Category — BlogHer Diaries

There is an event at the end of this post that begs an RSVP. Just to give you a heads up so you don’t miss it.

Sometimes I write the title before I write the post, and sometimes it is the opposite–the title is not apparent until after I write out my thoughts. This time, it was the former, and I am struggling now with the words “selfishness” and “selflessness” in terms of blogging because they are imperfect terms to further muse on what I observed not only at BlogHer, but in three years of blogging in general. Actually, it’s not just in blogging, but in all interactions in life. But here, because this is a blog, I am discussing it in terms of blogging.

Blogging is obviously by default selfish–it’s all about the “I.” It’s my point of view, it’s my world, it’s what is important to me. Take apart the word: the “ish” is a suffix meaning “resembling” and the main chunk of the word “self” is obvious. Ish turns a noun into an adjective, a description.

Except how can you have words without the writer? And just because there is an important “I” in the equation, doesn’t mean that it is inherently selfish. Perhaps it is more self-ish; resembling the self. Because, at the same time, how can you have a blog without the self? It can never be self-less; without the self. Self, again, is not a dirty word, something we should be striving to remove. It is what makes each blog unique, interesting, necessary–just like the people who write them.

Maybe we should start with a fable? Skip it if you already know this story.

Once there were two sisters, Gentle and Wicked. Their mother loved them both equally, but it was easier to be around Gentle. One day, she asked the girls to get water from the well and Gentle volunteered. Getting the water was hard work and it took her about two hours to get to the well and draw the water. She was set to return home when an old woman approached the well and asked her for help in drawing the water. Gentle gave her the water in her bucket and set about refilling her own.

By the time she got home, her mother was worried because she had been gone a long time. She opened her mouth to speak and a diamond fell out with each word. She kept telling the story over and over again and soon the family had enough diamonds to live comfortably for the rest of their life. They would never worry about food again.

Wicked was thrilled that they had money but was frustrated that her sister was once again her mother’s favourite. The next time water was needed, she volunteered to go, determined to find the same old woman and come home with a mouthful of diamonds so she could be on equal footing with her sister. She filled her bucket and spent the whole day waiting, but the old woman never came. In fact, strangely enough, no one else came to use the well except a girl about Wicked’s age who asked for help in raising the bucket and Wicked told her to do it herself since she was on the lookout for the old woman.

She returned home where her mother was very worried because she had been away for the whole day. She started to tell her mother about why she took so long, but with each word, a frog fell from her lips. Soon, the whole house was filled with frogs and it took Gentle and her mother days to shoo them out. They begged Wicked to never speak again.

The point: give help even when you don’t know what is in it for you.

Or

Don’t fuck with people at wells.

Or

Diamonds are a girl’s best friend.

It’s not really a fair situation on one hand–I think we’d all help the old lady because we can quite clearly see that she needs help and we’re not assholes to the elderly. Wicked may have even helped the old woman if she had been there on that day. But it’s harder to set aside what we believe to be true about another person–about what we believe are their limitations or needs or even what we can get from them–and interact with them without conditions.

For this fable to work, we need to make the assumption that Gentle would help anyone who came to the well and Wicked would only help if she thought she could get something out of the interaction or if not helping made her a huge bitch who looks like she hates on old people.

There was sometimes neck craning at BlogHer–or people who treated me one way before I flipped my name tag around and treated me quite another way after they could see my blog title. And that does feel crappy. I didn’t tell this story last year, but during the speed dating session on the first morning of the 2008 conference, there was a blogger (who has a large readership) who was supposed to move to my table, looked at us, and made a dismissive motion with her hand and picked a different table. That same blogger was there this year. And now she wanted to chat and chat once she saw that I was in the keynote. And frankly, it stung. I was polite because she’s a human being, but I was distracted through the whole conversation because all I could think about was how she treated me the year before.

In light of that fable, selfless blogging can more accurately be called after the first girl in the story Gentle Blogging (and blogging is an interactive, community-based medium. A private journal is not a blog, it is an online private journal. Keeping a private journal that you don’t intend others to read but leave public because you assume no one will find it is not blogging. When I use the term “blog” or “blogging,” I am speaking about people who write an online journal that they intend others to read and utilize the interactive nature of the medium by accepting comments as well as reading other blogs and leaving comments), which is reading blogs and leaving comments without expecting anything in return beyond knowledge. It’s the impulse behind the act. It’s helping out a fellow blogger without knowing their stats and whether there’s something in it for you in the future. It’s reading what interests you; not because it’s popular, but because the words move you.

I give my attention, I give my help, I give my Twitter status, I give my advice or comfort, and I give my clicking finger (oooh, that sounded dirty!) regardless of what I get back from the person. I’m not perfect and requests and people fall through the cracks from time to time. And I apologize for that, but blogging is a hobby, not a career, so there is only so much I can do in my free time.

But I read what I like because I like it. And I follow people on Twitter because I’m interested in what they have to say. And I attended sessions at BlogHer because they sounded interesting. I email back everyone who writes me a personal note that requires an response without regard to whether they have a higher readership or a low readership. I am interested in people and I am interested in stories; regardless of what I may also get out of the relationship.

That is what I mean by Gentle Blogging. Not gentle as in treating something delicately; but Gentle as in the main character of the story whose actions stem from a pure space untainted by the question, “what’s in it for me?”

In regards to help (ranging from retweeting a post for someone to giving an answer to a question on a blog), the people who do the same–who help all regardless of what they can get back–have my utmost respect. It is easier to be kind to people who are kind in return, but I do feel that to be true to myself, I need to suck it up and help even those who ignore me when I ask for help. In other words, I
will post your news on LFCA even if you ignore me every time I’ve asked you to help me out.

Last winter, I asked for a general favour and posed it via a blog post to the general community. More than one blogger took my request and honoured it without being directly asked. Believe me, I notice as you notice when people reach out to you and let you know that they care. I also asked another blogger directly for the same help and she ignored me. I asked a second time and she ignored me again. She recently asked for my help, suddenly realizing that perhaps she can get something from me. It is hard to help, it takes a lot of swallowing down bile (or toads? Or french-cut diamonds?) to post links for her. I do it not for her, but because I need to remain true to myself and this idea I am attempting to articulate on Gentle blogging.

And like the sister in the aforementioned fable, that is the essence of selfish or Wicked Blogging. It’s following people on Twitter not because you’re interested in what they have to say, but because you want to get something out of them. It’s talking shit about a person’s writing in one space, and then fawning over them in another. It’s craning your neck to see if there is someone more interesting in the room at BlogHer rather than getting to know the person in front of you.

What it is not is an expectation that dictates your time or attention–it is not wicked to not read someone back who reads you. In other words, if I start following you on Twitter, it is because I want to hear what you say, not because I want you to follow me too. People have limited time and they can have limited interests and no one should be doing things online out of obligation. The difference is that Gentle Blogging is about doing things because it is meaningful to you or because you wish to help them, simply because they are a human being asking for advice or comfort or aid, and not because you believe that they are worthy due to what they can get you in the long-run (which would be Wicked Blogging).

When I write of “Wicked” blogging, I am merely speaking about the intention behind the action. I just want to make this clear–that Gentle blogging is not reading every single person who reads you and following everyone back on Twitter and Wicked blogging is not about never commenting. It is merely an attitude. It is why you blog, why you read, why you comment, why you Twitter, and why you follow or friend people.

And I think the people who were cranky at BlogHer (with the exceptions of the ones who were cranky with the commercialism) were cranky because they were probably bumping into a lot of Wicked bloggers. But, my question then, is that if you were in a room with 2000 people and you were only finding Wicked bloggers, what were you doing wrong too? Do you see what I mean? No one was tied to one chair for 72 hours–people were free to move around and mingle and mingle and mingle. And vote with their feet. So if you weren’t meeting cool people and learning about new blogs, was it because you were literally blocked in by a wall of Wicked bloggers who ignored you or was it because you didn’t put yourself out there enough?

I am trying not to sound like I’m blaming the victim, but frankly, I don’t think there are truly victims in this situation. There is shyness, but people who are shy tend to understand why they are not meeting people and tend not to complain about it. For the people who complained about that aspect of the conference or who complain about the state of blogging or who bitch about the behaviour of others: what are you doing to be the change you want to see in the world?

I’ve been thinking about Gentle blogging for a long time. It goes back, honestly, to the start of the Lost and Found, even if I couldn’t articulate this idea back then. This fable has played out in my mind numerous times during things I’ve observed on the Internet.

The LFCA is two years old this week. How does the site relate to Gentle blogging? It levels the playing field. It makes sure that a new blogger with twenty readers has the chance to gather the same support as an older blogger with several hundred readers. Is it a perfect system? Of course not. Just because I post it doesn’t mean that people click over and just because they click over doesn’t mean that they leave words of support. But in my opinion, it’s worth my time five days a week to give it a shot.

I put it together because I want to take part in Gentle blogging. And this is my method. If you also want to take a stand and consciously commit to Gentle blogging, you will need to find your own or you could even get involved in LFCA. Click through on those links and leave words of support not because you get something out of it, but because you see another person with a need and you can fill it. Set aside one day a week to choose five links off the list and leave good thoughts. Think about what a difference it could make in another person’s life if everyone did this.

For those who complained about the conference, I challenge you to return next year. I challenge you to plan a meet-up for lunch time with other bloggers with similar interests. I challenge you to talk to one new blogger every hour, to sit down at a random table.

And to put my money where my mouth is (or something like that), in the spirit of Gentle blogging and a desire to bring people together, Lindsay, Lori, and I are planning a New York Meet-Up next summer the day after BlogHer 2010 solely for ALI (adoption/loss/infertility) bloggers. I’m stating this now before you make your tickets or hotel reservation or plan that vacation to other locales though you live in NY. Leave your ego at the door, and join your fellow ALI bloggers for a picnic lunch or other low-key, no-money, just good company meet-up in New York.

You can sign up for the email list and RSVP for the event now or any time up until June. At that point, we’ll need to have a sense of the number of people attending so we can pick a spot. This is separate from BlogHer and merely piggybacking on the event since people will be in town. But being held after BlogHer so those in the NY (or reasonable driving distance) area can participate without having to go to BlogHer. Combining efforts with the IVP (are you guys game)? Is there a face-to-face NY group?

The length of time and the amount of structure to it will depend on the number of people there, but the point is threefold: (1) to meet, (2) exchange ideas, and (3) strength our community. And that’s it. We may need even more people to help with the planning in the future if it grows into something larger than a picnic.

So, are you in? Let me know on the RSVP list as well as below in the comment section so others can see that you’re planning to attend. And your thoughts on Gentle vs. Wicked blogging.

And I’m well aware that my kumbayaness is cringe-inducing and this post pretty much cements the fact that I have rainbows and unicorns shitting out my ass. But despite my cru
deness, feelings are important to me. Another person’s feelings (unless there is a sound reason for my bitchiness) are important to me. It’s pretty much the most important thing that I hold carefully in my hands. We trust each other when we crash into one another. The least we can do is cushion the other person with a gentle–a Gentle–landing.

This isn’t really the true BlogHer wrap-up because I will post notes once I have those ready this week and when video goes up for the sessions I attended, I’ll link to them. But these are my final (I hold the right to say more) thoughts on the conference.

This year differed greatly from last year. Last year, I likened the conference to visiting Wonderland and then having to return home, knowing that the white rabbit and red queen were still going to be existing without you. This year, it was more like the spinning tea cup ride at Disney World. It’s fun–it’s absolutely fun–but it’s also chaotic and you can only catch snatches of things and it makes the world feel like you can’t take it all in. Everything is just spinning by you too quickly to be sure of things.

And that’s sort of how this conference felt.

It was fun, and I learned a lot. But it was exhausting and everything kept moving without down time unless you decided to sit something out. And I sort of have this approach to amusement parks too. I figure I’m finally there and I don’t want to miss anything. So instead of sitting things out and going back to the hotel to rest, I go on all the rides.

And I went on all the freakin’ rides at BlogHer.

I met hundreds of bloggers I read and hundreds more that I now will read. I went to five sessions–one from each track and a Geek Lab. I wrote posts and tweeted and updated my Facebook status and uploaded photos (sorry, Denise, not to Flickr yet). I went to parties this time…sort of. I collected swag this year. So much swag that I needed to get another suitcase to get it all home. It is mostly not for me–I have it separated out into multiple bags right now so I can pass it along to others. But still. I had meals with friends and saw celebrities (Paula Deen, Dave Lieberman, Tim Gunn!). I cried. A lot. I laughed. A lot. I got no sleep. I felt like my entire nervous system was inflamed by the time the conference ended.

There are people who bitch about BlogHer, who leave unhappy, but I really believe that with a conference that size, a lot of it is what you make of it. I went to a school with 40,000 undergraduates, and some people walked out saying it was a great school, and others walked out saying it was a terrible school. But when you are speaking about an enormous entity such as a school or a conference, I really think that a lot of it becomes what you make of it. Did you actively seek a change when you became unhappy? Did you ask for help? Did you wait for people to come to you, or did you walk up to every person you could and start a conversation?

Because we’re all writers there–no one is better than anyone else. And if you’re going to come with the attitude that you’re owed something–owed attention because you have a certain amount of readers or owed accolades for your writing, you’re going to leave disappointed. Because, as I’ve already said, we’re all writers. And everyone thinks their little blog is special. Instead, all that should be left at the lobby doors and people will get the most from the conference if they turn to everyone they meet–from the random person sitting next to them at a panel to the other woman washing her hands in the bathroom–and start a conversation. Ask them about their blog. Hopefully they will ask you about your blog. A conversation begins.

Was the conference more commercial this year? Certainly. There were more sponsors and there were more business-y people walking around, trying to promote their business while interacting with bloggers. Was it a little annoying? Yes. But again, it was avoidable. And I could also choose to try to engage the speaker as a fellow person rather than follow their agenda to tell me about their product by asking them questions about where they’re from or if they’ve ever been to Chicago. And, sometimes I just smiled to be polite and took their card and then moved on rather than eating up more time explaining that I’m a kosher vegetarian and while their custom jerky business sounds cool, it just isn’t for me.

I saw some pretty sucky attitude on some people, comment-worthy sucky attitude. And like I did with my big college, I took my big conference and I avoided that suckatude because it wasn’t worth getting upset about. I left the party or I shifted spots and I used my time to find the most kick-ass people in the world. I freakin’ met Kathy and Io and Emily. I got to see Cecily and Sarah again. I spent time with Alexa and Aurelia and Kate and Briar and Magpie and Julia. I got to see people from DC and my fellow BlogHer CEs and some of my favourite bloggers I met back when I did book publicity. I took Nora’s head around the conference and took pictures.

And you know what, that sucky attitude that I witnessed in person, I also witness it every freakin’ day in the blogosphere. It is not a problem with the conference; it is a problem with human beings. People who won’t help you out unless they think they can get something out of it, or who think they’re better, or who ignore you…that happens every place in life. And BlogHer is not immune to it.

But it is an amazing place to be. Before I left, a blogger (I will keep her anonymous in case she doesn’t want me to tell her words) leaned in and whispered in my ear, “you saved my life.” I went back up to the room and cried and cried. It was a complete catharsis that I couldn’t reach on my own because I was so damn tired. But she brought me there because she said the most important reason why I blog and why I read: because we are saving each other.

When we write the words out of our heart and take them off our chest so they can stop eating us alive, we’re saving ourselves. And when we comment on another person’s blog, letting them know that their words matter, we’re saving them. When we reach out and support another person, we are literally saving their life. And I’m not talking in the hypothetical sense. Humans cannot live without contact, without interaction. Blogging makes the world less lonely, the world less difficult.

It is that Irish proverb–two shorten the road. And carrying each other’s burdens simply by listening, by saying with our actions, “I care”–that is not just shortening the road. That is saving a soul.

That is why I go back to BlogHer and why I walk away each conference saying that I had an amazing time. Because I go in looking to connect with other humans–not fawn on them or hope that they read me too–and I connect with other humans. And I walk away feeling full from the experience.

Many years ago, Josh was one of the nominees at a major award show and we were at this shmancy cocktail party before the award ceremony began. Suddenly, I heard myself scream out, “that’s Judd Hirsch” and saw my finger pointing at the actor, Judd Hirsch. I seriously don’t know what got into me. Judd looked at me and continued walking. I mean, how does one respond to a person pointing at you with their mouth hanging open while they tell you who you are?

I did the same thing last year at BlogHer. The elevator doors were closing and I screamed out, “you’re Her Bad Mother” at Catherine Connors. Who gave me the same look Judd Hirsch gave me.

And apparently, my body wanted to do it one more time.

I was sitting by a door when it opened and it walked Paula Deen with her security detail. She smiled and waved and I shouted out, “you’re Paula Deen” and she said, “I am.” And she kept walking. But I followed. And I took pictures.

So uncool.

She is really an incredible performer. We haven’t made her recipes, so I can’t speak to the food. But she is a joy to watch. So funny, so charming. Very warm.

And then there was Tim Gunn. I didn’t wait in line to chat with him because…well…my wardrobe needs more help than one man can give it.

But he signed Deb’s shirt.

I met Liza (pronounced Liz-ah, not Lie-zah) FINALLY. She is a superconnector, bringing me together with so many friends. And she is my doppelganger. We literally switched places at two schools–crisscrossed our undergrad and grad spaces. And she is just so funny and cool and sweet and wonderful.

Devra, Sarah, and I like to take this picture at every conference. I look like Sarah’s child. The story of Sarah will take too long to place here, but I realize that how we know each other makes for a very good story so hopefully I will have it together by the Friday Roundup this week.

The last night also turned out to be the annual Venetian Night in Chicago on the water complete with fireworks.

While we were outside, I told Josh that I wanted to run back in and take a picture of the sign for the last time. But workmen were taking it down. Unassembling BlogHer. I thanked them for their hard work–the undoing must be just as tremendous as the doing. Josh whispered to me that if I hugged them, I would truly become a caricature of myself. So I refrained.

And then we went upstairs to pack. To sort the swag into bags to give most of it away. To collapse into bed.

It’s hard to update here because the Internet connections are terrible. Major fail, Sheraton. And I apologize for any type-os because it is loud and crazy and chaotic here and I’m finding myself becoming fried as the conference continues.

So I left off at last night. After lunch and the Op-Ed session (I still have to upload my notes from that), I went upstairs and got dressed because…I had to be ready for the keynote. You’ll see what I read below, but the night before I flew to Chicago, I decided to wear part of the costume. The bottom part.

So I grabbed the boots, grabbed a pair of stockings, and then went looking for the bottom part of the outfit which was the black garter contraption. I took apart three drawers, took the drawers out of the dresser to check if it had fallen over the back of a drawer, and finally found them in a random bag in my closet. Five years since I last wore them.

Eden Kennedy introducing the Community Keynote

Speaking at the podium

My head, huge on the television screen

Showing some garter action

The Community Keynote group

I read my piece at the community keynote and that video will be available soon online. You can read the edited version of the post below. And then we went to the cocktail party and met all these cool bloggers and even got a seated massage.

Red Headed Lefty and Me

The Dana Files and Me

Cecily and Dana

Me and Ask Moxie

I swung through some parties and I have to admit this—last year, I grabbed no swag. I didn’t even venture really into the Expo Hall and I turned down bags when they were offered. And this year, I started down this road and now (Io as my witness this morning), I have become a maniac. I went back to one place and got three versions of the same toy for Baby Fred. I took freakin’ Mary Kay make-up—I don’t even wear make-up. So I waited in line last night and got some bags of stuff (a tiara, which the ChickieNob is excited to wear). And then I got to the real stuff.

I got to meet Mommy Wants Vodka, Apron Strings for Emily, and Who Shot My Stork! Aunt Becky had to leave, but Emily and Io and I went out for dinner/dessert. It was such an amazing time. First of all, they’re hysterically funny. And I cried meeting Io (I got to meet Emily at lunch so I got all my tears over then). I mean, she’s Io! And she’s wonderful. And we had a great time.

Emily, Me, Io, and Becky

I got back to the hotel and collapsed and woke up early to have breakfast and I met Dave Lieberman in the hallway and had my picture taken with him. Io found me and we walked around the Expo Hall, taking more swag. And then dropped it off and went to a session that I thought would be about something else, but gave me more ideas along the line of group Kirtsying to get our posts into the general community. Give me a few days to gather my thoughts on it and get it going in mid-August.

Me and Dave

Lookey here, I’m signing my book this afternoon

Laurie Kingston and Me

But here is what I read for the community keynote…

The Community Keynote Piece:

Loss is inherent in infertility–the negative beta at the end of the cycle, diminishing hope, forgoing opportunities. Mixed in with the loss is the physical pain and the emotional embarrassment. The financial holes and constant anxiety. And, of course, shwanking off in public.

When my husband, Josh, would complain about the donation rooms, I would lift up my shirt to show him my bruised belly. How could he ever compare rubbing one out with nightly injections?

And then I took a field trip to the donation rooms and listened to the nurses discussing the viscosity of a semen sample on the other side of the thin wall and I had a newfound appreciation for my husband’s prowess to zone in on an image of breasts (always my own, always my own) and get the job done despite the andrologist crooning “Careless Whisper” in his office, three feet away.

On the morning of our first IUI, we drove to the clinic, bleary-eyed from lack of coffee and somewhat anxious to see if this next step would work. When he was called back to the room, he seemed a little surprised that I was coming with him.

“I think you wait here,” he said.

“I’m coming back for moral support,” I said to the nurse. “If that’s okay.”

“Fine,” the squat, German woman barked. She paused outside of tiny room that contained a barcalounger, magazine rack, television set, and a sink counter containing a sealed collection vial.

She looked at me suspiciously and reminded me three times in quick succession that in order for it to be a clean specimen, I could not use my mouth.

“I will not use my mouth,” I promised. “I’ll be very quiet. I won’t touch anything. I’ll just read one of the magazines.”

“No mouth,” she repeated a final time, picking up the sealed donation vial and slamming it down on the counter as a final reminder of her wrath should my lips creep close to anything that is currently under her domain.

And this is what babymaking at the clinic is like. Someone else is conducting your intimacy and someone else is setting the time. And frankly, someone else is doing the job. It can be sobering, stilling to think about how much this process is out of your hands, the wonder removed, the love vacuumed out of it in the quest for a clean specimen. But that was why I was there. I was taking back the porn.

“I don’t know if I can perform if you’re going to be watching,” my husband admitted.

“Oh, I’m not going to be watching,” I said.

And that is when I stripped off the oversized grey sweatshirt and wide-legged jeans to reveal a black merry widow-like contraption with garters and thigh-high black stockings peeking out over knee-high boots. I unhooked my barrette and let my hair tumble down past my shoulders. “I’m Hilde,” I breathed.

“Hilde?” my husband asked unsteadily. “Like your great uncle’s girlfriend?”

Which wasn’t the reaction I had been hoping for. I had sort of assumed that the outfit would cause immediate schwangage–that he’d have to dive for the collection cup in slow motion to catch the stream of semen shooting out just from the mere site of his wife parading in front of him in material that was black and shimmery and see-through.

“I’m Hilde,” I said, shaking my ass a bit in his face as I leaned over to check out the porn in the magazine rack. I should have gone for the slow reveal. “Perhaps we should get to know each other,” I murmured, trying to look at him through my lashes without getting a headache. “I have a lot of secrets.”

“Really, Hilde? Secrets,” Josh said, not really making any motions that would get us out of this room.

“Lots of secrets,” I moaned. “Here’s the first one. Why don’t you just get your donation vial ready and we can begin.”

“Mel,” he said gently. “I think you’re beautiful in that. Hot. I wish you’d actually wear something like that at home. But…I love you. I want to make this baby with you.”

For him, it wasn’t about what was lost. It wasn’t about everything that came before or even this moment itself. It was about looking forward, thinking about what we were creating together. It d
idn’t matter if it took place at home or in an office or in the single-stall Starbucks bathroom–the end result would be the same. Parenthood. A child.

That is how we tuned out the conversation happening on the other side of that door; the whore and the madonna, sitting on the floor, holding his knees just so I could feel connected in some way to the experience. My eyes averted, a quiet connection, a return to the continuous mantra chanted by the heart, “could this be our chance could this be our chance couldthisbeourchance”.

All to the tune of “Careless Whisper.”

At lunch time, a bunch of ALI bloggers got together in the lobby so both BlogHer people and Chicago people could see each other. We had Cecily, Julia, Emily, Aurelia, Kate, Kathy, Briar, Magpie, Alexa, and Me. Later on, Jenny, Amalah, and Gwen stopped by. It was so much fun and I loved getting to spend time with everyone. This is why I go to BlogHer—to get to see the people I read.

The Bloggess is also one of the people here with Nora’s head so…here, Nora, your head was at lunch too. And you thought the mozzarella salad was delicious.

Kathy

Briar

Emily and Alexa

The elusive Aurelia and Kathy

Alexa and Kate

Cecily and Julia

Cecily, Magpie, Julia

Briar, Cecily and Magpie

Magpie and Julia

Emily and Alexa

Alexa and Kate

Kathy and Me

Amalah

Amalah and Julia

Me and Jenny with Nora’s head

Jenny and Cecily

Cecily and Gwen

Oh, and I also met Rick Bayless who gave me an excellent tip on mellowing the taste of garlic (put peeled garlic clove in a small dish of water and microwave it for 45 seconds to blanch it before using). And I had my picture taken with Mrs. Potato Head because she’s Mrs. Potato Head.

And the ALL fairies just because the ChickieNob loves fairies. Perhaps not ones with hairy legs, but these two will have to do. Um…only the man had hairy legs. And that’s really the pot calling the kettle black if you saw my legs right now.

Oh, and I got the date and day of the week wrong. So mark Sunday the 9th of August 2010 for the ALI get together in New York City.