Take everything I thought I knew about blogging. Shake well. Throw into the air. Now reassemble.

My favorite part of this weekend was the assortment of people I met. Not everyone comes to blogging for the same reasons, with the same level of obsession, with the same skills, or with the same goals.

I really thought that in my daily blog reading I had met or read a reasonable sampling of personal bloggers out there. Boy was I wrong.

I met women who blog only occasionally but wanted to come to see what all the fuss was about.

… women who aggressively use their blogs as tools in the fight for their beliefs or to turn against their enemies.

… women who use their blogs either as their business or in support of their business.

… women who form communities large and small with their blogs.

… women who quietly write their stories and find support they never knew existed.

I heard several people at the conference say that they wished there would be a separate conference just for "mommy bloggers," but I'm not sure I'd go to something like that. I think of all the people I would have missed out on. One of the best parts of this conference for me was the variety of the attendees.

I am astounded at the breadth and variety of blogs, bloggers, motivations, and topics. I no longer wonder if in 10 years blogging will have died out. I don't see how that would be possible. We all have too much to say.

(I know, I know, shut the fuck up already about BlogHer. Not today.)

Ack, I think my heart would stop for a second! Wondering what my dream childhood would have been? Wonder no longer. Snort! Yes, airports suck monkey balls. HA! And I'm still laughing about the black market bazooka. I hate when that happens. What ever happened to quality kitteh, anyway?

Recalls: Sara Lee bread and True Leaf arugula and spring mix.

Be gentle, for it has been many days since my last GRIT post… Hold me.

Go support Paige while she stands up for her child. Snort. I love this kind of news. And how can this be wrong when it feels so right? And I am now afraid of my cat. But I agree with this cat.

Recalls: Pottery Barn crib bumpers, De La Rosa Pulparindo candy, Sauder TV stands, and super-fancy pacifiers.

I don't normally have a problem with free stuff. In fact, I like it quite a bit. But as I look through my swag bags from BlogHer '07, I do notice a disturbing theme. Among many other class-act items, I was offered:

• A potholder from Butterball.
• An apron from Wine.com.
• A hand mirror from Wiley.

And it makes me wonder. And I say hmmmm.

On the face of it, it seems appropriate for a producer of mass-market turkeys and turkey accessories to use a potholder as their calling card. I mean, even though this was a blogging conference, it might seem a little strange for them to hand out thumb drives.

That would be strange, right?

Strange and incredible.

These companies completely missed the boat. Seriously, a potholder? Yeah, I'm a woman. Yeah, I cook. But this was not a conference for cooking women, this was a conference for blogging women. You know, who use computers. And I know, Math Is Hard Barbie, but blow me. The more I think about the apron and the hand mirror and the potholder, the angrier I get.

And I should say that I hold Elisa, Jory and Lisa up as our own goddesses. The founders of BlogHer? I.Love.Them. And this post has nothing to do with them or their incredible conference at all.

But companies who hear "woman" and think "apron" make my blood boil.

The weekend was full of accidental meetings and it all started in the first 30 seconds after I arrived at my hotel. There was a woman checking in next to me and I wondered to myself if she was a fellow blogHer. Of course, as the afternoon went on I became shameless and accosted every woman I met with the words "Are you a blogger?" but at this point I was still more circumspect.

She and I ended up in the elevator together — trapped by the insane card-reader that makes you learn ninja moves before you can push the button for your floor — and it turned out she was Laurie from Sk*rt. Oh, how we laughed.

The first morning we were there, they announced that we were going to do something called "Speed Dating." I was skeptical that it was going to be something well intentioned but unfomortable like that "fall back into the arms of your partner" trust crap, but this turned out to be really fun. And I hate shit like that. A lot.

My first speed dater, now known as my BFF, was the hilarious Christine Kane. We had decided before the conference that we needed to meet, and by all the gods of blogher there we were. It was excellent, although later she was miffed when she found out I later speed-dated others behind her back. But I'm a slut like that and it's best she found out early in our relationship.

Have I mentioned before that I really grew to appreciate bloggers who had photos on their blogs? That made it much easier to recognize some of the people as I was scanning the crowd. One person who helped me out in this way was Wendy Piersall. More about her later, but I saw her across the room in a session and ended up spending a lot of time with her at the conference. Suffice to say that she is just like she comes across on her blog: a fireball of energy focussed like a laser beam.

Through Wendy, I met the amazing Liz Strauss, and she and I attended several sessions together. Funny, dry, and a complete smart-ass. You can see why she and I got along.

Good grief. There are so many more people I met that, hey, I think I'll just do another post about them. I have to stop now because I need to start looking around this airport and see where my plane is. Cross your fingers it's not delayed!

Here I am at the BlogHer conference in Chicago surrounded by women. I went to a girl's high school, for chrissakes, and I still have never experienced anything like this.

Don't get me wrong, there's still a lot of the more traditional "girly" things happening around here even though it is a tech conference. For example, I have been known to run into someone, stare at their boobs to read their name tag, discover it is someone I love online, and I confess, girly noises come out of my mouth as I hug-tackle the poor recipient.

But let me get back to this being a tech conference. For women.

Fucking amazing.

This morning as I was listening to Esther Dyson, Annalee Newitz and Rashmi Sinha speak at the keynote I was struck by the fact that almost everyone in the room was a woman. Almost everyone I have spoken to since Thursday has been a woman. And I can't remember the last time this happened.

I've always thought "girl power" and other womanisms were a load of shit. I never felt like I needed more or less of a connection to other women or men. I always thought that our similarities outweighed our differences.

I still feel that way, but.

I now wonder if my "we're all the same" rhetoric was really just an excuse for the fact that I needed to assimilate into geek life and most geeks are men.

But up on stage I saw these amazing people who think like I do, who have the same kinds of interests I do, who if we worked together would absolutely be the people I would seek out for knowledge. And they were women. And that made a difference to me. And that was mind-blowing.

More posts to come about the people I've met here who have touched me personally as well as professionally. I feel like I'm sitting in front of a fire hose, so get ready to have it turned on you.

I'm at the fabulous BlogHer conference in Chicago, and if you weren't able to come or just want to know some of what it is like, you can stalk me here:

I'm putting text updates of what is going on over at Twitter.com/plainjanemom.

Photos are at Flickr.com/photos/plainjanemom.

WHY is there no service that would let me do both of these activities at once??

OK, I'm wiped out since I've been up since 3:30 this morning. Good night all!

One year ago today I started this rinky-dink operation with a gleam in my eye and a song in my heart.

No, really.

I had been up since 3am so my eyes had glazed over, and I could not for the life of me get The Rescue Pack song out of my head. As I was in the middle of losing my mind I decided to start a blog. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Now that I've had this blog for a year I am amazed at the people I've met, the stories I've read, and did I mention the people? An amazing bunch of ladies (and dudes) out there who have really helped me see that I'm not alone in this parenting gig. I love it, and I love you all :) Mostly.

Last year at this time I was reading post after post from people getting ready to go to this "Blogher" thing. Frankly, I thought they were exceedingly weird and I just didn't get what was going on.

This year? I'm packing to get my ass to Chicago, and I'm one of the weird. OK, I suppose I've always been in that group, but now it has become something more official.

And as a Blorthday gift to myself I redesigned this site. I hope you like it, but more importantly please let me know what I busted. It's pretty much the same as the old design, but (hopefully) less clutter. Let me know what you think.

Now I've got to go get packing and see if I can decipher the TSA carry-on guidelines. I'll leave you with this helpful, albeit condescending, snippet from their site:

We also ask that you follow the guidelines above and try not to over-think these guidelines. Please pack liquids, gels, and aerosols in your checked baggage even if you do not normally check a bag.

Um, OK.

Oh good grief! Don't let your toddler read this. Look away if you love Crocs. Please commiserate with L. Go Wendy, Go Wendy, it's your birthday! I just want to know how these don't roll down and become a belt. I've been doing my part for the last couple of days! You're welcome.

Recalls: More Easy Bake Ovens, Playskool sippy cups, Castleberry Food and Dog Food, Menard's lounge chairs, Black & Decker Trimmers,

Guest post by Andrea R of AtypicaLife dot net

Hi, my name is Andrea and my oldest son is married. Actually, he eloped. That's kind of hard to get used to right now. I've only been able to say it for… lemme think… four days now. And to top it off, I have not yet hit the big 4-0. Aren't I a little young to have married children? What happened anyway?

I guess I'm not really sure. I mean, I knew he had a girlfriend (sweet girl, if slightly crazy like the rest of us) and they were planning on getting married sometime. And to be honest, when they showed up on our doorstep in fancy outfits looking like someone got married, and nobody died as far as we knew, well, it started to dawn on me. Hey, I may be blonde, but even I am not that dense.

I couldn't help it. I looked at my dear sweet boy, my only son I might add, and all I could think of was "Where did the time go?" He's no longer a little boy, he's a man. A college student on the dean's list, a hard worker, a guy who pays his own bills and even does his own laundry. And now he's married. He came in the house, took his shoes off and walked. He didn't run, didn't track mud all over the place and not once did he rub his grubby fingers on the walls. I think his nails were even clean. I think he even ignored the refrigerator.

*sigh*

You know, I tried hard, I did. I tried to raise the kids to be responsible adults with their own minds, to follow their hearts, to do what makes them happy, and darn it all if he didn't go and do just that.

It was really disconcerting.

We're happy, I swear. These are happy tears, really. And the fact that his father and I went and did the same thing means we couldn't complain even if we wanted to. Look at the money we saved! And we didn't even have to travel; they came to us. No rigmarole with a loud party, obnoxious distant relatives, sore feet and tables of food we shouldn't eat too much of, no huge fancy cakes I'd be roped into making.

Anyway, I give them five years. No, not five years for the marriage, silly. Five years for grandchildren. Yes, I did tell them. I mean, I was just putting that out there. Low pressure and all. So they know where I stand and can make plans accordingly. I'm easy that way.

Hey, this mother-in-law stuff is turning out to be pretty decent.

I still want cake though.

Guest post by Andrea R of AtypicaLife dot net