The year we first had the Blathering, and I got to know the 17 amazing women that showed up in my backyard, I was just happy that no one killed me and ate me, and that everyone got along so well and I don’t think I quite realized what an amazing thing we had cooked up between us, this idea that one day we were reading these words we all send out into the world and the next day we were all together and laughing and drinking wine and getting to know each other in living color, right here in real life.
And the next year we had the Blathering, I felt like we became real friends. I didn’t know everyone as well as I do now, still, but the fact that many of the same people who came to Sacramento showed up all over again and that when we said “Let’s do this again” people bought plane tickets and got on a plane and showed up, that meant the world to me. And that was the year we became friends. Not friends in the computer or friends on Twitter but just real plain honest to goodness would pick you up from the airport when you travel by yourself with two kids and your flight gets canceled at 10 o’clock at night friends.
And this is going to sound weird, and I don’t mean it to sound weird, and I’m married and all that, so don’t mis read me, but this Blathering? This was the year that I fell smack down butt crazy 100% percent in love with my friends, those once upon time strangers in the internet, and I’ve just never felt so loved back by people that I too am so crazy about, and there’s no words for how that makes you feel. Because the truth is that these people ,these women I love, they just plain make me better, and not everyone in life does that for you. When I am with these women I never feel fat. I never feel ugly. I never feel boring or not good enough or uncool. I feel beautiful and smart and funny and appreciated and amazing and loved, and there’s something about being in a room filled with people beaming that feeling right back at you that gives you something better than all the tequila shots in all the land. It is an amazing gift.
Sometimes the Blathering can be a little bit stressful because there are so many people who come that you cannot spend enough time with all the people you want to get to know. I didn’t have enough time with so many people. All weekend it felt like a whirlwind, and I always try to at least talk a little bit to every person but I am worried sometimes that I come across as snooty or bitchy and I promise, I am just overwhelmed and a little shy, and I am worried about my decorations and the food and forcing myself on people who don’t care that much about talking to me, and I do wish I had ten times the amount of time to sit down across from that person whose blog I love and talk to her in person and to tell her how much her posts on kale and bad burritos make me laugh or how much I love her haircut or her daughter’s name, but there just simply is not enough time.
But then I realized that maybe this is the true point of the Blathering – I have my ladies, I do. I have found my people, my 10 PM airport picker uppers. And I met so many more people this weekend that I adored and I am totally going to also make them pick me up at the airport someday at 10 PM. But also this year all the people I barely got to to talk to, most of them were people having their first Blathering ever, just like me three years ago, and those people found people and then spent their weekend together figuring out that not only would people not kill them and eat them, but that just maybe they too had found Their People, and those little groups finding each other, those pictures captioned “my ladies”, the shared hotel rooms and the tweets back and forth to new lifelong friends, that’s the real magic of the Blathering right there, and even though I am maybe not in every single one of those groups, I am so glad that this crazy thing we started three years ago is not only wonderful for me, has not only brought me best ladies and new friends, but is bringing that same thing to other people now.
Because truthfully everyone should some day get to feel the way these ladies, these platonic loves of my lives, my best girls, everyone should get to feel the way they make me feel. They laugh at my jokes. They make me lasagna and car trifle. They tell me how much it means to them when I write about Down syndrome. They tell me I send the best text messages of anyone in the world. They hug me goodbye even though I have the flu. They drive me home when I get sick and take me the airport at 6 am. They find me from across the room and they tell other people “See why I’m friends with these people?” and they tell me they love my shoes and they agree with my stance on cake balls (decidedly anti) and they inspire me with their parenting and they pull over for the 5th time when I have to go the bathroom again and they cry at my sad stories and they laugh at my funny ones and they tell me unbloggable stories about wooden vaginas and and they poke me when I am putting on eyeliner and they stand with me in the hallway when I need a little time out and they get in the shower with me when I can’t figure out how to turn on the hot water and they tell me they love my living room redecoration and they hang my crazy garlands from way high up on the ceiling and when you feel love like that beamed at you all weekend with the power of a thousand burning suns, you just can’t help it. All that love just plain makes you better, and multiplied times the power of 50 and then the power of the internet and then the power of queso plus the power of sequined cowboy hats, well, pretty soon you’ve just spent a weekend having pretty much very best time of your entire life.
So thank you, ladies. All ya’ll mean the world to me.
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