I feel like I should be wearing a shirt that announces Tessa's delicate condition. Even though she is like 28 weeks pregnant, she is barely showing (go ahead, other mommies, insert bad word). Of course she makes sure she reminds me constantly that she is expecting ... i.e. she always gets the good end seat, while I, err, gracefully, take the middle seat. We walk slow everywhere (sort of) - lest she'll start muttering something about "braxton hicks." She can't get too hot or we'll both be fanning her. (Could the Nashville Frist Center for the Visual Arts please turn up the a/c?) She refuses to accompany me to a Nashville "honky tonk" ("the smoke bothers me") and all dining must have chocolate, Pee-can pie (she IS from Abilene, people) or French fries as menu options. And, for those hormonal moments, the only answer I can give is "yes," when she looks at me forlornly and asks if we can buy the cheesy $12.99 picture of us in front of the Grand Ole Opry (that's a work expense, right?).
But, I adore her. The trip would be a total bummer without her. Work conferences are great for a lot of things ... you get a break from the routine, you meet your colleagues from around the country who totally get your everyday dilemmas, you learn something new and meet some pretty innovative thinkers who make you want to run back to the office and re-do EVERYTHING (or just get a new desk calendar), you eat and drink WAY too much (unless your Tessa - relax Chris!) and you spend 80 percent of the time wishing you could just sleep more. But, best of all, you get to bond with your co-worker(s) and share a bottle of aerosol hairspray - well, we ARE Texas chicks - back and forth between two floors on the hotel, as well as cultivate a friendship the extends beyond the office corridors. And that, my friends, is worth the rubber chicken we're about to consume tonight.
Awards will be announced tonight and we'll try to post.
Happy Saturday --shelley
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