We Came. We Saw. We peed on territory...
We're back! We did it. We're exhausted. We're Rock Stars.
A synopsis of this weekend:
"Blah blah blahBlogmommmymommymommymommyblogblogblogBlah blah blah mommmymommymommymommyblogblogblogblogblogblogBlah blah blahblogblogblogblogblogblogBlah blah blahmommmymommymommymommy
blogblogblogBlah blah blahblogblogblogblogblogblogBlah blah mommmymommymommymommyblahblogblogblogblogblogblogblogblogblog"
Blah blah Communications.
Blah blah Online Communities.
Blah blah Facebook.
Blah blah Constructed Self.
Blah Blah. More wine please.
Blah Blah. I'll have a margarita
Blah Blah. Issmybirfday. I's celebratin...
Blah Blah. I need coffee.
Forgive me if I cannot string together a coherent thought in this here post. But suffice it to say for now, I think that between us Her Bad Mother , Bub and Pie , m'old pal Paula and I now have enough for a very thick book on the subject of women, mothers and blogging (along with all of you who have written those fabulous metaposts). And, in the sage words of HBM, we have taken that first vital step towards "peeing on territory." Which, in many ways, is what all this academic conferencing tends to be about. We have descended on Kentucky and one chunk of the Communications Research Profession, left our stinky mark, and promptly quit town.
(and a heartfelt Thank You to all those of you who contributed to this work. A post on the future of BlogRhet to come--but we might well be enlisting any willing bloggers to help us build on this project)
Other highlights that are sure to make for some interesting blogfodder here and elsewhere (eventually illustrated with a smattering of the one billion photos HBM took, I hope):
Swarms, and I mean literally swarms of Mary Kay Ladies who went around Louisville Downtown in well-groomed packs as they attended their Annual Conventions. Imagine groups of 10-15 women, all in black suits with red or pink accessories (including the odd hot pink feather boa) and enormous make-up totes, all stomping around town in stilettos in search of umbrella drinks and bar snacks after a long day of listening to inspirational speakers. One nice lady rode with us on the elevator and boy she knew how to work it. We were very nearly whisked up to her room for complete makeovers (the disappointment on HBM and Paula's face when we couldn't swing it.....tragic....) We did converse with the Mary Kay Lady long enough though to provide a quick explanation of what a blog was and why she should totally think about getting one for her Mary Kay Marketing..... She seemed intrigued. You heard it here first folks!
Swarms, and I mean literally swarms of Hard Core Mulletted Bow Archers attending the National Field Archery Association, stalking about town with bows slung over their backs and quivers slotted casually into their back pockets (or their children's strollers). And this at the very same convention center as the Mary Kay Ladies. It was the stuff that arsy academics interested in the performativity of gender norms dream of. It was also highly entertaining. The indoor archery competition--which, let's face it, could have gone horribly horribly wrong as about 200 people competed at one time in an enclosed space--functioned like a well-oiled machine. Props to indoor archers and the men and women who risk their lives to let them compete...
A very fun way to spend one's 36th birthday (and thanks soooo much to all those of you who emailed me. That alone is worth joining Maya's Mom for, m'ladies. They send nice little reminders to your online pals: "Today is Joy's Birthday! Tell her Happy Birthday! Do it! DO IT YOU HEARTLESS BITCH!!!! Or something along those lines....)
Pics to come folks. Pics to come....
Bub and Pie's post captures the talkingtalkingtalking aspect perfectly. And she's inspired me to add this postscript.
Only one thing is better than spending several days away from home with women you hugely admire, and that is Coming Home. A belated birthday greeting, handdrawn cards, framed art by Big Boy, cards and gifts from friends and family, a sparklingly clean house and laundry all done and put away, fireplace aglow (God. I am almost nauseating myself here, but it's the God's Honest Truth!)
Baby Boy made a great (and noisy) display of demonstrating how he had missed The Boobs, and Big Boy was a frenzy of giddy excitement galloping around me and constantly grabbing my hand to plant sloppy kisses on it. (Mamma, I missed you!!!!1).
And my dear Old Man grinning and pouring me a fat glass of Cab Sav, and informing me that three nights of being solo with Baby Boy had made him feel like he "now knew the operator's manual much much better..."