I can hardly believe it’s taken me nearly two weeks to properly recap my BlogHer experience in San Diego. I’ve spoken on the phone to my friends and family, recounting every detail, every party, every blogger who made me laugh until I cried. It was a fantastic time, and I can’t seem to shake the BlogHer high.

I don’t intend to put you through the hours of my droning on about how real life sucks now that everyone isn’t covered in fake tattoos (in the spots between real tattoos) or handing me free swag or coming up to me eager to swap business cards. The people I talk to in my day-to-day life know that I’m no big deal (my husband’s naturally furrowed brow is no doubt further furrowing at my nerve to say such a thing). The BlogHer high has no doubt led to withdrawals.

I also won’t gab on and on for hours in a way that’s almost torturous. I’m pretty sure my friends set the phone down, made dinner, read a book, ran a few errands and came back to my never-ending wordfest about my experience at this conference. The smartest, loveliest, funniest, craftiest, most creative and charming and witty and powerful women I’ve ever had the pleasure to be around were all in one place. And that’s why (sorry, family) I just can’t seem to stop talking about it. For you I’ve milled my weekend down to a top 10 11 list of unforgettable moments. I suppose I’ve also compiled these memories into a list for me. So that I never, ever forget them.

BlogHer 11′s top eleven:

11:: Fake tattoos! I was covered in them. I actually wore long sleeves to work for days after returning home. Scrubbing them off meant admitting the conference was over. And I was okay with being in denial for at least the lifespan of a fake tattoo (which I managed to extend to about four days).

10:: Salsa dancing with Frank (hi, Frank!), who, until he swept me across the dance floor (with moves that were quite impressive!), was a perfect stranger.

9:: High-fiving Ryan Marshall. I’ve been a fan for a year; read his blog. We live in the same city but it took flying across the country for us to actually meet. And by then, no words were necessary. He caught me off guard when he popped out from behind his video camera. And then, as if we were longtime friends who didn’t need to say hello, he gave me a high five. And that was that. It felt oddly comforting to have him in the same room; out of everyone there, I supposed he was the person I felt closest to. Like going to the same camp as your cousin …whom you’ve never met in person …? Bad analogy.

8:: Dance networking. It’s a buzzword I’m coining. Here’s how it goes: step 1) business cards in hand, glance around the room and find people who look fun to dance with. Step 2) enthusiastically dance your way across the room until you’ve reached your destination and have become a participant in an unexpected dance-0ff. Step 3) hold your name badge up while smiling. This is also known as Better Alternative to Awkward Introductions and Small Talk. Step 4) Exchange business cards with a cheerful thumbs up. Step 5) Win the dance off.

7:: Learning the choreography to Beyonce’s Single Ladies. Seriously, if Beyonce could see me now.

6:: Brene Brown signed my book. Well, her book. She signed my copy of her book. It’s titled “The Gifts of Imperfection,” and I told her that I think she wrote it because I needed to read it (I know, the nerve of me to say such a thing to an accomplished, brilliant author). I don’t know whether I’ll ever grow to overcome the shame I feel daily, the disappointment, the feelings of inadequacy. But I’m hopeful that I can understand them in a new way that allows me to move past them. And thanks to her book, I know that perfectionism is a disease. I’ve said this about fifty times since I met Brene, but I’m buying this book for every woman I love for her next birthday.

5:: Listening. There’s a certain human emotion reserved for when someone’s about to give what you expect to be a bad toast at a wedding, or a poorly written speech in class. But when it’s a conference filled with thousands of writers, the feeling changes completely. I waited in eager anticipation during the short few moments between talks at the community keynote during the time it took the readers to walk a few short steps on and off stage. I loved hearing their writing read as it was intended to be read – in their voices. And at the open mic night, I wasn’t even upset that I wasn’t called to read. I already know all the stuff that’s on my blog; I want to hear what’s on everyone else’s. It was like a new drug craving – I just couldn’t get enough of these new, creative thinkers; these brilliant wordsmiths who had me alternating between tears and stitches. I met some of the strongest moms, fighting battles every day with poise, and smiling even when they’re experiencing unbearable hurt (find them here and here). And I listened to some of the funniest women I’ve ever heard (her and her and her). I laughed until I had to physically hold my crotch so that pee didn’t come out. Sorry Mom. (She just hates when I do that in public).

4:: Getting my first “tag” at the Aiming Low party. I was greeted by a woman who, after introducing herself, wrote in sharpie on a sticker and then stuck it to my dress. It now lives on the back of my name badge.

3:: Sparklecorn! When first arriving at this party, I was quite aware that I was there by myself. I panned the room and walked the perimeter of the dance floor, water bottle in hand. Be brave, I thought, challenging myself. And off I went dancing into a mob of strangers. And let me tell you, I dance-networked the shit out of that party. No regrets. This video will make you wish you were there. Oh, and I danced with Cecily Fucking Kellogg.

2:: Karen Walrond‘s life talk. Calling it a pep talk seems inadequate in that what she gave me was a gift greater than words. It was as if she carved out a piece of her vibrant aura and handed it to my heart. She told me, “You’ll never be the person you’re comparing yourself to,” and that I am the most important person in the world. That I’m awesome. And safe. And beautiful.

1:: Eden Riley. I’d never heard of her before arriving at the conference, but she’s stuck with me in a way that is profound and unexplainable. She’s vibrant and lovely and emotional and raw. I don’t want to tell her story, but I encourage you read what she shared with us so that you might also be bitten by the bug of inspiration.

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