As if the blisters weren't enough, my concentration on work is totally diverted to the many accounts of sessions, keynotes and wacked-out drunkenness. I'm glued to Flickr and all the blogs I added to my Google Reader this morning.
Even after our contest to lure in other mamas who might want to braid hair and giggle into the wee hours with us, my roomie and I were very happy to settle into our swank room at the Dub together. Even if (ahem) we didn't surrender all inhibitions.
I was delirious to reunite with City Mama and nearly get booted from a session (and a cab) with my Strollerderby partners in crime, Redsy and Kelly. And swagalicious Sarah and I talked on and on about everything from placentas to potty training over pasta (mmmm).
I found a soul-sister in Charlene, laughed my ass off with Susan (but not at her shoes...oh for the pink suede shoes), talked lots of shop and showed off lil boo pics with Self-Made Mom, loved up the ladies from SV Moms Blog and Chicago Moms Blog, was thrilled to meet Glennia, absorb a bit of Susie Bright's deliciousness, listen to Her Bad Mother talk sense in several sessions and wish that I had bad-ass braids like Ariel Meadow Stallings.
And then there was Jillian Michaels. For the love of fitness and fanfuckingtastic hot laydayyyys, lunch and an interview with Jillian Michaels. Much, much more on my new best friend to follow. But do know that Bruce is half jealous and half eating up every single Jillian story I've told him. Not to worry, though, Jillian stories are full of the good fats).
I've no doubt left out someone wonderful, but I won't worry about that now. Oh no, there are too many baby boy kisses waiting for mama in the next room. If I can wrestle the seizure duckie out of his hand, that is.