My Blogher Recap: The Third Time was the Charm, Four Balls, That's a Walk

This is not the popular opinion, and I feel the need to write a disclaimer. This is my fourth Blogher, and it has treated me well, for the most part, but this year the star didn't shine nearly as brightly as it has in the past..

Back from BlogHer and there is one word that comes to mind for my experience: disconnected. I know, sounds like I had an awful time, but that's not true. What is true is that there were a lot of people at BlogHer, which, at times made it very difficult to find my people. It is true that the first night I came this-close to heading back to my room after cruising The People's Party, saying hi to the scant number of people I recognized, and a few I didn't. Then, feeling like a fish out of water, I flopped on to a nearby bench,where I had a great conversation with someone I had never met. Later I went back to the party, and found people I knew. And it was good.

It's true I spent sessions mostly alone or with new people. It's true that I ate lunch, again, mostly by myself, or with new people. I headed into parties and saw a sea of unfamiliar faces, all of whom were already attached. My wing-woman friends didn't make it this year, so I was on my own to find companionship.. It proved to be a challenge. Because, really, how long can you hang out in a cocktail circle of people you know in real life (but better online) without seeming like some sort of creepy stalkerish person? I can tell you. Exactly ten minutes. Beep. Time to find a new circle. Ever wonder how you can be lonely in a sea of 3000? I do. Everyone is very friendly; but where are your friends? Hopefully, you brought those with you. That sounds pathetic. I don't mean to complain.

I don't want you to feel sorry for me. In some respects, I had a great time. There were high points. I did a lot of dancing with friends, (When I could find them) and hung out in hotel rooms for great conversations with both old friends and new..pizza at 2 a.m. in the lobby, as well. I had some nice meals with people I basically foisted myself upon (thank you to you, by the way). In outward appearance, I am sure it looked like I was having a grand old time. I did have fun, in snippets. It was just the overall package that didn't work for me. At some point, you get tired of inviting yourself along and just want to be included by someone who wants you there. You want to be expressly invited to dinner, to the party, to wherever, instead of just...tagging along.

On the way home, I had a lot of time to ruminate and I have decided that as much as I like Blogher, that ship has sailed. That martini has been shaken. That blog has been posted. This was Blogher #4 for me, and I think I am just done. I am at that awkward stage: I am too old to drink 'til distraction, but I still like to stay up until the wee hours. I just feel like I have no business there, with the cool kids. I love almost everyone at Blogher, but am a friend to few. I enjoyed seeing people, but as far as deep connections? Few and far between. I felt in the way, a lot. If you fall off the face of social media and no one is there to see it, do you even make a sound? That's where I am right now.

I will continue to blog, and to tweet, but think during the week of Blogher, I will take a sabbatical. I am too old to feel "in the way." High school was a long, long time ago, and wasn't much fun; I really don't cherish reliving it. So I won't be doing that again.

Ever want to feel like the only girl in the room? Go to Blogher by yourself. The experience will trigger every insecurity you have ever felt. And you will find just how far you have yet to go in order to feel accepted.

Help for Christchurch after Earthquake

On Tuesday, Christchurch, New Zealand, one of the five largest cities in the country, was rocked by a 6.3 earthquake that caused buildings to collapse, leaving hundreds trapped and sixty-five dead, as of last count. Several aftershocks have left more damage in their wake, and the people of Christchurch sit on pins and needles waiting for what’s to come.

Last September, a series of earthquakes tore through Christchurch, weakening buildings, but little else. This time, the damage is far and widespread. Buildings that have been standing for hundreds of years have crumbled under the weight of this quake. Large cracks in the roads have appeared. California? This? Could be US.

I know, not my usual upbeat, humorous piece. But you see, I was just in Christchurch, last year. I fell in love with the historic old city, and I am so saddened to see what has happened there. And what do politically conscious, social media types do when we feel like we can’t do anything? We write. We publicize. So.

If you feel that you might want to help, you can give to the

Red Cross NZ

if you want to follow trends on twitter:

#eqnz
#christchurch
#NewZealand
#NiewZeeland (Dutch)
And I, for one, will remember my beloved Christchurch like this:


















In time, buildings can be rebuilt. The people of Christchurch? Well, that's another thing entirely.
T.

You Like me, you really like me! My day at the L.A. Blogger's Brunch

Earlier this month, I had the distinct pleasure to attend the L.A. Bloggers' Brunch at the Shade hotel in Manhattan Beach. Top area bloggers were treated to an omelet bar, pastries with all the trimmings and fresh-squeezed orange juice and coffee. Beforehand, was a seminar with great speakers like my friends Ciaran andCaryn. In a roomful of marketers, P.R. people and bloggers, we discussed whether or not a blogger should return merchandise after review. It was decided that if the vendor wants it back, they need to say so, and they also need to make it easy to return, perhaps postage-paid. But optimal would be not having to return at all. This is a controversial topic, and I am not sure we reached a consensus.

At the brunch,some brands were on hand to meet and mingle such as Dyson, Pottery Barn, Bandai, Nickelodeon toys, Pajama jeans and more.

Dyson is now making a vacuum specifically for those with animals. I may need one of those with the Newfie! In fact, I know I could give it a run for the money with two long-haired cats and a Newfoundland dog. Do you have any idea how much shedding is done in this house? Hey Dyson! Want to do some product testing?? Let's see just how good that sucker is! Vacuum...sucker...see what I did there??

Backyard Safari showed their toys that will be in Target and other major retailers..I was enamoured with the large magnifying glass frame made of plastic. Very good for tide pools!

It was a wonderful morning for all concerned. I met some really nice people, new contacts and renewed old friendships. It was great to get out and eat a meal I didn't have to 1) COOK and 2) CLEAN UP AFTER <--THIS is huge!

And, as if that wasn't enough, there were some nice perks. Pottery Barn treated us all to a tote bag with a really nice beach towel. Bandai gave us a fun bag of goodies, including JBean's favorite, Harumika. She just loves this line that encourages creativity. (No, really, she will play for hours, and it keeps her quiet in the car in traffic. That right there is worth the price of admission, in my mind). Nickelodeon provided some of their top toys, as well. Temptress was on hand to do makeovers. Prizes were won. Dyson gave away some vaccuums. Sadly, not to me. And? Apparently there is a $100 mascara. Who knew?! (for that price, it should make me look, if not like Angelina, at least like Sandra...without the plastic surgery. What? It could happen!)

Thank you, Child's Play for the invitation. It was a great event!

T, who was just happy to be there

I did not receive compensation for this post, and no one made me write it. I did get an amazing omelet (with avocado and bacon and cheese!) and some nifty gifties.

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Sometimes life is just beyond not fair

I wrote this a couple of days ago, but couldn't publish until now. I wanted to post it, so I am going ahead and doing so.

I'm sitting here in my no-tell motel,a stone"s throw from califmom's house. she offered me the couch, but I didn't want to impose. Being that tonight is the night before her husband's funeral, it didn't seem right to stay. I flew up this afternoon, and spent the evening with her and some of our Blogher/twitter people. We laughed and ate and drank...almost forgetting what brought us together. Almost, but not quite.

I hate the fact that tomorrow we will be sitting in a church saying goodbye to her husband. Afterwards,we will drink. Sadly, I will board a plane for L.A. on Tuesday. I can't be here...I have my own obligations at home.

The good news is she has really good support here in real life. I just wish it could be me.

Still, she has angels, one of whom is, @mcqueenie23 who is organizing a meal fund, so if you want to donate, either message her on twitter, or hit her blog. All of you who read this...you are awesome, you know this, right?

UPDATE: Califmom posted her post about the funeral, you might want to read it.

T, who hopes you can help

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Proof my children are a pain in the butt..but it's better now

This week I had the supreme pleasure to visit Pelican Hill Resort for Mom's Day Off with my girls, the bloggers from OC Family. I brought the kids with me, and they spent the day at Camp Pelican, the kids' club…keeping the kids occupied so mama could relax= WIN!

I drove up to the front of the hotel, a beautiful property, located on the ocean, and the valet took one look at my 2001 van that has seen better days and said, "May I help you?" Giving me a level stare, it was clear he thought I was lost. Ah, but I have learned how to deal with this! I acted as though I belonged there, and told him where I was going, and if he didn't warm up, he at least thawed a bit. As I opened the door to get the kids out, I prayed all of the flotsam that accumulates in the back would stay put and not find its way onto the pristine cobblestones below. The god of Minivan Crap heard my prayer. Of course, the valet parked my car out of sight so as not to besmirch the Bentleys and Mercedes that were draped all over the circular drive.

Once inside the spa, though, the attitude changed completely! Everyone was so wonderful at this award-winning spa. I headed to the locker room, and changed into my robe and slippers, then was escorted to the waiting room before treatment was to begin. It was a luxurious and relaxing place, and as I sipped warm tea, enjoyed the soft lights, fresh flowers and water features, I didn't want to leave. I was booked for a massage, and soon Gregory, my therapist, came to get me to begin. I was taken aback because this man was the size of a linebacker on a pro football team! But he had very gentle hands, with just the right amount of pressure. As he was massaging me, my body started to relax and I swear, I needed to pass gas. I was lying there, trying to will myself not to do so, also trying to relax at the same time. And then? He started massaging my hands, and I swear this is true, he pulled my finger! Well, now if you had a dad, you would know what happens when you pull his finger, right? Just me? So the conditioning set in, and I found myself silently praying I would "remain silent" and not just let one go. My prayer to the Anti-Flatulence gods was answered. Thankfully, I was spared that particular embarrassment!

I did find, though, that my glutes "needed work". (that's "butt muscles" for those of us that are fitness-lingo-impaired). I wear the Skechers Shape Up shoes, and apparently, I wear them too much, because my butt was really, really tight. (I always thought it was good to have a tight butt?!)Also, I seem to carry my tension in my uh..backside.the jokes here just write themselves...it's just too easy. Since the muscles never really get a chance to relax, it can cause back problems. And as he was getting those particular muscles to release (which meant pushing on my butt cheeks as hard as he could…ow!) all I could think is, "This is proof my children are a pain in my posterior!" Yeah, that. In any case, an hour later, and sufficiently pulled, prodded and pummeled into pudding, the warm, gooey kind, I decided that I was going to take Gregory home and hide him in my closet. Once I go back again, I am totally going to steal him.

The massage was followed by refreshments afterwards, and a quick dip in the jacuzzi (with a disposable bikini swim suit…the less said about that the better!) But of course, I cannot do anything that is "less".. so suffice it to say, I haven't worn a bikini since oh… 1989? Of course, the alternative was to go in au naturel and that just isn't my thing. This isn't the Eighties, and I am NOT 21 anymore. I wear clothes now. Almost always.

After we were dressed, we headed over to the Coliseum Grill for an amazing salad with grilled prawns the size of a baby's fist. No, really. We also met Kim, our editor and Steve, the Big Cheese, head honcho CEO with a sense of humor from Churm Media..responsible for our OC Family and other local publications. We had quite the nice chat. Steve was a very good sport, hanging out with bloggers who are known for candor. His education has now begun regarding tampons and using Facebook while in the bathroom.(Beckey called it a "Facebook Dump"). We ended the meal with tiramisu gelato and coffee, and more laughter. It was wonderful. Some of the girls were able to experience a post-lunch sit in their own private cabana with a view of the ocean. Which makes me wonder…did it come with a cabana boy? Sadly, though, it was time for me to go home, I didn't want to push my kids too far with a new experience. I felt I needed to get them home. Turns out, they would have loved to have stayed longer. Who knew?

The entire experience surpassed my expectations. The massage I had was the best of my life. I can completely understand how much of their client base is local. Though they are expensive, they would inspire loyalty from the repeat visitors. Some even come to the spa three times a week! I cannot even imagine. Nevertheless,it was a joy to be able to see what I am missing by not being able to live the "spa lifestyle." My kids have informed me that we need to "get rich" so they can go back to Camp Pelican. They were given parting gifts, which they thought was the coolest thing, ever. The care they received there made all the difference. I was able to completely relax knowing they were in good hands. I do plan to go back there, as a bit of a treat to myself when I can. I wonder if I could sell my children to finance that particular endeavor?

T, who wants to go back, right now

I was not paid to write this post, but I did receive the best massage ever. No one made me write this...I just loved my experience so much I chose to write about it.

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No witty title, just a simple and heartfelt goodbye Bob

Early this morning, Bob quietly went gentle into that good night. And we mourn and we rage along with califmom, Leah, and her kids. In a situation like this, I suppose it is human nature to make it about yourself. What if it had been my family? How would we survive? What would we do? But, tonight, I refrain from going there. Because Leah needs me. She needs us.

She needs us to mourn with her, and make her laugh, and remember to sling the sarcasm.definitely do not forget the sarcasm! At some point, Leah may appreciate that Bob ended this life on Velociraptor Awareness Day. It just seems...right. Bob was a nut. In any case, she needs us to acknowledge what has happened, and to cry with her and to carry on as though everything was the same. And as though everything were different. She needs us to post our ridiculous tweets and goofy pictures. She needs normalcy, or, as much as she can get.

Or at least, that is what I think she needs. To be honest, I have no earthly idea what she needs, I can only guess. Which makes me feel very helpless...not a place I am used to being!

Tonight, JNerd and I, for wont of doing something, raised our glasses and had a shot of Patron, the premium tequila that was Bob's favorite. We drink to a life well-lived, and well-loved. We honor Bob's life. And we drink to the missed opportunity of being able to drink that shot with Bob himself. Just before he got sick, I met Leah and Bob in San Diego. We had dinner, and since I was driving later that night, I conservatively refrained from doing shots with the two of them. Though I didn't leave for hours afterward, I stuck to coffee that night. We reasoned we would have a "raincheck." That raincheck never came. A month later, he was sick.

So, tonight, we raised our glasses to a wonderful guy. An amazing and supportive husband; a loving father. And though JNerd had never actually met Bob, it didn't matter. Imaginary unicorn internet friends are ALWAYS there for one another. But don't let the smiles fool you, I have been in tears for them all day.

You say you want to help? I am so glad. Because this is a family that has been fractured, and with the expenses coming, they will need your support. Bob was also the sole income, so there will be some adjustments and transitions made. (Though I am not sure what those will entail,I can only imagine). So, yes, they need our help. You can go here, and donate via Paypal. Don't feel awkward, just think if it had been your family. Also, for the record, this paypal account was NOT Leah's idea...it was borne at the request of those who wanted to help. Posting it on her blog made it readily accessible. They say it takes a village. Bullshit, it takes the Internet. And, when she is ready, we will be here.

T, who is mourning along with my friend

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The One where I get schooled...again

Image via Wikipedia

Homeschooling can be a lot of fun. What? Stop laughing, no really. I mean, the times I lie awake at night worried that my son can't do Algebra and my daughter can't read well enough are just a million laughs. The stress and responsibility I feel when it seems the kids cannot function academically, socially or behaviorally the way I believe they should, well, it makes me want to drink. And I am not talking about Tang or Milk here, either. Send Mama a martini!

Often, though, when I feel like I have reached my limit…when I think I am doing my children a great disservice by schooling them at home and that they would be better off in a public school setting, with all of its weaknesses and the lack of placement for higher-functioning autism/Asperger's? Well,the kids go and make cognitive leaps, seemingly overnight. Almost like they have to prove me wrong. They show me that it isn't that bad, and that it always gets better. Or, you drink. Something the kids didn't show me. And just an aside, I talk about drinking, but do very little of it. It doesn't make a very good coping mechanism, to be honest. Karate works better. And yoga. And screaming. In the car, with the windows up. By myself. I tried it once with the kids in the car, and they flipped out. Thought I grew two heads. Note to self: save the theatrics for alone time, mama!

In any case, I have been laboring over my daughter's lack of reading fluency. This week, JBean started to read. And she did it the way her brother did…which is what I kept telling myself, even as I second-guessed her progress. "She will get there, and it will seem almost overnight." This is my wakeup mantra when I want to close the book on the whole homeschool experiment. One morning she woke up, wanted to read with me. I obliged. One hundred pages of Dick & Jane later? She is finally a reader, in her own mind. I knew she could read, but she didn't want to call herself a reader, she thought she wasn't "good enough." Yes, she read all of those pages in one morning, and was still rarin' to go when I called No Joy and begged for a break. My ears were tired!

This morning,needing an audience for her newest parlor trick, she waylaid Poppy, our pup, to show her what she had learned. And, as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words:

So. I will keep homeschooling my children, because I believe that it works best for our family. They will continue to do outside activities and lessons and we will treasure this time together. They will grow and mature, and continue to trust themselves, as I try not to undermine that. And we will continue to love one another. That is, when we aren't wanting to hurl Nerf darts at one another. Although, now that I think about it...that could work. We'll just call it P.E. Kids need P.E. don't they? What did I do with that blasted Nerf gun?

T, who learns so much from homeschooling her children

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I felt the earth move

Nope, this post isn't about sex or Carole King. This afternoon, we had an earthquake here in California, a nice long, slow one. It was fine, just surprising. The quake was centered in Mexico, and was a 7.2. All part of living in Southern California, and waiting for the Big One.

Some quick pics of our celebration:

Spring cupcakes

My girls, and their cousins

the Easter Bunny brought rain boots

Poppy, with her toy from her Easter bucket. Yes, that is a flamingo..isn't it funny?

T, who hopes your holiday was a happy one

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What you can do for califmom's family RIGHT NOW

SO MANY have asked how to help Leah and Bob, and this is the first thing we can do:

We can give. I know, I know..the economy. But. Every little bit helps. Can you find any amount? Not going to insult your intelligence to tell you to give up your Starbucks or any other thing. You know what you can afford. Do what you can.

Childhood friends of Leah's aka califmom, have started a fund to help the family with the expenses that come with Bob's illness. Insurance doesn't cover it all, and added expense of eating food out, keeping kids occupied... well it all adds up. So. Here is what we can do (posted from Michelle's facebook account):

Bank of America, Nevada
Account Name: Norling Family
Account #: 501008379041
If you're making a deposit in person, you must have the account number. BofA can not look it up for you, even if you have the account name.

If you would like to handle your donation by mail, please make your check payable to the Norling Family. Remember to write the account number in the memo portion and mail it to:

Michelle Wolfkiel
P.O. Box 193
Minden, NV 89423

She plans to make deposits on Fridays and balance updates will be available on Michelle's facebook account.

From Michelle:

Not going to worry about thank you's right now, but we will make every effort to keep track of everyone's name. Thank you all in advance for your love, prayers, and generous support of Leah, Bob, and their children.

As we celebrate Christ's ultimate sacrifice this Easter weekend, I ask you all to please give until it hurts.

Please feel free to repost this information wherever you think it might do the most good. You should also know this is a non-interest bearing, free checking account and EVERY penny will be available to Leah's family when they need it.

T, who knows you want to help

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An open letter to the God who lacks a sense of humor

I can't make you laugh tonight. Because all I can do is cry. I wish that wasn't the case, but it just is. Someone I care a lot about, one of my imaginary unicorn friends, my girl from BlogHer and beyond, is, as we speak, preparing to live her life without her husband.

And I don't understand. My heart hurts. No amount of glitter or kittens or rainbows can make this better. Not now. For her and for him, and for her kids. You see, this is not a divorce, this is not voluntary at all. This is about a disease. A horrible, nasty, debilitating disease that has stolen their lives and their family. A disease he beat once, and that came back with a vengeance. We of the Internet said fuck cancer. And he did for a while. Now he has run out of time. The crazy thing is that after all of this, the tumor is shrinking. But the damage is done...his lungs and heart are damaged, and they've reached the end of this journey.

I haven't been able to write this, because I guess I didn't want to admit it, and I didn't want to hurt her to see it in print, though God knows she is writing about it, probably to keep herself sane and try to comprehend the incomprehensible.

Her husband is dying of cancer. And he isn't going to leave the hospital. She is losing her love, and her best friend. Her children are losing their father. And I don't care who you are, or how much faith you claim to have, there is nothing, not one thing, that you can say to make me believe this is okay.

God works in mysterious ways, they say. I say, maybe he doesn't work at all. Someone has a terrible sense of humor. Are you listening, God?

Dear God,

you might want to get a joke book. You are seriously humor-impaired. I know, you are God, and perfect, all of that. But when it comes to jokes? Yours suck. You might want to spend some time on the Internet, twitter, tumblr. There are some wicked funny people there that might be able to show you the difference between good and funny and just …bad taste.

Because the idea of one of my best friends, my imaginary unicorn of a fierce, and funny friend losing her husband to cancer on April Fool's Day? Well, that's just the biggest cosmic joke, isn't it? Actually, it's in very poor taste, akin to telling a racist joke at the NAACP meeting. It's like telling old people jokes in a retirement home. Telling flood jokes in New Orleans. Bottom Line? That shit ain't funny.

T, who has no tag-line this time

photo by carfull53, under creative commons

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Something wicked (or at least slobbery) this way comes...

Image via Wikipedia

When JNerd and I married, we were apartment dwellers. Though I had dogs all of my life, most apartments don't allow them. I wanted a pet, so we had a cat. But not just any cat. Kalila was amazing. She was a Russian Blue with the softest fur, greenest eyes and quietest meow I have ever known before or since. You could throw a toy mouse down the hall and she would fetch it, bring it back, and wait for you to throw it again. You know those little brown salt-and-pepper moths that get into grains? We would get them in our little-used spare room and she would lead us there to hunt. After picking her up, she would stand on her hind legs on JNerd's palm, and catch the moths off the wall, often near the ceiling. Think: the Dobie-Matic from Far Side. She would also do acrobatics trying to capture a feather on a wire. Flips, backflips, it was a sight to see. She was very polite, unless you were eating chicken, and then she would sit on the arm of the couch and bat at your hand with her paw. Sort of the cat equivalent of tapping you on the shoulder.

About a year later, we acquired Beleu. Small, grey and fuzzy, his quiet grey eyes missed nothing. He picked me as I walked by a pet store near the coffee house where I worked. He reached his paw out, grabbed on to my sweater. Of course, I had to stop to disentangle and that's when he got me. I took one look at the small ball of fluff with the serious eyes and, boom, I was his. I hadn't intended to bring another pet home: Kailey was pretty happy being on her own. But he just spoke to me, and became a member of our family. He was small enough to sit on our record player and in JNerd's hand. In fact, that is where his name came from, the big gray bear in The Jungle Book who would float down the river on his back. Beleu loved to be on his back, much like his namesake. We were happy, the four of us. In fact, there was a time I thought the two cats would be the only babies. It didn't work out that way, and a couple of years later (four years from the time we got the cats) our first baby was born.

The cats settled in well with JBug. They treated her like one of their own. The day after she was born, JNerd brought a hat and a blanket home with her scent on it. Before she was born, we made sure to let the cats see, sniff and thoroughly explore her room, and her belongings. So once we brought her home, it was really rather anti-climactic. I could almost see the thought process: they sniffed her head, and her car seat, looked at us, then yawned and retreated to the corner to sleep. "Oh, that's what all the fuss was about, hmm?" New addition added, they seemed to say, "What's for dinner?"

When we moved to a one-level house from an apartment (which had stairs and a paranoid mama with a toddler) we decided to get a dog. At that point, I hadn't had a dog in many years, but still remembered the way they lavish affection upon those they love. So we started looking. JBug was 18 mos old and I wanted them to grow up together. After a lot of searching, I found Tess. Given up by a family who was moving to the beach and didn't have a yard anymore, she was just waiting at the shelter. She was 7 months old, and her name at the time was Lady. She looked anything but. Scraggly, tall, half chow-chow and golden lab (which gave her a decidedly rakish terrier-like face). She was gangly, and goofy-looking, and it was love at first sight for us both. Even when the animal control officers tried to tell me that I didn't want her because she was "mean" (she was afraid of men in uniform) I knew she was the one. Because I have a lot of experience with dogs, I tend to trust my judgment. I was right. Tess never forgot that we gave her a "forever home." She was always so grateful and beyond sweet. In fact, there were times I felt so guilty because she seemed to love us so much, that sometimes, I just wanted her to GO AWAY. With little kids,a dog that needed so much love was the last thing I wanted. But, like a child, she was mine, and I loved her. Tess was with us for twelve years, until she died of cancer in 2006. That was a year after we lost Kailey to kidney failure. She was 13 and a half Six months later, Beleu, at 13, perished in the house fire, along with Siobahn, our 7 year old cat, and a 4 month old kitten, Maia. After that, we were done with pets for a while.

Currently, we have Perry & Winkle (Twinkie) a brother and sister who were rescues from the park where we meet every Monday. They were so small we had to feed them by bottle, teach them how to eat and I had to teach them to use the litterbox. They are pretty nice cats, and like us, though they still have a streak of wild in them at times. I love cats, I really do. The warm lump of fur in my lap is one of life's great comforts, it's true. BUT.

They're going to hate me in about a week. I am bringing a new puppy into the mix. And nothing will ever be the same again.

T, who is so excited I can't hardly stand it

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