I don’t often do any sort of recap of the conferences I attend, but, before I go on and on tomorrow about the hilarity of my journey to the Big Easy, I wanted to pause to mention, if only a small bit, a few of the amazing moments that changed me there. Because this time, it was different.

Saying goodbye in the lobby at 5am is always messy, snotty and tear soaked.

It’s like you’re back at sleep away camp, squeezing your best friends around the final campfire, promising to write every day.

Only now, we’re mostly all hungover and smell like Bourbon street (read: spilled beer and human waste).

But, it doesn’t make it any less special.

In fact, it was more special. Because unlike every other conference, where I duck out of the chaos, completely anxious and overwhelmed, and hide out among the cities sites and restaurants, I stayed in, and met and became friends with the most amazing, life changing (yeah, gushiest fucking word ever, but I am owning this shit, y’all) women ever.

Speaking along side Jenny and Heather was bliss, but it was nothing compared to the pre-panel moments stolen hiding out in the lactation lounge, laughing about natural disasters and the market value of fresh muppet skin.

Dinner with Allison, Meg, Erin, Maggie, Susan, and Maile.

Indulgences in the private wine room of a one, Chef John Besh, with Helen Jane, Jessi, Rachel, Elise and the lovely Kim.

Embracing over cocktail hour and the hallways with the women who I have previously missed meeting by mere seconds… Aimee, Kristen, Laura (absolute brilliance.), Jenny, Rachael and Susan.

And once again connecting with the women (and men) I could sit and listen to for hours…Stephanie, Neil, Pamela, Leah, Renee, Pauline, and Roxanna.

And Wendi Aarons. Just, yes. Her.

So many more. Especially everyone who was kind enough to understand that my socially awkward, panic attack face, closely resembles a mean face, even though I’m not mad at all.  Just weird.   It’s totally not my fault, I know nothing of biology or sciene, it’s just the hand I was dealt.

I could list these women for hours if it wasn’t for these pesky children ransacking my luggage for gifts, only to come up empty, save for tampons and fistfuls of spanx.

They look disappointed. Children have no creativity these days.

Pssst. The presents are in my purse.

Don’t ask how I got all the beads.

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