I’ve had my fair share of issues with my colon. I’m only 33 and yet I’ve had more colonoscopies then someone twice my age. What I’ve learned from this is that if something odd is going on with the parts that are covered by your underwear, go and see a doctor!

Don’t be shy!

(Okay, you can be a little shy. I’ve heard it isn’t much fun to drop your drawers and spread your cheeks in front of a doctor who is applying lubricants to his [gloved] hand while your screaming newborn is held by a random nurse. Yeah, I’ve heard this isn’t much fun.)

In case you’re new here to holaisabel.com you might not know that I’ve had 15 polyps removed from my colon in the past three years. Apparently my body is really good at making polyps. And while I’ve been lucky that none of them have been cancerous, it doesn’t mean that at some point one of them might be full of cancer.

This isn’t something that I like to think about, but it’s a fact.

That’s why when I read about Lisa over at MiswesternMommy being told by her doctor that she has cancer my heart stopped and my eyes teared up.

Cancer doesn’t care how old you are. Cancer doesn’t care if you have a husband and children. Cancer doesn’t care if you’re happy and beautiful and healthy.

Cancer doesn’t care.

But we care, Lisa. We care. And together, we can show cancer who’s in charge.

(Finally getting to spend time with Lisa at BlogHer ‘07.)

So many of us have be affected (effected?) by cancer. Be proactive. Don’t forget to do your self-exams, get regular mammograms and colonoscopies.

And for the love of Pete, if you suspect something is wrong with your body, go and see a doctor.

I’ve had the same older brother since I was born.  I’ve had my same younger brother for twenty eight years.  My baby sister?  Well, I’ve had her as my sister for almost twenty six years.  When I think back to my childhood, there are very few memories that don’t have one of them as my co-star.  And if they weren’t staring in one of my memories, they were there as supporting characters or maybe even a member of the choir.

I spent the first twenty five years of my life living within a two hour drive of my parent’s house.  I never went more then a week without seeing some member of my family.  When my older brother moved three hours away to go to college, I would drive out to see him once a month.

I wouldn’t say that my siblings and I were particular close, but we were around each other a lot.   Especially since both my parents worked full time and the older siblings (me) had to babysit the younger ones.  A lot.

As a teenager I don’t think I could have imagined a time when my siblings wouldn’t play a major role in my life.  They were just around and I assumed they would always be there.

I’m thirty three now.  I talk to my sister on the phone, probably, every other day.  We e-mail numerous times during the day.  While we have nothing at all in common, she’s one of my closets friends.  I talk to my younger brother on the phone every few months.  It’s not that we don’t like each other.  I think we don’t talk more simply because he’s a boy and I’m a girl.  When I do talk to him I love it.  But neither one of us makes the effort to talk more.  My older brother lives 4 blocks from our new house.  It takes less then five minutes to walk to his apartment.  I’ve seen him twice in the last year.

When I stop to think about this I get sad.  How can these people who played such a major role in my life make only sporadic guest appearances now that we’re older?  Is it because they are the one who know my secrets?  Do I not talk to my younger brother more often because he’s one of the few who can remember all my slimy boyfriends?  Do I distance myself from my older brother because he knew me when overalls were the crowing moment in fashion?

My dad is one of nine siblings.   He’s one of the older siblings, so when his mom died he and my mom ended up with five of his younger siblings.  They raised the two youngest brothers from the time they were eleven.  While they were all born in West Virginia eight of the nine siblings live in Utah.

And yet, there are some of my dad’s siblings that I’ve never even met.  I wouldn’t recognize most of them if I passed them on the street.  I might be able to name most of my cousins, but I’d never be able to pick them out of a line up if my life depended on it.

My dad’s been trying to get his siblings all together for the past six months.  Last Friday five of them met at my parents house. They sat under the tree, eating BBQ and sharing stories most of them had long forgotten.  All of them showed up with a few precious pictures from their childhood.  Most of the pictures had never been shared.  They passed the pictures around while they laughed and cried about the years long gone.  My dad scanned every last picture and made a disk for all of them to take home.  He’s mailing me my own copy.

I talked to my mom last night about the family reunion. She said it was magical.  Some of them hadn’t seen each other in over thirty years.  Four of the nine siblings decided not to show up for the reunion.  When my mom called one of them earlier in the week to remind him to come, he told my mom he was happy in his life and didn’t feel the need to mess with that.  She understood.  Another one is too sick and frail to travel.  One said she would be there, and then never showed up.  And one of them, well, nobody’s heard from him in over ten years.  They assume he’s dead, but they don’t know.

I can’t imagine not seeing my brother in over thirty years.  I don’t want that.  I want Babboo to know the wonderful people that I lived with during my younger days.  Heck, I want to know them too.

I guess that means I need to pick up the phone and make more of an effort.

So tell me, what are your thoughts on your relationship with your siblings?

For most of my life I’ve felt like I just never fit in.

I was the girl that always sat outside the circle because my hair was wrong or my clothes were wrong. I was the girl that didn’t have the boyfriend or the date to prom. I was the girl that was just overweight enough that I was never one of the pretty girls. I was the girl with bad teeth, horrible hair, and hairy legs.

When I hear people laugh, I’m convinced they’re laughing at me. Not with me. I immediately look down to see if my fly is open or wonder if something is caught in my teeth. The King main purpose is to tell me if I have food in my teeth. Really, it’s why I got married.

I feel like those around me are very secure while I’m the only one that’s insecure. I see the girl, dressed in her sleek outfit and her perfect hair, laugh and smile while everyone pushes to get closer to her. I wonder what it’s like to be her. To be confident enough to just know that everyone likes me. To know that I’m funny, or smart, or pretty enough.

I spent the better part of my high school career hiding behind fake confidences. I wore clothes that were a little odd and just acted like I meant to be kooky. I assumed I was the only one that did this. I felt like the only girl that didn’t have all the right clothes. I would have never admitted out loud that I felt like I never fitted in. And since nobody else ever admitted it, it just feed into me feeling more alone and out of place.

Any time I came home from being at a social function I would relive the entire event in my head and wonder why I made such an ass out of myself while everyone else seemed to be so confident and be having such a great time. I knew how I felt about it and I just assumed how everyone else must have felt. I assumed I was the only insecure one, the only one that ever felt this way.

And then I went to BlogHer and realized I wasn’t the only one.

The last night in Chicago was spent at a cocktail party. I remember distinctly standing behind a pillar with Carrisa and hearing her tell me how she felt out of place. I can’t be certain, but there might have even been tears in her eyes. I looked at her and told her that I felt out of place also. She seemed shocked to hear this. And I was shocked that she was shocked. Of course I felt out of place. I mean, of course I did! And as for Carrisa feeling out of place, I was shocked to hear that. To me Carrisa seemed cool and confident. She made everyone feel relaxed and kept us all laughing during the conference.

I couldn’t stop thinking about this brief, yet critical moment with Carrisa. This moment where I realized that I wasn’t alone in my feelings of imperfection. It wasn’t just me.

I got back from BlogHer and something else happened. Bloggers started to write about their feelings about BlogHer. For the first time in my life I was able to read exactly how other women felt at the same social function I was at. The interweb had introduced this whole new way to see inside a person’s heart.

What I read really surprised me. It amazed me. It stunned me.

I had never read or heard of Crystal before I saw her at BlogHer and witnessed Liz and Stacy freak out about meeting her. Just seeing how much they liked her cemented in my mind how cool she must be. I heard Crystal make educated statements in sessions, I witnessed how cute her and her husbands seemed together, I stood near her the first night and watched her laugh and have a good time with others. I never felt cool enough to spend quality time with her, although I wanted to.

I returned from Chicago and read Crystal’s post about her experiences at BlogHer. To say I was shocked to hear how out of place she felt would be a gross understatement. When I read that she cried and didn’t want to come back for the second day, I was horrified. I really had no idea she had felt this way. I felt horrible for being lame and not trying to spend more time with Crystal and her husband. I was ashamed for not including her more, when the reason I hadn’t was because I felt like she was too cool for me and my little group of friends.

Then I read Miss Zoot’s BlogHer recap post and was even more shocked to read that she felt excluded. How could this internet goddess ever feel excluded? In my mind Miss Zoot was the biggest blogger there. That first morning in Chicago Carrisa sent me a text message telling me she was sitting next to Zoot at breakfast and I about passed out. Zoot in the house? Dude, I wasn’t worthy (or prepared to meet her). And because of my own insecurities I didn’t glom on to her like I would have liked to.

While reading Zoot’s recap I was embarrassed and ashamed at myself. I had failed as a human being and I knew it. Because I read Zoot, I knew she had just gone through another horrible miscarriage. Since I’ve had a few of my own, I could relate. But instead of relating, instead of hugging her and telling her I’m sorry, I just ignored it. I read Zoot’s post after BlogHer and kicked myself for being a failure. For being the type of person I don’t want to be. For standing by the sidelines when I should have been in the game.

Ever since I’ve read these posts I’ve tried to remind myself that others are feeling out of place just like I am. I try to remember that the person sitting across from me fretted about wearing the right outfit just as much as I did. I remind myself to be more outgoing and to try harder to instigate a conversation with the person next to me.

Because, now I know, she may be feeling just as isolated as I am.

So tell me, how do social functions make you feel? And are there actually people out there that feel confident in these situations? And if so, please share your secrets.

I went to BlogHer with really only two expectations. The first thing I wanted was to meet friends in person. I hoped that it would be amazing. And, of course, it was. Seriously, spending time with wonderful women is always good.

That was only one of things I hoped to walk away with. The other thing is I wanted to learn some more technical stuff and maybe take this little website to the next level. I’m not too sure what the next level is, but you know, I wanted to figure that out and how to get there. I had looked over the class schedule months ago and planned on taking quite a few technical and professional classes.

That all changed with the first class I attended. I had planned on going to something all professional and techy until Zoot informed us that she had heard that the Naked Blogger class would have goody bags that may or may not include a sex toy. Hey, plans change.

Yes, I did get a sex toy (I borrowed this picture). Yes, it’s still in the package waiting to be used as the best White Elephant gift ever. But more importantly, in this class I got to listen to bloggers talk about blogging and why they blog.

What was the best thing I learned in this specific class? Yeah, it was the part where Sarcastic Journalist stood up and told us all to never, ever under any circumstance check your blog at work. She did. And she lost her job and got disowned by her family. And this is the part where I threw up in my mouth a little. Because you know, I’ve checked my blog at work a few hundred times.

Later that day I went with Lizzy to a class on tolerance on the web. I was hoping to learn something about how we treat each other. I was anxious to hear the stories from the panel members. But them something happened, one of the panel members hijacked the class and began (almost) bragging about how she likes to stir things up on the web. To me stirring things up means not being tolerant. Am I right, or am I right?

It seemed to me that the other panel members were uncomfortable. The moderator seemed to have lost control. It was not her fault. She was awesome. The other panel members were awesome. It was just that one lady. Lizzy was so upset about it all that she got up and left the room. She said she saw others in the hall that had done the same thing.

After this class was over I began having fewer expectations about the other classes. I think the planners for the conference totally had the best intentions when they picked the speakers for each class. Totally. I just felt like the the classes were very organic and just took on a life of their own. And not always in a good way.

Oh well, the catered food was t-a-s-t-y. And plentiful.
I learned quite a bit from the technical class taught by Zoot and Slackermama. I was a little nervous about attending since I didn’t have my laptop with me. But that worked out just fine since I took notes like crazy. I can’t wait to get all hooked up with plugins and widgits. Since now I know all about plugins and widgits. (Note to Lizzy, don’t forget to get a self-hosted Wordpress site.)

I originally hadn’t planned on attending the Craft Blogger class that Amy Sedaris was speaking at. After going back and forth I realized I would probably only ever have this one chance to see her. So I stayed. And I’m glad I did. Not only was Amy hilarious but being introduced to some craft blogs to check out is a good thing. I need more crafts to do in my spare time.

Were my two expectations met? I’m not too sure that I actually walked away knowing way more about blogging, or my blog specifically. Am I disappointed about this? Not at all. I did learn some new things and I got excited about learning more. Being in one place with so many other bloggers was awesome.

So was it worth it for me to attend BlogHer? Heck yes it was.

If I wouldn’t have been there I wouldn’t have gotten this awesome (?) picture of myself playing the drums at the Children’s Museum. (Babboo loves the drums, so this was my lame attempt at giving him a little shout-out.) I wouldn’t have been able to eat some deliciously catered food (Saturday morning breakfast, I’m talking to you). I wouldn’t have been able to stand on the rooftop at the Navy Pier and look out over Lake Michigan (it’s Lake Michigan, right?) and be surrounded by women who amaze me.

I also wouldn’t have been able to get this picture of the lovely Mrs. Squirrel passed out, mere seconds after meeting Chloe Dao. (It’s Mrs. Squirrel’s birthday today, so go and send her some interweb love.)

What are my suggestions for BlogHer ‘08? Maybe better training for the moderators. Maybe less discussion from the audience members. Maybe just save that part until the end of the session. Definately, more down-time. Give us some time in the afternoon to maybe go back to our hotel rooms and drop off our swag. For sure, no doubt, more time between the last class and the cocktail party. Dude, all I wanted to do was sneak back to my room and brush my teeth and apply some face powder. But there was only 15 minutes, which was not even close to enough time.

Oh, and while I’m giving suggestions, is there anyway you can work Rhett Miller into the format for next year? And maybe holding BlogHer in Seattle? I hear they have a rocking Convention Center.

First things first:

I finally finished Harry Potter. After waking up early every morning while at BlogHer and reading non stop in the airport, I finished it. And now I can listen to all of Miss Zoot’s Podcasts. (You know Miss Zoot, the one I totally just hung out with.)

Secondly, thanks to my awesome Guest Bloggers from last week. Janet and Operation Pink Herring both brought up some awesome things for y’all to discuss while I was away. Sounds like I missed some good times.

And now, on to BlogHer.

I really wish I could write an eloquent post about how amazing BlogHer was and how fabulous getting to meet all of my online friends was. But I just can’t. Maybe it’s too soon. Maybe I’m still tired from lack of sleep (see previous paragraph). Maybe I just too damn busy going through all my photos. (note to self: must subscribe to Flickr pro at some point this week.)

How much fun did I have in Chicago? A million. How much did I love finally getting to meet everyone? A million. How much did I miss my Sweet Babboo and The King? A million. How much do I miss everyone already?

A million X 10.

It’s a good thing Carrisa made us all the blacked out eyes glasses so that I won’t have to spend this week blacking out the eyes using my awesome photoshop skillz.

(L-R: Frema, Carrisa, Me, Liz, Lizarita and Mrs. Squirrel. Molly was taking the photo.)

Do you actually want to see a picture with all of our beautiful faces? Okay, if you insist.

Here we all are on the Thursday night before the conference started. We, very smartly, decided to meet for dinner before the madness began. It really was a very nice and relaxed way to just hang out and chat after a very stressful day of delayed flights and leaving babies at home.

I can’t wait to go through all the business cards I received from other lovely ladies I met and start stalking them. You know, in a very not-creepy way.

Do you want to know what I learned in the classes? Basically I learned that I should be paying attention to the speakers and not trying to take pictures.

I kid. I fully intend to get online this week and read through all the live-blogged sessions that I missed or just reread the transcripts from the ones I loved.

But before that, I gotta get some work done here at the office. And then go home and clean the apartment and do some laundry.

It’s good to be home.