We drove together, singing randomly along to the radio and the music on the iPad, passing through sudden showers and miles of nothing.
The last time we had run off together had been far too long.
The freedom of just a bag each- no toys, no incessant commentary on the cars driving past “Faster mommy, faster!” and the freedom to play whatever we wanted without worrying about volume or language.
Hours on Instagram and Twitter brought light to other voyages across the desert- chance meetings at lunch breaks, car accidents, conversations about who had left and who was still waiting.
But we were gone.
Since the moment I had wanted to buy a ticket for Bloggy Boot Camp Las Vegas Mr. Wonder and I had agreed to use it as a little vacation and a chance to spend some time together.
Not all of the other bloggers I know got this, cherishing the chance to be with girl friends for the weekend and planning elaborate trips.
I had three items on my list.
- Go to Bloggy Boot Camp
- Sleep In.
- Meet Tiffany Romero, who lives about 45 minute away from me but we have never gone to the same event together.
Amazingly, I did all of those things, settling into my not-so-soft bed with my partner and laughing as I read the exploits of other on Twitter and, for some, how hung over they ended up.
Of course, many other items made it onto that list.
- Tummy ache.
- Going to a movie in another state and still getting a call on my cell phone.
- Meeting several new ladies for the SoCal Lady Bloggers group.
- Hand cramps from all of the note taking.
- Quality time with the spouse.
- Being told several times how happy someone was that SoCal Lady Bloggers exists.
- Running out of business cards.
- Getting an idea of how I want to use my blog to make money.
- Learning how to actually pitch a company instead of reading about what should be in your medica kit.
- Getting my point validated that you should answer PR emails.
- and much more…
I’ve only been to two conferences, BlogHer ’11 and BBC Vegas.
I can honestly say I got more out of Bloggy Boot Camp than I did at BlogHer- one day making a bigger impact than three.
Not necessarily swag, since I left my accommodating bro in San Diego with enough snacks to keep them, um, snacking for several days.
Not necessarily new contacts- the giant wad of BlogHer cards towers over my BBC ones.
But I learned more. I learned honest advice from people who were willing to share how they do it and tell those secrets they only share with friends.
The honest advice that dealt with what needs to be important, how you can balance life (or how you shouldn’t try) and what to hold on to, what to let go.
The evening after, with my husband, I had to restrain myself from pouring out the random tidbits I had gleaned, stuck in my brain and elaborated in my yellow composition book, until finally I caved and it trickled out like sand through fingers.
He patiently kept eating his dinner and let me talk as I tried to find anything else to talk about, but my brain was just too full. Eventually, it became commentary about patrons around us and that drunk couple that had decided we cut in line and complained about it.
He had known what he was getting into this trip- the tweeting, the meetups, the having to come to the wine party afterwards and make small talk with many ladies just so I could feel like, for a moments, my two worlds connected.
He knew that as important as it was for him to be there, it was just as important for me to ‘ meet my fans’ as he jokingly called it. To be with my people, finally, again.
My husband doesn’t use social media at all, and ‘gets’ blogging just enough to understand it’s important to me and why I love doing it.
And enough to be proud of me that I do it.
The next day I left the notebook in my bag as we watched old CSI’s, gambled, caught the movie ‘Taken 2′ (his choice) and enjoyed milkshakes in the room. The blogging had taken up time and, just like at home, it was his turn to be the focus of my attention.
I had to take that day off to wrap my brain around what I had just learned and experienced, and to get ready for my next trip.
But that, is another story.
…to be continued…