25 Things On My To Do List Before I Head to Laguna Niguel to Speak At Mom 2.0 Summit

1. Look forward to getting out of Saskatchewan for a few days, because this is what our spring dumped on us last night. For serious:



2. Sand the devil callouses off my feet so that they look less hoof-like in sandals.

3. Shave my legs. I have what we Canucks refer to as "insulation" going on, but I don't think anyone's going to be complimenting me on my luxurious fur in Laguna.

4. Find the business cards with my actual name on them, because, believe it or not, I have a name other than Schmutzie!

5. Practice my talk over and over until my voice cracks.

6. Try to rework my talk, because it takes ten minutes to get through, not the seven it's supposed to.

7. Fuss over writing a sentence that ends in a preposition, because procrastination by grammar worry feels productive.

8. Laugh at the men's deodorant in Shoppers Drug Mart. BELIEVE IN YOUR SMELLF:



9. Work on my word enunciation, because maybe I can fit all ten minutes into seven minutes if I speak really fast.

10. Go clothes shopping, because I am still wearing the clothes I bought for BlogHer '10.

11. Launder all of the things.

12. Feel like I'm marching headlong into old age while organizing my vitamins and allergy medication into a days-of-the-week pill organizer.

13. Investigate my suitcase for signs of cat urine, because Onion is an evil bastard who likes to thwart my travel plans.

14. Listen to the whole of Neutral Milk Hotel's "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea" album at least three times, because repetition is my lorazepam.



15. Pick up American money at the bank.

16. Play dirty words in Scrabble to amuse myself enough to forget my travel anxiety.

17. Feel the old burn of the grudge I hold against my grandmother for that time she wouldn't let me play FUCK on a triple word score for many tens of points.

18. Place a panicked call to my hairdresser. Leave a panicked message when she doesn't pick up. Panic.

19. Practice gelling my unruly sideburns behind my ears.

20. Make both Onion and the Palinode wheeze with extra squeezes, because I'll miss them when I have to sleep without them in my hotel room. The other two cats are being pissants, so they can suck it.



21. Try to keep my cool about the fact that I get to room with the inimitable Suebob.

22. Make sure I have my itinerary handy, because I have to make my way through seven airports on this one trip, and I WILL NOT FAIL.

23. Write extra poetry in advance so that I can keep up with my #365poems project while I'm travelling.

24. Write a prayer tanka while waiting for the herbal anxiety tincture to kick in:

Remember your feet.
They move on assuredly.
They know the way there.
They've borne you since your first year,
and bear what you cannot see.

25. Pack my suitcase.

Mom 2.0 Summit and the Three Way Death Match Podcast

I have two good news things. I would show you a picture of me thumbs-upping the fabulousness of these two things, but then you'd have to see what I look like when I've come down with my third dread virus in a row, and you don't want to see that. There are only so many purple eye bags combined with tired skin and red eyes that the world can handle, so you're just going to have to take my word for it that I am thrilled to the gills.

Thing #1: I'm speaking at Mom 2.0 Summit.

I'm speaking at Mom 2.0 Summit!

The Mom 2.0 Summit is a premier professional conference for influential mom bloggers and female entrepreneurs who create online content. Every year, leaders in media and industry converge at the Summit to compare notes, discuss ideas, and forecast what’s next for women online and in the marketplace.

I am beyond happy that I made the roster of speakers, and I can't wait to hit Laguna Beach and seriously commune with my fellow bloggers.

Thing #2: I have a new, excellent podcast.

Leah Peterson, Kelly Wickham, and I have created a new, excellent podcast called Three Way Death Match.



Click here to listen to Episode 1: Beyoncé's Thighs, in which we discuss Beyoncé, beauty, and Lance Armstrong. And, yes, you have to listen to it. There will be a test on Monday.

Now you. What are your good things?

Three Things Wrong With Today

1. I have a cold, and my entire body is weak as a noodle, and that noodle is also a terribly hurty and whiny noodle who needs to be tucked in and given tea and told she is very, very special, because her face looks really old when she's aching and sick, which is depressing, and she's pretty sure the world doesn't like her very much, and this is no time for bucking up, not when there's so much sad-making to be done.


2. Also, this introvert spent three days straight being an extrovert — seeing old friends, speaking at a conference, hanging out with toddlers who like to jump up and down loudly on giant bubble wrap — and, WOW, I am some hothouse flower of an introvert or something, because I am right at this moment working on my floorplans for my own remote, underground bunker. Anyone with communication skills more complex than my cats' set of meows and occasional pawing is not allowed.


3. I couldn't figure out what smelled like cat urine on this bus, but it seemed to be right near me, so I sniffed my way around the couple of seats I've commandeered — I moved from my purse to my coat to a diet Coke bottle, all which came up smelling pretty average for themselves — and then I decided to pull the paper cheese biscuit bag out of my garbage and check it out, even though that would be ridiculous, right? Because I had just bought that biscuit not 20 minutes before, and I would have noticed it, right? Well, apparently not, because the cheese biscuit bag wreaked of cat urine. Now all I can think about is how that cheese biscuit I ate was really a cheese and cat urine biscuit, and it's inside me right now. INSIDE ME.
   
   Would I like a little feline urine with my biscuit? Don't mind if I do. If it's not glowing in the dark, I'm not having it! Down with ammonia-poor diets!