Natalie e-mailed me the other day to see if everything was okay because I hadn't posted in a while. And although she may be the only one who's concerned, I thought I'd let all of you know I'm still around, just laying on the couch pretty damn sick. And when you've been sick for a few days, very little happens in your life that seems blog worthy. I did have some great soup for dinner yesterday and---oh!---we have a new, baby nephew. Mike's cousin had a little boy on Tuesday who is named Beckham Cane, and isn't that the best movie-star name you've heard in ages? We went to visit him (don't worry, I kept a safe distance) and he's adorable. He has this dark, full head of hair but with actual blond highlights streaked through as if he stopped by the salon on his way out. And as if that isn't enough good boy news for one week, my dear friend Cherie---who is having twins this December---found out they are identical boys. She's still a bit early so there will be official confirmation soon, but we're pretty sure, and I couldn't be happier for her. TWIN! BOYS!
But other than that, I really have got nothing to offer you. My house is dirty, but my husband has been wonderful while I've been laid up on the couch, and so things aren't all that bad even though I feel like ass.
Actually, there is the little matter of Molly officially learning how to open the back door on her own---video to come! camera is dead and I cannot muster the energy to find the battery charger!---but it's turned her into a giant, irritating asshole. See, when Molly goes outside and then comes back in, we usually give her a treat. Not always, but definitely when I come home from work and first let her out, and also when I'm just sort of feeling generous or she's being especially adorable. Now, she realizes that she doesn't always get a treat but that doesn't stop her from always hoping for one. Since she's learned to go in and out on her own, she goes in and out EVERY FIVE DAMN SECONDS I AM NOT EVEN KIDDING. She opens the door and lets herself out. And then, look! She's back in again! She walks around the couch, eyeing me to see if I have a treat in hand for her and then goes back outside. Yesterday, while home sick, I swear the dog went outside 976 times. She was even outside when a freak thunderstorm blew threw---knocking out power while I was watching Baby Borrowers---and she refused to come in. I got up, opened the door and yelled for her to come in but she just stared at me while getting pelted with insanely heavy rain. The look on her face said, "I WILL STAY OUT HERE AS LONG AS IT TAKES FOR YOU TO THINK I DESERVE A TREAT." That dog totally takes after her father.
So, moving along, BlogHer? That's, like, right around the corner. Heather wrote a really great piece on what to expect, what to bring, what to know before you go. And if you're going, it's definitely worth the read. And if you're not---JONNA, I AM GLARING AT YOU---then you really should be going only because how I will hug you awkwardly and compliment your shoes if YOU'RE NOT GOING TO BE THERE? But if you are, will you let me know? I'd like to know who I should keep my eyes peeled for. I'd hate to be constantly swiveling my head and craning my neck trying to seek you out and you're instead tucked safely in North Carolina or wherever else you may call home.
There's been a lot of talk of clothes (um, by me) and shoes and losing five pounds before showing up in the Bay Area for this bloggity conference, and I'm really trying to take a step back from all that. First, it gets ass cold in San Francisco, even in the middle of July, so those extra five pounds could serve you better than you think and, also, that's just SO MUCH PRESSURE. Trying to impress the pants off a hotel-full of people is effing daunting, isn't it? I'd like to think that the friends I've made here already like and respect me and wearing something from last season from (gasp) Old Navy won't change your mind. And if so, well, then that drink I promised you? REVOKED. I don't want to get too kumbaya on you, but it's so damn cool that the hotel is going to be packed full of really talented and cool women and we shouldn't lessen that by worrying about who will be judging us or calling us fat behind our backs. It's bigger and better than all that.
I'm leaving my husband for a week for this trip. I'm spending a LOT of our savings. I'm sucking up the last of my vacation days. I'm going to make the time worth it. I won't spend it hating on or obsessing about being hated from afar.
I am planning to wear these shoes, though, for at least a solid hour of the conference, so if you happen to see them, swing by and say hello. (Only if you'd like!) I promise the awkward hugs aren't quite so awkward after the first ten seconds. Or after you've run away screaming. Either or.