In the Brown Stripe

I went and got conferenc'd this week, friends. Getting conferenc'd is kind of like getting punk'd, except without Ashton Kutcher annoying the bejeezus out of anyone, and with a lesser amount of tantrums, and a ton more ankle-length-minus-two-inches skirts. Yes, I conferred with my librarian peeps, diligently. Conferred in large and small groups, with old comrades and new, conferred like a maniac. Here's how it went, in list form. And hey, just be thankful this is in list form and not in the form of Powerpoint slides, because after the week I had, I am dreaming in god damn Powerpoint slides.

1. Until last week, I have probably only seen about 1/5 of the state, all on the western coast. Now that I have ventured to the center of the state, the sheer striped-ness of the region was overwhelming. Here, on the coast, we live in the green stripe. As you drive east, all of a sudden you are in the white stripe (didn't see Jack nor Meg any where though), with snow coming down in the mountains. Just when you're getting used to that, whammo- it's green again. And then, another imaginary line is crossed and you are up to your eyeballs in brown. Kennewick, where the conference was, can be described as a monolithic shade of brown. I mean, if I were naked in Kennewick, I would be invisible due to the camoflaging effects. Bee-rown in the hizzy.

2. So, my friend S and I found the conference center (which was brown), went inside (the brown walls), and registered for the conference (on brown carpet). Then, we released ourselves into the throng of librarians and swam amongst them like salmon in muddy brown water. After a long afternoon of learning us some new librarian schtick, we decided to bust out and find ourselves a nice dinner somewhere in town. Catch a little local flavor, say howdy to the townies, perhaps get caught on tape in a Librarians Gone Wild video. We looked in our handy Kennewick city guide, and found an ad for a restaurant that went something like this: "Mountain River Pub, a quaint, cozy pub in a renovated storefront. Join us for an elegant meal in historic downtown Kennewick." Ah, that sounds heavenly. We drove out to historic downtown Kennewick. And, my apologies to anyone who has a soft spot for historic downtown Kennewick, but I have to tell you. It was a scary railyard. And the quaint pub? It looked like an abandoned storage facility where librarians who enter are never heard from again. We had to pass it up for thai food in a strip mall. Sorry historic pub. Local flava is all good, but if it looks like Chuckie lives in the restaurant, I'm not down with that.

3. That night, we went to see the keynote speaker, Diane Rehm from NPR. You know, the gracious interviewer who sounds like she is two billion years old? I gotta tell you something, and I mean this in the most respectful way possible. Diane Rehm was hhhot. She looked nothing like she sounds on the radio. She was downright smokin'. She didn't even look like photos that I've seen of her. If I can someday reach a level of geriatric hotness of even half that level, I will count myself lucky. So, in addition to being gracious, intelligent, and inspiring, which we already knew she was, she was bug-out sexy. Who knew? Hey Diane! Woot!

4. The following morning, I got dudded up and arrived for my session, where I was to give my presentation. The turn-out was good, and I managed to stay right within my time constraints despite the fact that there was no clock any where to be found in the room. I didn't drool or fall down or accidentally insult anyone's mother, which are all plusses in my book. Hey Librarian Girl! Woot!

The rest of the day was full of other interesting sessions, oily fettucini, and wondering what the heck I'm going to do with another conference tote bag. By late afternoon, I was back on the road to Seattle, and by evening I was back in the green. I love being home. Love, love, love it. Hey Seattle! Woot!

Kiss the rings, I'm out.
Librarian Girl