I had no intention of writing a recap post for Blend 2014.
For real, I know everybody and their mother is going to be getting in on this action and far be it from me to get on people’s mothers. That’s just awkward and highly inappropriate.
I don’t want to follow the herd either and share a bunch of photos and lovely sentiments where I say I love every single person I met there in Park City, Utah, and it was the best weekend of my life. Obviously these ladies have never spent time with the Hubby because man’s got skillz with a Z, and as I much as I love those gals, that’s one itch they can’t scratch.
Instead, I will say there was highs and lows, with emphasis on the highs, although not the illegal kind because that would have been a whole different retreat, probably in Colorado. Come to think of it, next year’s conference has been moved to Boulder. Hmm.
The lows were mostly the squats at the 7 a.m. workouts, of which I attended only one, the altitude which sucked all moisture out of my body, so maybe it was best the Hubby wasn’t around because chaffing, and the lack of music, which is why I thought a recap called Blend To Music might have been a good idea. Then I went and looked at all my photos and realized I had almost none, except for the hiking trip, and a post centered completely on The Hills are Alive to the Sound of Music might be a bit much, even for me.
Equally as awkward as me in a habit singing down the mountain, and my singing probably could take down a mountain, would be skipping a recap post altogether. What would be people think? ‘Eh, that actually doesn’t bother me so much, but it would appear as if my lovely audience wants me to say a few words and tell a few tales, so I decided what better way than to share some blogging secrets. Yes, I’m about to give you the Blend back story because I’m that kind of girl.
- These bloggers can’t keep their paws off of giant animals. I’m telling you it was borderline obscene. So was the number of selfies taken.
- Spoons is a greater kisser. Just kidding…. or am I?
- Blend is marketing mania and mayhem, and I was completely unprepared for that aspect. I’d like to think I learned something but my head is now swimming with social media love via Tweets, Hashtags and Instagram handles. #holymarketingbatman
- Sam is a self-professed crier, which I’m sure has nothing to do with the fact that our combined initials are S&M, and we spent some time strapped together.
- I’m taller than Laura which you really can’t see in this picture, but I swear it’s true. We’ll gloss over the fact her bicep could eat mine for breakfast and that she also managed to turn her non-ass ass into an ass. #assenvy. Oh look, I’m already getting better at this hashtag thing.
- If left unattended, Broccoli will try to get you liquored up and cause you to miss your plane ride home, successfully too I might add.
- Everybody had Lindsay Cotter’s balls in their mouth at one point or another, myself included. My favorite was the hidden gems inside. #espressobeans #whatwereyouthinking #youanimalyou #ilikeit
- Healthy Living Bloggers are obsessed with the movie Frozen, Whole Foods and Café Rio. Sure the food was good, but this vegetable lover was missing her fajita veggies. They did give me lots of cilantro though.
- They’re a bunch of dirty birdies. They work out and then eat breakfast, while sitting in a pool of their own sweat. To be fair, I did most of the sweating, but I also showered before stuffing my face.
- For some reason, they kept calling me the #publicbanana girl. Weird, am I right?
Since I happily revealed all their secrets, I should probably share one of my own. Even though they specifically included “underthings” on the Blend packing list (#notevenjoking), I failed to bring the right pair for my little black dress, which means I went commando to the cocktail party. Thankfully, I didn’t have to climb out of any cars because that would have been a whole different show with a rather kinky sponsor.
Have you ever attended a blogging retreat? Would you want to? If you were there this weekend, share one secret. I promise not to tell.