I'm sitting in the St. Louis airport, and I'm so cold. It's 33 degrees on the other side of these thick airport windows, and I didn't bring a coat. I browsed the shops for a solution, but I'd prefer that the most expensive item in my closet not be a St. Louis sweatshirt. One possible alternative is a Budweiser beach towel from the gift store bargain bin, but I'm thinking that wrapping myself in a beer towel should, perhaps, be a last resort. Instead, I bought a crock-pot cookbook, because it just seemed warm.
I'm sitting here with my sandwich and trying to warm up next to a giant photo of Wolfgang Puck, in his airport restaurant ("I'm Taking My Favorite Recipes To New Heights, Because Everyone Deserves a First-Class Meal," the sign says. Really, you have to applaud a pun that is entirely unashamed of itself.) I'm thinking and chewing, shivering in the airport noise, trying to process all the pieces from this busy weekend.
It was great fun; our hosts could not have been more gracious. I reconnected, brainstormed and laughed with several dear friends. I made new friends, too, meeting several creative, savvy, intelligent, funny women who just blew me away. I puzzled, again, at how blogs seem to make the world so big and so small, all at the same time. I remembered (and it was some much-needed remembering) what I love about this curious world of blogging.
I'm tempted to try to link to everyone I met this weekend, but I know I'd leave someone out--and that would be almost as tacky as a beer towel. Instead, may I just say a hearty "thank you" to those of you I met this weekend. You ladies inspire me and make me laugh!
