I'm leaving in a few hours to go to a conference in Austin. I need the kick in the pants it will provide. Mower and I have a tradition, though, of getting into a huge fight either right before, right after, or both right before and right after a conference. If we don't fight, somehow I injure myself. I went to Scottsdale, Arizona on crutches for a broken toe that I couldn't bear weight on (and had the coolest bruise from--I love bruises. Yes, I know I'm weird.) This time, we have fought over a containment area for Fuzzy the Mop and I have managed to get a comma-shaped bruise on my shin from the truck door swinging back and hitting me hard.

I am not really looking forward to the conference, although once I get there, it will be nice to be 100% involved in business. That will help my mindset for when I come home, and can only help our businesses. The thing, other than missing the kids and wondering if they are eating beef jerky and drinking O'Doul's under Mower's care, that I am not looking forward to at all is seeing someone I know and either 1) don't care for in the least, or 2) know and like but am ashamed to see how little I've grown in business since I last saw them. I know, I know, I shouldn't compare, and where I am now is just fine, but still.

Time to go pack and forget my deodorant or toothbrush or something. Never fails. And I always remember fifteen minutes into the trip, right as I have gotten onto the highway and into some nasty traffic it would take an hour to get out of just to turn back home. A maxi pad isn't worth it.