I spent the weekend at the
OWFI annual conference. It was my first time to be at the conference, and I had a great time. I won third place for my picture book
A Walk With Mother Nature. More than anything, though, I appreciated the opportunity to meet and get to know some fabulous people.
I gained valuable information from top-notch people in this industry like
Lela Davidson and
Chuck Sambuchino.
In one of my sessions, I met a sweet older couple who came into the "Socialist Media Panel" to learn all about "twitters and email." I served as their interpreter - no lie. At one point the sweet female member of this couple said, "What does hashtag mean?. She also said to her partner, "Someone needs to teach me how to google." And for the rest of the session, I sang (in my head, of course), "Teach me how to google! Teach me how to google! Teach me, teach me, teach me how to google 'cause all them bitches love me." I was straight-up Oklahoma Swag District, yo.
I roomed with my friends Marilyn Boone and
Denise Jarmola. Every morning we woke up screaming and hitting the deck because we thought we were under attack by Diet Coke cans rupturing in our way-too-cold fridge. Call me Kilgore, but I love the smell of exploded Diet Coke in the mornings.
I met a fabulous friend,
Mari Farthing, whose blog I'd been following for some time. OK, I didn't realize it was her until I got home and checked my blog roll and then realized it was her. We're dork sisters and proud of it. We've got some great things in the works together, including but not limited to a
saucy 5K in September. Don't worry, you'll get to hear all about it! She promises to not let them pack up and go home until I finish. Isn't she the best?
I ran into a real, live Ghostbuster. Twice. I saw him once with Mari at lunch and once on Sunday morning as he was checking out of the hotel. I'd have rested a whole lot easier if I had know a Ghostbuster (or at least some guy with a real, live Ghostbuster costume) had been under the same roof with me. I might not have jumped so high or screamed so loud during the morning Diet Coke bombings.
Finally, while lunching with Mari, we were introduced to the finest server Zio's had to offer: Fancy Tommy. Fancy Tommy intrigued and enthralled us. He wrote his name backwards and upside down with TWO crayons in ONE hand. We called him Fancy Tommy throughout our entire meal, but he only knew about it as we were paying our bill. Very humbly, Fancy Tommy asked what we were doing in town - honestly, I'm sure he was looking to score with two 40 somethin'-year old mommas, but we're committed. Sorry,
Charlie! Fancy Tommy!.
We told him we were at the writing conference. Then, in true beggar's form, I whipped out a bookmark and said, "
Here's what I write! Please follow my blog! Please tell your momma and your aunts and your older sisters! They'll love me, Fancy Tommy! They'll love me! You? Probably not so much."
None the less, I promised to write about him, and I always keep my promises. I'm sure that Fancy Tommy bragged to his fellow Zio-ites because after I passed off my bookmark, we were offered more bread and more water (even though our glasses were full) and more anything at all. We were impressed with their fruitless efforts to get a blog post devoted to them. However, Fancy Tommy had our hearts with his service, his smile, and his offers to give us forgotten take-home boxes even before he knew I was a not-so-famous blogger.
Don't worry, Fancy Tommy! When we run our 5K, we'll be back to carb load with you, my friend!
