What was the result? Do you have any regrets?

It does not matter my size, my issues with my weight have always existed. I remember being in the seventh grade, doing the Atkin’s Diet, before it was cool. SEVENTH GRADE. I was a larger framed girl, but fat, I was not. I was never comfortable with my slim waist and rounder curves. I had hips and a waist. I had a ripped waist and a butt. I was terribly self-conscious. I wore a long t-shirt over a bathing suit. I did a lot of tugging, pulling, and adjusting in whatever I wore.

Now, with my version of a mom body, I no longer tug and pull. I do not try to fake it in a bikini; I just do not wear one. On the other hand, I am comfortable in what I am wearing. I look as good as I am going to look, where I am now. I am not wearing a bathing skirt. I am not wearing a bikini. I wear a conservative one piece. My butt and boobs are not hanging out. I am wearing an age appropriate bathing suit. I am working on becoming the best body I can be, but I am not hiding behind the t-shirt, shorts, or anything else. I have a post-baby body that is not in the best shape I want it to be. What if this is the best body I ever have? If it is or is not, who cares? I am not going to miss playing in the water with my kid. I am going to embrace me, in spite of being me.

As I scan the public pool, I see so many bodies there. Some, pretending their bodies belong in a bikini, some bikini bodies hiding behind t-shirts or shorts, some pretending they still fit into their pre-baby bikinis, and others wearing their shorts and shirts (bathing suits, completely hidden). I see a lot of self-consciousness at the pool. I see all the things about me, at the pool, at different stages of my own bathing suit body life.

In the big picture, it does not matter what I wear. It does not matter what any of us wear. No one cares, as much as we do. What worries me is how harshly we view ourselves. We judge ourselves far more harshly than anyone else could. I, for one, am going to enjoy splashing in the pool, with my little one, without worrying about those nagging insecurities.

Allie has been asking a lot of questions lately. Yesterday, it was, “Mommy, when I get older, are my—what are those things called? Going to look like yours?” she implored, while pointing at my “boo boo’s.” She has been calling my breasts boo boo’s. She quizzed me a couple of weeks ago, where babies came from, on her way to school. In order to avoid the drawn out conversation about the birds and the bees on our 15 minute journey to preschool, I told her that the stork comes at night and puts a baby in my belly. She was intrigued. “Can I see the stork?” I insisted that she could not bother the stork, as it would scare him away.

Today, she came up to me and said, “Mommy, can you not snore tonight, so the stork can come and put a baby brother or baby sister in your belly?” Conception problems resolved. All I need to do, is stop snoring.

We partied until 3:00 a.m. Saturday night. Mr. Bear and I got up late Sunday morning. We were a bit refreshed, finally getting more than five hours of sleep for the first time since Tuesday. We sorted through the piles and piles of Swag, choosing what we liked the most and leaving the rest for housekeeping. We packed our bags and checked out of the hotel room. From all the hooting, hollering, chatting, and talking, my voice was shot. We decided to wander the city, just Mr. Bear and I. We hardly saw each other the whole weekend. It was nice to get some time to talk about our very different weekends.

After paying the Hilton $3.50 a bag to watch our luggage, we went for a walk around the city. We first went to Trump Towers.

Then, we wandered down a block to FAO Swartz, famous for the Big Piano from the movie Big, with Tom Hanks. They did a recreation of Chop Sticks from a scene from the movie. It was a BIG toy store and something my dad really wanted us to visit.

Next, we went to Saint Patrick’s Cathedral (St. Pat’s), where I broke down in tears. The last time I was at St.Pat’s, I was six months pregnant with Allie. It was a difficult pregnancy and I ended up in the emergency room in Queen’s before we left the city. I thought I was having a miscarriage and I was terrified. I am not incredibly religious, but I lit a candle in St. Pat’s and said a prayer. I was worried about the little one in my belly and the feelings came rushing back. I called Allie and talked with her, then silently said a prayer. My heart was filled with gratitude that she was healthy, happy, and perfect. My prayers were answered. Thankful, does not seem to sum up my heart at that point.

We walked down to Rockefeller Center, where we wandered around aimlessly for a while, where my shirt threatened to come untied every five minutes. Fortunately, for you, I had just retied it.

We then got caught up in a Puerto Rican parade, that nearly shut down the area we were in for hours.

This was the nightmare that would characterize our attempt to cross the streets. What a parade! What a mess!

We went to Times Square, where there were many celebrity sightings, including:

ELMO!

Sponge Bob!

…and, this creepy guy:

THE Neked Cowboy

Who insisted on groping me,

While I turned more and more red, and Mr. Bear laughed hysterically.

He was whispering stuff in my ear and all I could think about was running away. I am not easily embarrassed, however, THIS, is evidently my breaking point.

Soon after, we made our way back to the hotel, got our luggage, and proceeded to get completely lost on the subway. I lost my mind for a while and cried like a baby, wailing about missing our plane and not getting to see our baby. Mr. Bear patiently put up with my whining, assuring me that we would be okay, when a BlogHer miracle happened. We ran into the nicest people (Who says New Yorkers are rude?) that gladly told us how to get to the airport, safely, efficiently, and on-time. Then, our flight was delayed an hour and a half, and that is life right there.

All and all, this was a trip of a lifetime! I loved it and only wish I had more time to process the awesomeness that was our whirlwind adventure to New York.

We parted ways and I confess that I went back upstairs to close my eyes for *just* a second. I freshened up and made it through the sessions, consuming, breathing in, digesting the sessions, and learning so much. I attended the sessions entitled: Writing Lab: How to Use Your Blogging to Make You a Better Writer, Passions: Fitness Blogging: Motivate Yourself and Your Readers, and Personal: ROYO – Little Fish in a Big Pond: Understanding, Accepting, and Loving Your Small Blog. I cannot say which of these three I loved the most. They were all profoundly informative and had great dialogue. There is something magical about being involved in the conversations in the room. Being surrounded by such intelligent, talented, amazing woman was something I will not soon forget. Hangover be damned, this was something special and I drank in the time spent in those conference rooms.

The BlogHer conference had a lot of free stuff. I mean, more shiz than I could possibly imagine. The sponsors were numerous: Chevy, Nestle, Jimmy Dean (sausage), Tropicana, Wal-Mart, P&G, PepsiCo, Playskool, T-Mobile, Pilsbury, Firefox, Microsoft, and MANY, MANY more! Each sponsor had FREE! STUFF!! WOOT! I left so much behind in the hotel room, because I just could not pack it all and take it with us (You are welcome, Cleaning Staff of the Hilton. I spent all my cash on booze the night before. Consider the Swag a tip). Everyone was buzzing about the Swag! Martha Stewart had two bags of Swag to give and I kept the stationary punch—something I would have never justified purchasing myself, but look forward to using.

There was a Playdoh set given out by PlaySkool, but thank you TSA for considering playdoh a liquid. Some fine gift I gave my daughter—without the Playdoh.

There was just so much. Free $150 jeans! Free make-up! Free make-overs! Tampons! Free adult toys! Boxed food! I went to the Swag suites upstairs, where Ecco Shoes was giving free pedicures, previewing their Fall shoe collection for women and passing out cupcakes and champagne. I cannot even believe how much stuff was given out. Corporate America cares about what women bloggers think and it amazed me how much we matter, as women. It was a bit overwhelming to comprehend, as I was not expecting to see it first hand. I have been asked to review products on my blog, but THIS was mind-blowing! Fill out this survey and get this Swag bag. I have more recyclable grocery bags than I could use in my lifetime. Each one, was filled to the top with goodies.

The Parties

Oh, BlogHer and her parties! There were so many activities going on all the time and many of them going on simultaneously. I was unsure before arriving in New York, if I would get into any of the parties. They were doing things differently this year and by the time I got to RSVP, they were all wait-listed. Great, I thought. I had a bit of angst, as my new BFF’s and I had each gotten into a different party, each owning our own agenda for the night. It was looking like I was flying solo.

I went to the first party with Jen from Boston. It was Bloggy State of Mind and it was so much fun! They had street dancers that were so talented! We stayed for a while, grabbed some drinks, and ate some of the yummy appetizers. The music was good and I did my white girl dance.

Next up, was SPARKLECORN! This was the party that Jenn was looking forward to and I didn’t know what to expect. The cake had peanut butter and jelly filling. There was karaoke. Even the President made his appearance. Who knew Barrack Obama would be there? (Not really, but there was a cardboard representation of Obama and people were dancing with him. I understand there was a congo line, with him leading the line). I had so much fun and the time went by so quickly. We met up with Jenn and had even more drinks! I danced even more white girl dancing and for the first time in a long time—I didn’t care that I don’t have rhythm.

Sporting my Blogalicious head piece around my neck, because I am an original. Or, something. Glow bracelets and necklaces, courtesy of Sparklecorn.

Carmen and ???. I met Carmen at the Fitness Blogging: Motivate Yourself and Your Readers session. She is so inspiring and such an awesome lady!

I love this picture of Jenn. It totally captures her personality. The girl is hilarious!

Sierra, Jenn’s co-worker. She was sweet and adorable.

These two girls were all dolled up in their Sparklecorn gear.

The cake

Jenn and Sierra

The next party was the one I had been looking most forward to—CheeseburgHer! At this party, there was McDonald’s food and a table to decorate your own CheeseburgHer hat. There was more dancing, more drinks and more fun!

CheeseburgHers!

I loved this girl’s hat!

There were plenty of places to hang out and relax, including in the CheeseburgHer beds.

Who was that masked man?

Jen from Boston—is that a Pink Twitter in your hand?

Cheesing it up!

Jenn and I

Mr. Bear, getting his cheese on.

I had a great night. I got into all the parties I wanted. I got to meet so many cool women, including Y of Joy Unexpected. I have been blog stalking her for the past couple of years. I introduced myself to her and she gave me a hug. She was beautiful in person. She was very warm and friendly (not that I expected any less from her). I was a little nervous meeting her and I did not get a chance to talk to her for long, but she was sweet. Her recount of the CheeseburgHer parties (on her blog) of the past were one of the reasons I was so excited about the party.

Last week, I attempted an “easy” 3 mile treadmill run and I was convinced that BlogHer had broke me. I struggled to eek out a 3.5 mile run, completing it in 36 minutes. 36 minutes. I knew I was in big trouble. How would we complete a half marathon, when I could barely bring myself to 3.5 miles? Oh, this would be fun.

Before I commence the race report, here is some sage advice for novice and advanced runners:

1. If you choose to do a snot rocket, which first of all, is just vile and disgusting, please pull over to the side of the road. There is plenty for room to do so, with moderate privacy. At the very least, do so to be courteous, because, SERIOUSLY, I do not want to be snotted on. There is one person that could snot on me without consequence and that is my child.

2. If you are going to STOP in the middle of the race, please, please, please, for your safety and the safety of other runners, PULL THE HELL OVER.

3. If you are going to spit, please, for all that is holy and mighty, DON’T do it in the middle of the road. Refer to number one. It is foul and disgusting. Have some manners!

4. If you must pass a slower runner, please make sure your pace is actually FASTER than said slower runner, thereby NOT causing a collision when you cut back over. Please do not run like you drive, cutting people off, all willy-nilly-like. It’s rude and dangerous.

5. Please do not walk 5, 6, 7, 8 abreast, blocking the road. Make room for the faster runners that do not want to walk and read your lame slogan on the back of your shirt.

6. When you get to the water station, grab your water, and move the hell out of the way. We are all running the same race and other people are thirsty too.

7. When using the port-a-potty, please do not poop on the seat. Just, GROSS. Don’t do it. Aim better, or something. Ick.

Okay, that is a good start.

We left our house at 4:30 a.m., after taking a few pre-race photos.

My toe socks. These are designed to prevent blisters and I am pleased to announce that they did their duty!

Sleepy-eyed, but dressed and ready to run!

We made good time getting to Balboa Park, for the 20 minute bus ride to Cabrillo National Monument. We had well over an hour to spare, which gave us plenty of time to eat our pre-race gourmet meal of a banana, a sports nutrition bar, and another bottle of water. We had plenty of time to wait in the long port-a-potty lines, get a few photos, stretch, and relax. The gun went off and we made our way with the rest of the racing herd, with Mr. Bear mooing as we were corralled to the starting line.

The light of the camera was blinding Mr. Bear

The crowd before daylight, at Cabrillo

We have no idea who this weirdo is. She just randomly jumped into our photo. What a fruit!

The views were pretty

We finally hit the starting line, some 7 minutes after the gun went off. Fortunately, this race has timing chips, so pushing and shoving to get to the start is highly unnecessary, however extremely common. The first five miles are fairly easy, with gentle, rolling hills. The scenery is beautiful, with views of downtown, the harbor, and the park. My first mile, I clocked at 9:10. Whoa, there, Fella, no need to go out so fast. I was caught up in the moment, however, finishing the first 4 miles in just under 40 minutes. In my head, the coach’s advice of not starting out to fast rang through my ears and I pushed on through. I glided down the first 5 miles, without much effort and I was feeling confident. I skipped the first three water stations, not wanting to get caught up in the traffic jam and feeling hydrated enough to continue. Perhaps, I was acting too confident. I was calculating my race finish, a bit too cocky for my own good.

Miles five through seven are rather flat. The course takes us past the airport, with not much to look at, except for the people ahead. The course then, meanders along Harbor Island, making a u-turn, then a loop around, then back out, through the car rental terminals. Normally, I HATE this part. Today, it was not bad at all. I did a lot of jog/walking through the water station to mile 8, then picked up the pace to mile 9.

This is about the time I started feeling my hamstrings tighten. The pounding of the pavement was taking its toll and I was started to get fatigued. The nine mile mark is always where I get my second wind. I was not feeling any wind today, except what was being passed by the guy in front of me. He may have tied one on last night. Good Lord. I picked up steam to get out of the green fog in front of me. Mr. Bear and I were running/jogging with each other. Mile nine and ten were mostly unremarkable. I was getting excited that we were so close to being done. Only Sixth Avenue, I kept telling myself.

This is about when I began to lose it a little. I was feeling tired and the ominous trek up Sixth Avenue was shaking my confidence. Sixth Avenue boasts a steep, never-ending hill, which is situated on mile 11, when most runners are out of gas. At mile ten, I began feeling my hamstrings ache and my legs felt like lead. I was getting more tired with every step. Mr. Bear and I walked most of the way up Sixth.

The mile 12 marker was at the crest of Sixth Avenue’s monstrous hill. I decided at that point, that I just wanted to run to the finish and get the pain over with. I gave it my all, across the Laurel Street bridge, winding around the Balboa Park museums, and to the water fountain. As the course turned past the water fountain, I saw the banner of the finish line. I began crying. It was so emotional to finish. I finished, according to my Garmin at 2 hours 32 minutes. Mr. Bear followed just behind at 2:36. For whatever reason, my Garmin and the “official race results” do not agree, so the official stats are: Me- 2:35, Mr. Bear- 2:37.

I struggled at the end of the race. I believe I went out too fast, against my own better judgment, leaving myself little to push with, as I ascended the most difficult section of the course. I am not disappointed. We did not complete our last two training runs. There just was not time with the camping and trip to New York. We had a great training, camping, and going to New York. We are both pleased to have completed the half. Last year, I finished in 2:47, and Mr. Bear finished in 2:54. That is a huge improvement for both of us.

To read previous race reports from the AFC Half:

2009
2006(pictures)

Dad: Hey Laura! The pink elephants are marching down the street again!
Me: I come running to the front door WHERE? WHERE ARE THEY?
Dad: AHHHH, you just missed them.
Me: sad face Ahhhh. Why do I always miss them?

I think I believed that load of crap until I was 15 8 or so. Another time, he was a Sports Chalet with my 15 year old brother, when he came across a unicycle. The salesman came over and asked if my they needed any help with anything. “No, no,” my father said, “I was just reminiscing about my time with Ringling Bros. Circus, when I was a unicycle rider. Intrigued, the salesman asked my dad a multitude of questions about his employment with the circus. My dad obliged all the questions, straight-faced, ending with something to the effect of, “Yeah, it was good times, but the wife could not handle all the traveling around, so I had to find another job.” On the way out of the store, my brother said, “DAD! How come I never knew about your time in the circus?”

See what I mean? The bullshit. It runs deep in this family. It has also been passed onto the next generation.

A few weeks ago, Allie was staying with my parents, when my dad began telling Allie about the plethora of animals we had growing up. “Did you know your mommy used to have horses?” True story. We had horses, ponies, pigs, cows, goats, chickens, turkeys, dogs, cats, rabbits, guinea pigs. Perhaps, never all of them at the same time. Unimpressed by Pop’s stories, he upped the ante by saying, “THEN, your mommy got a camel.” “YEAH!?” Allie said, as her face lit up. “Yeah,” he said. “Then, what did she name it?” she quarried. “She called it Mammal. Mammal the camel.” He continued on the charade for some time longer, answering details of the imaginary camel I never met. She seemed satisfied with this and moved on.

Later in the week, Mr. Bear and I had attended an event, in which one of the attendees was wearing pants in the most painful of ways. They were riding up the crotch and they looked anything but comfortable. It seriously appeared that it could be doing damage to her, you know, her lady parts. I could not stop looking. Should I say something? Clearly, this woman could use an intervention.

When we returned home, Mr. Bear and I were discussing the level 10 camel toe we witnessed. “How could anyone think that is okay? I DO NOT want to see your camel walking around! For the love of God, don’t hurt the thing!” I said, just as Allie walked into the room. She blurted out, “WHO has a camel in their backyard?” No, Sweetie, the camel is in the front yard.

Recreated by Mr. Bear with our neck pillow on the plane. Yes, we are classy folk.

Do you know how many BFF’s I gained through this conference? These woman are freaking amazing!

When we returned to our NYC Hilton home, Mr. Bear and I partook in some cocktails downstairs, walked around Midtown a bit, then had a drink at the Warwick Hotel, across the street from the Hilton. Neither of us had any clue the famous patrons that have lived or stayed for extended periods at the Warwick Hotel: Elvis Presley, Carey Grant, Jimmy Stewart, the Beatles, the Monkees, Jimi Hendrix, as well as many others. We sipped our $11 pint of beer and opted not for another beverage at those prices, feeling a bit of celebrity ourselves. We smoked cloves and then went to bed at 3:30 a.m.

——————
Friday

Friday morning, I missed the Newbie breakfast somehow? How did I miss it? I haven’t a clue. We did not get our conference agendas until we hit breakfast Thursday, not when we checked in. It would have been helpful to have that manual on Thursday(((Shrugs)))) Oh well. If there is one thing I learned about BlogHer, it is to be flexible. Do not over-schedule. Relax. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Breakfast was sponsored by Tropicana. When we walked into the breakfast area, greeters were shouting, “Don’t forgot ‘Juice with Bruce!’ Meet Bruce Jenner before you leave and get your picture with him!” You can see in THIS post that I did, in fact have juice with Bruce, and it may have been one of the more awkward moments of my life. I only got my picture with him because I find the cast of “Keeping Up With the Kardashians” to be rather cartoon-like. Besides, I thought Mr. Bear would get a big laugh out of the pictures. In spite of everything, Bruce seems the least cartoon-like of all of them. I stepped up to Bruce and said, “Could I get a picture with you?” He acquiesced and I handed my camera to someone to quickly snap our photo.

Only, it did not happen quickly. My cell phone or the person I asked to take the picture malfunctioned and I stood there arm and arm with Bruce Jenner, while she fumbled with the thing. I laughed my nervous laugh. The obnoxious one, reserved for situations such as these. We reset the cell phone and at long last, click, click. Voila! We had a picture. Finally. It felt like five minutes of awkward, however, was likely far less time.

Tamra Barney of “The Real Housewives of Orange County” was also at breakfast, however, I concluded having one uncomfortable brush with celebrity was more than enough. It would be unfair for me not to mention—Mr. Potato Head and the Pillsbury Doughboy were also there. They seemed friendly enough.

I made an oath to myself before arriving at BlogHer. I would never sit alone, stand alone, or isolate. I vowed to introduce myself and my goal was to pass out all of the 1000 business cards I brought with me. I accomplished my goal of introducing myself, nonetheless, I only half accomplished the second goal. I probably have 250 business cards left. Not too shabby! I sat at a almost full table of women, near the front of the room. I met, Liz of Everyday Goddess, whom I was familiar with her and her blog. I met some other women at the table, some familiar faces and some brand new. There was a lot of chit-chat, then the keynote speaker began. The keynote was inspiring and I felt like a part of something very important. You can find the keynote speaker transcripts/podcasts (and of all conference sessions) HERE. Then, we were dismissed to the conference sessions.

All I can say about the three sessions I attended (Writing Lab: Writing Inspiration: Stoke Your Creativity, Personal: ROYO – Latinas in Social Media, and Professional: ROYO – Social Media is Bringing Sexy Back to Branding — Do You Have the Social Media Strategy and Tools for Success?), is this: phenomenal, inspiring, awesome, and FUCKING AMAZING! They were so good and I came back up to the room, reeling from the head-full of information I had been bestowed. It was honestly, a little overwhelming, yet not regrettable.

I hastily got ready to go back downstairs after freshening up after the sessions; exhausted, however, not ready to succumb to the fatigue. I grabbed a beverage with Mr. Bear, whom I had not seen ALL day, then got back to it. Somehow, I forgot that the Aiming Low EZ PZ Party I had been so incredibly excited about was at 6:00 p.m. that evening. I am so sorry to say that I missed it. I almost cried.

I met some women at the bar downstairs. One I particularly connected with, I had no idea what an accomplished writer she is! Tracey was super friendly and so interesting to talk to. She was down to Earth and I ended up feeling like I had known her for years.

I finished up my Pink Twitter (a drink the hotel was offering in honor of the conference) and made my way to the Gala party, where the fun really began. I hold the opinion that the Gala should have been Saturday, rather than Friday, as it would have been a great time to wrap everything up. The crowd was rather small, as there were many private events going on in the city. Nevertheless, I have to say that as few people that were there, I meet some amazing people and had a blast. There was karaoke. Enough said. (For fuck’s sake, can I think of another word than “amazing”? I guess not!)

Guess who forgot her camera up in the room? The elevator situation was a bit frustrating. It took sometimes 20 minutes to get an elevator up or down. Because we were on the 26th floor, taking the stairs was not an option. I would argue that getting an elevator was more difficult than getting a cab at rush hour, in New York City. So, camera stayed put in the hotel room. On another note, this post is very verbose, tomorrow’s may not be, as I will have photos! photos! and more photos! I have been warned, however, that photos of me that evening do exist and to be afraid—very afraid.

I went to the party alone, which was rather intimidating. I sent Mr. Bear a text message saying I was all alone and feeling a bit uncomfortable. By the time he answered my text, I had met a group of girls that I hung out with the rest of the night. I met Jen from Boston, Jenn of Growing Up Guarro and Jenn’s co-worker Sierra, of Actual Mom. The two Jen(n)s and I were inseparable the rest of the night, laughing like school girls and having a great time. We wandered down to the bar, where we closed it down.

Jen from Boston and Jenn (Jenn, two N’s) This photo is from the following night—the parties! Oh! The Parties!

I turned in at 3:00 a.m. It was a full and exhilarating day! I cannot even put into words how much fun I had and what an experience this truly was! Stay tuned for the parties! the swag! the photos! and other adventures!