When the astronauts come back into the atmostphere there is all this bumping around and bouncing of molecular activity in the re-entry stage. It's much the same when returning from a wickedly fun trip where I laughed too much (and loudly - some of you know what I'm talking about), licked too often (and laciviously - some of the pictures may be mistaken for porn), and stayed out too late (and lied about it - "I think I came in at 1:00 a.m., Becky. Umm... wait. Maybe it was 2:00.")
Coming home to real life has that burning sensation to it where the people who know you well tell you to stop name-dropping and get back to being the momma of the house. It's a little deflating and yet good for me at the same time.
My deflation happened early on at BlogHer where my friend, Becky, and I went to the bar as soon as we got there where I was met with this question:
Oh, hi! Are you here with Club Mom?
Ohhhh.... (turning slowly away from me and letting the other women know that I am a leper and should NOT be touched.)
That's ok, though. She more than made up for it when I heard someone beckon me to their table where she was sitting when this other person bellowed "Mocha!" That must have jogged her brain that she had, perhaps, heard of me from somewhere because she squealed, "Ohmygod, you're Mocha? You're MOCHA?" I'm too gracious to have shoved it back in her face so I smiled and hugged her and got leprosy goodness all over her shirt and held pleasant conversation with her and the other women there.
It made it a little better when Becky, who laughed with me over this first introduction in the bar, went back to where Club Mom was having their pre-conference soiree to drop off her empty wine glass at the bar said, "It's ok. They're all still in there and I dropped a really stinky fart and left it there just for you. Now, let's go somewhere else."
This? This is why she's my best friend.
My photos are being held hostage in my camera and won't be uploaded until I can get Jayne fixed (AGAIN. AGAIN! What a shit she's being to me.) but I will flickrize them soon.
My favorite question and the one which I answered differently every time came in two forms. Either it was "Are you a mommyblogger?" or "What kind of blog do you write?"
It's a personal blog, I guess. What I mean to say is that I puke on the page and people somehow respond to it.
There was no shortage of stimulating and intellectual conversation with the people I met. I don't say "women" because I spoke with plenty of men as well. Discussions of what makes a community and how I identify myself as a person of color brought about many more complex issues which my brain is currently exploring. Having this conversation with Karen and Alice prompted me to confess that when I write about issues of race there are often a great deal of comments because this is a safe place. Sometimes, that confuses me because I wonder how many people have multicultural experiences in their own life and that there is a sense of burden on my part to represent my views in an honorable way. Then, I told them that I'm sure there are better places where people write more fluidly on the topic. Alice eloquently stated, "Oh. You're their practice Black person."
I'm still giggling about that.
Since I do so love to be in a crowd and have never met a stranger, hopping from group to group during social time was a veritable feast for me. Cliques and I don't go together well and it's my mission in life to break into each one, leave a piece of myself, and move on to learn about other people. That, to me, was the beauty of being in this space with these fantastic people.
I didn't get caught up in the mommyblogger-vs.-everyone-else-drama because let's face it: I have enough drama to deal with in my real life that I don't need to take on virtual ones.
I tried pulling the shy people into the conversation as much as I could because I'm the complacent, quintessential middle child because, let's face it: I want everyone to get along and have a great time.
I let my mouth take over and just spill things out that I can't put back in because, let's face it, it is fun to watch the reaction from other people.
To wit: When conversing with Heather about people not coming up to her the first day out of their own fear, I was comforted by her frankness.
Me: What? You mean they are afraid? Let me ask you this: Do you put your pants on one leg at a time?
Me: Do you take a shit, too?
Heather: Yeah. And it stinks!
Re-entry burn may not be so hard after all. I'll just ask everyone about pooping today and it'll be like I never left San Jose.