I don’t have the time to write a coherent introduction to this post so you’ll just have to jump right in with me.

We’ll get the hard stuff out of the way first.

I’m not a real blonde.

There. Moving on.

People would say that I’m outgoing, love to laugh, and am comfortable around people. I’m not 100% convinced this is true, but for this weekend, I better figure out how to make this work.

I’m a Red Sox fan, I’m addicted to Diet Coke, and I hate wearing socks. I have an amazing husband, a beautiful baby girl, and two lazy cats. We live in CT a little too close to the NY border for my liking and we talk all the time about moving to an area where we can get NESN on cable.

This is the first time I’m leaving my daughter overnight. It’s actually the first time I’m leaving my daughter for longer than 10-hours. This is EXTREMELY hard for me. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I’m worried about her well being. I’m NOT. My husband is fantastic with her. I miss her every minute I’m away from her even on a normal day. Being away from her for THREE WHOLE DAYS and having an actual airline FLIGHT separate us is killing me with each minute we get closer to departure time.

I hate to fly. I fly a LOT. Like probably five or so times a year. Which maybe is not a LOT, but it feels like it. Just because I fly ALL THE TIME doesn’t mean I like it. I hate it. I hate being it tight spaces. I hate being on dirty, disgusting, germy planes. I hate watching people not cover their mouths when they cough. I hate the airports. I hate security. I hate it all. HATE HATE HATE. So just because I DO it, doesn’t mean I like it. Kind of like wearing high-heels.

I know that once I get there, once I arrive at the Sheraton, I will be FINE. However, up until the moment that I’m safe in my room, I will be freaking the hell out, thinking the worst, longing for my family, and questioning why the FUCK I decided to do this to begin with.

When I start to relax. And I will. Hopefully without the need of substances (because alcohol + cute shoes = me falling down), I will want to get the most out of the 61-hours that I’m in Chicago. I will eventually muster up some confidence and armed with the awesome business cards that Cass designed, I will head down to the most Anxiety Inducing Social Event of the Year and will awkwardly wonder if it’s okay to hug each and every one of you.

I really am so excited to be going. I know that I will find other people like me that are nervous and scared and wishing they just wore their flip-flops already because these GD shoes are KILLING ME and together we will sit there and tweet about how we just saw @amalah walk by with @sundry and @sweetney but were too scared to go up and say hi.

And then we’ll do a shot of tequila Red Bull, smooth out our skirts favorite comfy jeans, and stumble confidently walk over to say hi to some of the most respected, funny, and admirable bloggers of the web.

Watch out, Chicago. I’m so not READY for this!

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