Bound for Salon LGBTQ

I’m leaving on a jet plane, but I do know when I’ll be back again.  So, I guess it’s not a very sad departure.  I associate that song with the last night of overnight camp, gasping for air as all the campers bawled in the dark around a campfire because we were leaving the next morning.  We didn’t know if we’d be back again.  Oh baby, we hated to go.  I wonder how many campers registered for the next summer that morning when they returned home, eyes bloodshot and traumatized by camp withdrawal.  Who knew the power of that song?  Well, our camp directors did.

I’m leaving on a jet plane to go to Salon LGBTQ in Atlanta where I will rub shoulders with social media mavens and budding bloggers.  
While I’m normally pretty dormant on Twitter, I suspect that I will be tweeting away under the guidance of my Twitter Sponsor, Vikki.  Also expect a post or two detailing the experience of shoulder rubbing and hobnobbing and schmoozing.  And, if anyone is local, can you please drive by my house and make sure it’s still standing?  That would be super. 

Gabriella is an able stay at home parent, but she’ll be working from home while she parents, and we all know how challenging the juggling can be.  In preparation for my journey, 5 days in total, I’ve prepared a comprehensive reference guide.  I’ve been working on it for days adding detailed notes about after school activities, lunch requirements and bath schedules.  It’s bit much, I realize, but I can’t let it go.  I can’t just say, “On Thursdays, they do homework and then go to swim class.”  I am compelled to explain what change of clothes to bring and what snacks are acceptable and which are not  and what not to forget and how to amuse the child who’s waiting for his class and on and on.

The last time I left her for a long weekend, I took pictures of the lunch box items so that she could see not only WHAT was packed but HOW it was packed.  What is wrong with me?

The boys know the drill.  Gabriella is more than capable of figuring it all out and improvising where necessary.  I tell myself that if the shoe were on the other foot, I’d appreciate knowing it all.  But when is it enough? 

And so I say to her, “It doesn’t really matter if you don’t follow these guidelines exactly.  You should all have a good time.  That’s all that matters.  I’m just trying to give you some helpful hints.”  But I don’t mean it, and she knows it.    She also knows that she’ll excel in areas where I fall down.  When I get home, there will be no piles of paper anywhere as she is bound to chuck anything that doesn’t lookimportant.  There will be a fridge packed with delicious, homemade fare.  She’ll have managed the home far better than I ever could.  I should probably go away more often so that she can do all the managing.  She’ll probably disagree with that conclusion.  She can be so contrary.

News from HotLanta to follow!

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