Anxiety, Part 67

We are at t-minus one day until my departure for Chicage for that thing that everyone is sick to death of reading about. Unless you're going, in which case you gobble up every word you can find about it. Especially if you're a first timer like me. Because you don't know exactly what to expect and you're nervous and afraid that no one will know you or want to know you. That everyone will be so caught up in Bloggess sightings that they'll be like, "Cara who? You write a blog about vegetables*? Greeeaat. Oh, you're a mommy blogger. How original." If it weren't for a couple of fabulous ladies, I would probably be approaching hyperventilating anxiety at this point.

When I was in high school, my sister told me that people thought I was a priss. Which is so not me. I mean, sure, I'm a tad uptight about sex and I'm kind of puritanical when it comes to my clothing and yes, I'm a conservative. (gasp!) But I'm totally not a priss. What's that? Textbook definition of priss, you say? Bah. I think it had more to do with the fact that when I'm not smiling, my face falls into a sort of puckery look. So to my blog friends who are going, please don't let my lemonface turn you away, I really am quite friendly.

(See how friendly this face is! It's not really, is it? Damn it.)















Anyhoo, I'll probably be scarce for the next couple of days, although I'll try to check in from time to time.

I would also like to take a moment to thank my sponsor, Dad, for making this trip possible. And Johnson and Johnson, for the amazing prize! (Although I haven't seen the money yet, so it is possible that I just went out and stimulated** the economy to the tune of $400 in clothes and such and I will never see a penny of it back.)

See you on the other side of Chicago.

*You know, because of the name. Bean. Get it?

**Ha ha, I said stimulated.