Say It Enough, You'll Start to Believe It
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My house exploded over the weekend. It is in serious need of some TLC so, naturally, my first inclination was to make an iMovie preview.
Because I firmly believe in the motivational power of procrastination.
So what about you? How do YOU like to avoid cleaning?
I love travelling, particularly international travelling. I love the adventure of it, the excitement of boarding a plane and not knowing what might happen. I find it terribly thrilling and if someone would pay me and my family to travel professionally I would do it in a heartbeat.
I do not love preparing to leave, though.
Inevitably, every time I plan to leave town and, more specifically, the country, I swing into major panic mode about three days before I leave. My plane departs for Tanzania on Friday so right about now is the perfect time to panic. I laid in bed until well after midnight last night thinking of all the things I needed to do. I should have gotten up and written them down because I’ve forgotten half of it this morning, which is making me feel more panicked.
Organization!
My children will probably eat a lot of junk food today and watch a lot of TV. That is okay. I need to get myself together and I will probably take something tonight to help me sleep so I don’t embark on this trip as a psycho zombie.
So while I go tear around my house like a rabid baboon on uppers (a psycho zombie baboon on uppers…I love good, solid imagery) why don’t you guys enjoy a few things that have brought joy to my heart and laughter to my soul.
My friend Jenni from Avodah Images took family pictures of us this weekend. She is so many shades of awesome I don’t know where to start. I love her heart and her humor and her talent. And I love these pictures. Yes, to answer your question, I did climb a tree in a dress. It was a delicate process and I am grateful to Jenni for not taking pictures while I shimmied my way up.
After we finished with the pictures, we joined the Keiter family for dinner at an amazing Greek Restaurant in Tarpon Springs. OPA! While there, they told us about the following video that has brought so much joy to my life I don’t really know how to describe it. I will never sing this song the right way again. Ever.
I hope Tuesday is kind to all of you. I’m off to clean and pack…and panic.
Oh my dear friends. I am about to share something with you that will make your day. It might even make your week. Heck, IT COULD VERY WELL MAKE YOUR YEAR!
I stumbled across this while working on another post and it was so good I decided it deserved a post of its own. There is no reason to hide this glory under a bushel basket. No reason at all. So I halted what I was working on and started a new post just for all of you.
Folks, this song runs through my head all. the. time. Every time I’m scared, I start humming this. I listened to this cassette tape endlessly as a kid. I’d put it in my neon pink and green boom box and jam out and this song was one of my favorites.
Like an old friend or a warm, fuzzy blanket it washes away fear. This song has saved me over the years and now? NOW I HAVE THIS!
I feel like I found a gold nugget.
Watch it…watch it until the very end.
You. Are. Welcome.
Let’s all join together in a moment of reverent silence shall we?
Aren’t you glad you stopped by today? Does anybody else sing this song when they’re scared? Has anybody else heard this song?!
For one more piece of awesome, listen to this. There’s no video but this was my other favorite song on that cassette. You know you all wish you had been as cool as me…
Normally I don’t jump on a lot of linkys because they intimidate the heck out of me, but I just adore the ladies at 5 Minutes for Mom and couldn’t resist partying with them this weekend. Especially because I get to party at home in my fat pants and without any make up.
However, there is currently a cold Margarita sitting right here next to me so this party’s about to start hoppin’!
This post is for all of you fellow partiers that are joining me from 5 Minutes for Mom. You can read a lot about me and my family on my About page, but I’ll add a bit here as well.
I’m Kelli and this is my blog. Obviously. I am a story teller and humor is both my defense mechanism as well as my outlet for simply enjoying this wild ride called life. The pages of this blog have evolved over the last four years as I’ve grown and matured as a mom, a wife, a writer and a friend. When you come here, I hope you laugh and walk away encouraged.
I try to keep things light-hearted around here, but every once in awhile life throws a curve ball and my posts become a little…heavy. Last summer, our family moved from St. Louis, a city we loved and adored, to Tampa, Florida. We love Tampa, we really do. It has a beach. Like an actual beach…not a patch of sand dumped in front of a pond.
But moving is hard and we still don’t feel settled. It feels like we are on the longest vacation ever in the history of all the world. But in the move we’ve found joy and laughter and a reignited passion for one another that I wouldn’t trade for anything else. We are being refined every single day.
I am homeschooling my kids this year. It’s been amazing. It may be the only year I do it, but I have been so grateful for the chance to gather my little ones under my wing and ride this wave of change together.
I am smack dab in the middle of writing a novel. It has the potential to be amazing. Or to totally bomb. I’m not sure, but I do know it’s a story that I’m supposed to tell and my characters are so engrained in who I am that it’s second nature to tell their stories.
My husband is extremely handsome. And that’s not an exaggeration – it’s a cold, hard fact.
I love Nutella. Like, maybe abnormally so. I would bathe in it. Is that weird? That’s weird isn’t it…
I love writing and blogging has been an amazing tool for me to expand myself as a person and a professional. Blogging has opened up a world of opportunity for me (some of it thanks to Janice and Susan who let me write for them on occasion and how grateful I am for it!). I have blogged from Austria, from Montreal and in three short weeks I have the amazing opportunity to travel to Tanzania on behalf of Compassion International.
I absolutely adore my job. Every day I’m in awe of what I get to do. Last night as my husband and I enjoyed a beautiful dinner on a palm tree lined street in downtown Tampa I proclaimed with delighted surprise, “I am an international writer. This is my dream job!”
And by God’s grace I get to do it primarily from my home where I can get up at a moment’s notice and play a rousing round of Pretty, Pretty Princess any time of the day. Because Lord knows I can’t resist my daughter’s huge puppy dog eyes.
It’s nice to meet you. Leave me a comment so I can hop on over to your place. Let’s party like it’s 1999 this weekend!
I set my alarm for 5:00 AM this morning. Go ahead. You can laugh. It’s funny.
I really thought I could handle it. I even went to bed at 9:45 last night. I felt very responsible when I turned the lamp off before the 10:00 hour. How grown up of me, right? But what seemed like mere moments after closing my eyes, the alarm on my phone start screaming in my ear.
5:00 AM?!
I don’t know what I was thinking.
Incidentally, I spent a lot of time trying to find the perfect alarm sound to wake me up. I listened to every option provided on my phone and I painstakingly chose the sound that was least offensive. It sounded like little fairies ringing bells, gentle and serene. When I chose it, I pictured myself leaping out of bed in song. Like a musical.
Good Mornin’. Good Moooornin’.
In this vision I tap danced through the house, happy and free as a lark. I don’t know how to tap dance, although I did take lessons a few years ago and had the time of my life. I should do that again…
But, oddly enough, when my alarm went off this morning, it didn’t sound like fairies ringing bells any more. IT SOUNDED LIKE THE DEVIL HIMSELF CLANGING SYMBOLS IN MY EAR.
It was angry and harsh and I wanted to punch someone, not sing.
Then I got back in bed.
“Is that your alarm to get up and work?” Lee asked. He wasn’t really interested in the answer so much as he just wanted to acknowledge the offensiveness of being awakened by evil bells at 5 in the morning.
I grunted in reply and promptly closed my eyes. For the next 37 minutes, my brain and my body warred against the morning. It went down something like this:
BRAIN: “Get up. You have a lot to do this week. If you don’t get up now you won’t have time to get anything done this morning.”
BODY: “Shut up.”
BRAIN: “Seriously, just get up. You will be fine if you get up and move around. You can have coffee. You won’t regret it, but you will regret staying in bed and not getting anything done.”
BODY: “Shut. Up.”
BRAIN: “Alright that’s it you lazy BEEP. Get up! Get up! GET! UP!”
BODY: *sitting up at squinting at the clock that reads 5:24* “Ten more minutes. Now shut up.”
BRAIN: “Check the clock. I think it’s been ten minutes. Check the clock. Seriously. Your window of peace and productivity is shrinking exponentially. Check the clock. CHECK IT!”
5:37.
Sighing, I rolled out of bed and landed with a thud on the floor. Stumbling to the kitchen, I noticed how beautiful and serene the house felt. Dark and quiet, patiently waiting for the hustle of energy to roar to life. I liked it. The peace of the moment made me happy.
It did not make me feel like singing, though. Or dancing.
If any of you need me later, I’ll be on the couch taking a nap…
While I’ve got you all captivated here with my amazing and deep words of wisdom and grace, I might as well show you a few pictures from our Easter weekend, don’t you think? Wouldn’t that make your day? You’re welcome.
We spent the weekend with my cousin, Sean (whose book I hope you all purchased and are impatiently awaiting its arrival) and his wife, Addie, and their two cuties. The huge waves at the beach Friday made for three hours of crazy fun for the kids.
Glow in the Dark Easter Egg Hunt. Too much fun.
Sloan and his pet fox...I mean, dog.
I hope you all had a Happy and Blessed Easter filled with love, laughter and lots of chocolate.
Once again I’ve rocked your world with a title that screams creativity, yo.
So I haven’t read the Hunger Games trilogy yet. And to answer your obvious question, I don’t really know why. It’s a combination of reasons, really.
You know…stuff like that.
To be honest, I’ve never understood the whole read the book, see the movies craze. I find it baffling. I loved the Twilight series, but haven’t seen a single one of the movies (though I did watch part of the first one on TV the other night…meh). I think Harry Potter is hands down the best series of books I have ever read, but I haven’t seen the last three or four movies.
Because the books are so amazing.
Seriously. There are very few films that have really done a great book justice. I hear the Hunger Games movie did a pretty good job, but most people agree, the book is better.
I’m the type of person that really loses herself in a book. I get immersed in the story so deeply that pulling myself back to reality can sometimes feel like a chore. When the story ends and I close the book, if it’s been a good book, sometimes I’ll sit and let myself wander through the world I just read about. I become a part of it. If a book is good enough, I will often feel a sense of loss when the story ends.
I felt that way for a week after I finished reading Harry Potter.
I don’t feel the same way about movies. They don’t incite my imagination the way a real, live book does. I need to feel the weight of the story in my hands. I need the fatigue of a late night reading to push my imagination just a step further. I need to read every word – every detail – to understand and appreciate the characters.
Movies are good, yes. But books are better.
I am trying to teach my kids that lesson. If there is a movie version of a particular book, I’m trying to read them the book first. We are currently reading The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, then I plan on showing them the movie. Sometimes, of course, this backfires. We read Dr. Doolittle earlier this year, then I showed them the Dr. Doolittle movie.
It sucked.
Movies can ruin books sometimes, too.
Another reason I’ve hesitated to read the Hunger Games is I’ve heard through the grapevine Twitter that it’s just a really poorly written book. One woman even posted a picture of a paragraph on page three of the first book and urged everyone to grab their red pens and have fun.
It was pretty bad.
I’m not a book snob by any stretch of the imagination. I don’t proclaim to be the goddess of grammar. Obviously. I’m pretty sure every single one of my blog posts boasts a glaring grammatical error. But I measure books by entirely different standards. I like to think that gives me a little depth as a person, you know?
No? Not really?
Whatever. Young adult fiction or not, a book still needs basic sentence structure. I trust that the story and plot of Hunger Games are so good that I could eventually overlook the poor writing, but I don’t know. It makes me a little nervous so I am avoiding altogether.
The issue of time is the biggest reason I’ve shied away from the trilogy, though. I can’t afford to not sleep over the next few weeks so I’m sticking to light, brainless nighttime reading – like PEOPLE magazine. Now there’s some reading to be proud of, folks.
So what about you? Have you read the Hunger Games books? Did you love them? Did you go to the movies this weekend dressed as a child warrior? It’s okay if you did – I won’t judge…much.
*wink, wink*
Nutella = The nectar of the gods.
I can’t seem to remember what day of the week it is. This has been a crazy, awesome, exhausting, amazing week full of friends, family and very little sleep.
I want to write something super funny that will keep you laughing. But I don’t feel funny right now. I’m happy, content, filled with joy but not feeling overly humorous. I am feeling sore, though, thanks in part to the FOUR vaccinations I received yesterday sandwiched in between two really tough workouts.
Why do I do these things to myself?
I don’t know.
I’d say it makes for good blog fodder but clearly it doesn’t. I did write an entire post on getting my shots but decided in the end that it wasn’t funny enough to post since I didn’t actually faint when I got them. I just sucked on a Dum Dum and laughed inappropriately to compensate for my terror of needles.
Today Thor gave me a free evaluation and training session at the gym. It was a sign on perk. He measured my body fat (like that’s not at all intrusive) and asked me about my sleep and eating habits.
I *might* have lied a little. But that’s just between you and me, m’kay?
I did make the mistake of telling him that my biggest struggle in working out is not pushing myself hard enough. He exercised vigilante justice on my laziness and was all, “I’m doing this to show you what you’re capable of.” So I kicked him in the shins.
No I didn’t.
That would have made for a cool blog post.
Between the shots and the evil overlord’s (yes, I know I just called him Thor but I like to mix metaphors every once in awhile to keep you on your toes) torture session I can’t lift my left arm above my waist. I do have a rather large bump at the top of my arm, though, which looks kinda cool from a certain angle.
From other angles it just looks weird.
I need to take my typhoid medication tonight. I didn’t know what typhoid was until I googled it. All I could think of was Little House on the Prairie and images of being packed in ice came to mind. I’d rather not get typhoid. It sounds awful.
Our friend Sarah is visiting this week on Spring Break with one of her friends. The nicest two college girls I have ever known in all my existence are staying in my home, playing with my children and making me feel young again. I can’t tell you how much it warms my heart to have them here.
The twelve pound jar of Nutella is back. I did NOT tell evil overlord Thor about the Nutella. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. It might kill me, but Thor and his oversize muscles will be safe and I will die happy so mum’s the word. We actually dropped the can the night after we got it and it was so heavy that a hole puntured right in the side. Our first reaction? SAVE THE NUTELLA!
Don’t worry, no Nutella was lost and the jar now sports a rather radical looking bandage in the form of painter’s tape.
I’m thinking I need to start cooking with Nutella. Maybe then I’ll finally have something to Pin on Pinterest.
I haven’t logged onto Pinterest in over a month. Commence with cyber-stoning NOW.
Tomorrow we have to take the kids to the Post Office to have their Passports renewed. We’re trying to decide which one of them we like the most so we don’t dip into that child’s college fund to pay for it. It’s a toss up on which one we’ll choose.
I’m just kidding. We don’t play favorites.
Most days, anyway.
Have I mentioned that this has been an extra fabulous week?
Too bad it hasn’t produced stellar blog posts, eh?
*sigh*
Tell me about your week. What’s made YOU laugh? Do you want to compensate for my lack of funny by sharing something extra humorous? Anybody? Anybody?
Bueller?
I joined a gym last Friday – hence the ultra-creative title of this here blog post. It was time. I held off joining a gym for eight months because I wanted to see if I could do it. I wanted to see if I could save money and be disciplined and work out on my own at home.
Turns out I’m a total wimp when it comes to exercise. While my husband morphs into He-Man before my very eyes with nothing but a few barbells and shear determination, I have turned into a cream puff. Not cool.
Friday night was my first workout and it was…interesting. I chalked it up to being Friday evening, but I felt a bit like I’d stepped into a meat locker. I’m used to working out with all the other smokin’ hot minivan moms. Gym time is social time. We laugh, we chat, we sweat off all our stress. Sure there are a few bumpy muscle men milling about, but mostly we rule the proverbial roost.
But I was in the minority Friday night. It was mostly men in muscle shirts grunting and gabbing while us few moms walked among their smelliness trying to look as interested in the weights as they were.
So last night I went back, assuming that there would be a little less testosterone and a little more estrogen to help me in my journey toward total fitness AWESOME. (Incidentally, my friend Melissa has labeled her spring fitness craze “Operation Badass,” which I just think is the greatest title evah.)
Tonight was worse! I kept wondering where all of the other minivan moms were. And then I noticed a packed Zumba class and realized, “Aaahhh…there they are. They all know better.”
Clearly I’m a newbie.
So I powered through my workout and as I did, I made a few observations about the male species – particularly those who fall under the category of “worker outers.”
There are six types of men who frequent a fitness facility. Most men are going to fall into one of these six categories if they work out on a regular basis. This is a clearly comprehensive list based solely on scientific research. *eye roll*
The Grunters:
The Grunters are a particular group of fitness buffs who enjoy weight training for the ultimate benefit it brings to their overall health. While the Grunter may be pleased with his appearance as he curls his 50 pound dumbells, he is more than likely just happy to work out as a general way of life. Working out makes him feel healthy and confident.
The Grunter lifts heavy weights and emits low grunting sounds with each repetition, though he tries to keep himself under control. Minivan moms can appreciate his dedication and his willingness to not give in to the obnoxious.
The Groaners:
The Groaners are one step above the Grunters. They, too, love the physical benefits of working out, but they take more pride in their appearance. They watch their muscles contract intently with each curl and they make it a point to let everyone around them know they are are lifting seriously heavy weight.
The Groaner is known to drop his weights when he’s finished lifting for dramatic effect. The heavier the weight, the more the floor shakes, the more awesome he must be.
The Growlers:
The Growler dives across the line of annoying and lands squarely in the obnoxious. Growlers emit long, low sounds that sound an awful lot like child birth, thus leading minivan moms to cringe and make a hasty escape. A Growler typically sports a tatoo of a flame or something equally as radical on his calf or chest and he likes to stand up and applaud for himself when a particularly grueling work out is complete.
The Growler is often found flexing his muscles in the mirror at the end of a long work out.
The Musketeers:
The Musketeers travel in packs of two or three. They like to cheer each other on and shout things like, “C’Mon, Bro, you got this!” and “One more, Dude. Just one more. C’Mon, I know you got one more in ya!” Sometimes they even smack each other on the butt in celebration of a job well done. Musketters are particularly fun to listen to, as they have lively stories to share in between sets. I enjoy Musketeers.
The Hover-ers:
I do not enjoy the Hover-er. This is the bulgy men who stands over you as you use the chest press machine. When you stop to rest between sets, he takes a few steps closer and leans in. “You done with this machine?” he asks and when you shake your head no the Hover-er will step back and cross his arms, clearly annoyed with your lack of done-ness. You will have no choice but to relinquish your machine to him…despite the fact that you’re surrounded by five other machines that work the same muscle group.
Hover-ers are probably the same people who ride your tail on the highway if you’re not going a minimum of 15 miles over the speed limit.
The Guppies:
The Guppie comes to the gym in his work clothes, his tie slightly loosened. He walks in with cell pressed to ear and a fancy gym bag slung over his shoulder. The Guppie will come out a few minutes later in a nicely pressed, coordinated work out outfit. His shoes are brightly colored and his hair is neatly coiffed. He still has his phone and will shoot off clearly important texts in between sets. When using the free weights, The Guppie will frequently stare at himself in the mirror. He’s known to fix his hair throughout his work out.
So what do you think – Maybe it’s time I looked into Zumba, eh?
My first car looked like this, only dented and rusty.
I learned to drive on a minivan. A maroon Nissan Quest to be exact. My mom pumped the invisible pedal in the driver’s seat as I quickly and um…haphazardly? navigated the streets of St. Louis. I was admittedly not a natural behind the wheel. I lacked spacial awareness. I can remember ducking more than once when I was absolutely positive the car on the other side of the road was headed straight for me. Turns out I was the one riding the center line a bit…
The weekend after I got my license I hit a parked car.
Yeah.
One particular afternoon, as I drove that sexy beast of a minivan alone (she had a sun roof, you know. *insert sexy growl here*) I zipped down the back stretch of Strecker Rd., the radio blasting the wicked awesome tunes of Green Day and The Dave Matthews Band, and I noticed a sign on the right side of the road coming up dangerously close. I leaned forward over the wheel, staring intently at the sign, wondering why on Earth it was set so close to the road when…
BAM!
I nailed the sign, the sexy beast rocked, and I panicked. I screeched into the parking lot of a nearby school and jumped out of the car to survey the damage. Nothing. I’d hit the sign with my rear view mirror. I popped the mirror back into place and headed home, determined to stay a little further away from the shoulder.
When I pulled into the garage, I was still shaking. I came in too fast and hit the garbage cans, crushing them.
Maybe I wasn’t quite ready for a license? I definitely wasn’t ready to navigate the sexy beast around town, that’s for sure.
Incidentally, I’m pretty sure my exact words after I hit the garbage can were, “I hate this stupid van. I’m never going to drive one of these again. I’m gonna be the mom with the sporty car when I have kids.”
Mmmmm….What would my sixteen year old self think if she saw me now? Driving a Nissan Quest. Midnight black, of course, because black is HAWT.
But I digress.
Shortly after the run-in with the inanimate objects, my dad came home with a car just for me. It was a rusty, dumpy Honda CRX. A mercifully smaller car which ultimately became my first love. I named her Stella.
Every morning I jumped into Stella and revved her up, listening to her whine and moan against the frigid St. Louis winter air. The heater never really worked properly and the car trembled something terrible if you hit 55 miles per hour, but boy did she have character.
I loved Stella for a lot of different reasons. First and foremost, she wasn’t a minivan. Ahem. Stella was just kind of quirky and fun. I felt like I made a statement when I drove to school. The statement was here I am. I have a car. It’s a piece of S*%$ but it’s mine and look at all the flecks of rust on her smooth white exterior.
I dunno. I just loved that car.
Until someone ran a red light my junior year as I turned left and totaled sweet Stella leaving me with whip lash and supreme sadness over the loss of My Precious. From there I had other cars, all of which had their own endearing qualities, but none quite as charming as Stella, my rusty, dumpy CRX.
My current (smokin’ hot) minivan is running a close second, though, what with all her scratches, stains and quirks. She’s paid for, is still chugging along and only has a few Tats at his point (i.e. rust marks) but will likely develop more “character” as time goes on. Gone are the days when I jam out to Green Day, Dave Matthews or, really, anyone grown up. My car rocks to the beat of KidzBop, which makes her even more endearing in an odd and sad little way.
And I’ve yet to hit a road sign OR a parked car in her.
Go. Me.
What about you? What was your first car like? Did you name it? And more importantly, are you today driving the car you thought you’d be driving when you were sixteen?
Do you like that totally original and inspired title I just came up with? Are you impressed?
Hmmm?
It’s not that original?
Oh…
Um…
Well how about this for originality? I’m tired. Like tired to my bones. I never quite caught up on sleep since my weekend at Blissdom and to cap it off I have been coughing like a chain smoker for six weeks now.
SIX WEEKS.
Which means that unless I’ve taken hearty doses of NyQuil or Codeine-laced cough syrup I haven’t been sleeping. So tonight I took drastic measures and resorted to following an old wives tale. What did I do? I cut an onion and set it out on the counter. Apparently it’s supposed to attract all the bacteria and germs in the house.
People of the world, I haven’t coughed in two hours! TWO HOURS!
I’m leaning more toward this being psychological manipulation but whatevah! Mama’s gonna sleep well tonight…and reek tomorrow.
So…back to my clever title.
I met so many wonderful, lovely people at Blissdom and gleaned a whole new list of blogs to add to my list. I thought I’d share some of them with you today. (Note-this list is not comprehesive and is in no way meant to leave anyone out. If we met and I don’t include you on this list, I sincerely apologize).
So without further ado…I bid you follow these lovely bloggers.
Rachel at A Southern Fairytale – Rachel and I only met for a brief moment but since returning she’s made me laugh out loud via Twitter. Plus, well, her photography will make you want to cry…and eat. Girl can cook. She’s super fun. You should follow her.
Julie at Eyes Full of Pretty – Julie was my sweet roomate. I met her via Twitter, which really, if you think about it, has all the potential of a really bad horror movie. But Julie was lovely and not at all scary or strange. I quite enjoyed her company.
Anne at The Modern Mrs. Darcy – First of all, I love her blog title. It makes me smile. And smiling makes me happy. Ergo, Anne makes me happy. See how that works?
Laura at In the Backyard – Pretty much the nicest and kindest person ever. And she has a book coming out soon – Spirit Led Parenting: From Fear to Freedom in Baby’s First Year. Awesome much?
Megan at Sorta Crunchy – Megan has the most beautiful smile and was such a sweet and gentle encourager. And she just so happens to be Laura’s co-author on the upcoming book.
Julie from Mabel’s Labels – Hilarious. Seriously, Julie is a party. And she has six kids, which makes her extra cool. She made certain I got my photo taken with Joe Jonas. So…I did, with her of course.
Tsh from Simple Mom – I’ve read Simple Mom off an on for over a year now so it was fun to meet Tsh in real life. Her voice was exactly as I imagined it would be. Sweet with the hint of a smile behind every word. I also got to attend the session she led, which was one of my favorites. Plus, really…how can you not like someone who doesn’t possess a vowel?
Keely Scott – I’ve been drooling over Keely’s photos online for several years now. It was so fun to sit with her a bit at Blissdom and get to know her. She is funny. Not just funny ha-ha, either. Like funny-guffaw. I can’t wait to travel with her in a couple of months.
Jeff Goins from Goins Writer – I told you about him earlier. He was so inpiring and natural and funny. I really enjoyed his session and talking with him afterward.
Laura from Hollywood Housewife – Her business card looks like a cassette tape. She’s cool. End of story.
Really, this list could probably go on and on, but those were the meetings that stood out in my mind. I look forward to getting to know these women (and man) more and more through the lovely art of blog stalking. I’m good at it. I’m like the phantom blog reader.
It’s like I’m not even here…
Go forth with thy weekend. Read blogs and be merry!
I’m a dork…
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