It wasn’t the venue. Though Opryland is vast and beautiful.

It wasn’t the sessions. Though the information was thought-provoking.

It wasn’t the sponsors. Though the swag was and is ah-may-zing.

It wasn’t the food. Though lunch at the Volare was palate enlightening.

It wasn’t the parties. Though the (in)Courage party left me without words–it was that beautiful.

It was the people.

The people were the magic of Blissdom.

Clockwise, beginning top left: with Hillary, who makes me laugh–with Annie, who let me crash on her couch(es) and for whom there are no words to describe–sweet, beautiful Lisa, with whom my heart is knit–with Lora Lynn and Aubrey, my other two Annie’s House roomies, who crack me up and who I wish I could be with rightthissecond–crazy picture with Christine, whom I met on the pre-conference plane to Nashville–Kimba and Lisa, preparing for their session, which they totally nailed–posing pretty with Emily, because, well, maybe we wanted it to look like a blue-speckled-background studio shot? Center: the masses watching Harry perform.

These are the only pictures I took with my own camera. I was too intent on talking with these women to remember to document the event.

There are at least thirty other people I wish I had caught on camera. There are hundreds of quick connections and a handful of depth-of-heart conversations I long to keep in forever record. There are moments and emotions I yearn to bottle and preserve.

Their stories, their laughter, their quietness. Their hearts aligning, face to face, with the powerful person I’ve known (or will know) through their written word.

A person is so much more than what fills the page when they press “publish.”

Truly, it wasn’t about the conference, unspeakably amazing though it was.

It was the people who took my breath away.

Have you ever met someone in a face to face encounter when you’d only ever known them through their written words? Was it what you expected it to be?

Call me crazy.

It suits me fine.

Five days ago I was driving across the country on what has been the largest-scale move we’ve made yet—and that’s with moving five times in five and a half years of marriage.

I was in Colorado for two whirlwind days. We unloaded the moving truck. (When I say “we,” I mean “they,” because I had nothing more to do with it than to smile and nod and say “Thank you, thank you so much, you wonderful, beautiful people .”) We unpacked a box or two. We froze our batooties off in the single digit and negative temps. We dug around and found the snow boots. We dug around and never found the one box that says OPEN FIRST.

And now? I’m in Nashville. At the Blissdom conference.

I. Know.

My three guys have sent me off for a weekend filled with people who speak my language without batting an eye and give hugs like they’re free candy, while the three of them are back at home—new home, that is—making snow angels with the cousins and eating Grandma’s warm comfort food.

It’s all a bit surreal—I hopped on a plane in Denver and ran into two other Blissdom ladies on my flight. We had no problems chatting it up for the next couple hours, all while drooling over Rebecca’s baby. I’m staying with sweet and hilarious Annie, whom I saw for the first time on her doorstep but could almost swear we’ve met in another (pretend) life. I’m meeting up with older friends, newer friends, bloggie buddies and soon-to-be buddies, and a whole lotta people I recognize and try to get up the nerve to meet. (Oh, blog-ebrity, how thou amusest me!) I’m going out of my comfort zone as a blog conference newbie and slipping back into it when I see people I know.

Call me crazy. Because this is crazy awesome.

Well, they came.

Behold, The Fake Boots.

I guess technically they aren’t fake boots. Because they’re still boots. They’re just fake Uggs.

Or are they?

I really have no clue.

I haven’t studied real Uggs enough to know whether or not these are noticeably counterfeit, or if they’re going to scream “KNOCK OFFS” with every step. Perhaps you people with, AHEM, real ones could tell me? Do they look real?

In the same vein, I do have a bit of a winter shoe related problem.

(A brief note: I do, in fact, realize that it is almost February and that winter is on its way OUT in most parts of the country. Or at least headed in that direction, especially if we used the clothing stores as a guide, what with their SPRING!! clothes on the racks while we are all still freezing our toes off. BUT, in the mountain town of 10,000+ feet elevation where I’ll be living as of next week, winter is in full swing. And will be. Until May. Just to clarify. Move along now.)

Apparently, according to the Australian vs. American duel that went on in the comments of the last fake boot related post, these boots may or may not be the way to go for a winter shoe. Now, keep in mind, I’m not at all planning on wearing these as a snow boot, per se, as I have spent enough time in snow to know that these aren’t exactly fit for glacier scaling or even really doing much outdoor walking. But I wanted something warm for places where my real snow boots, fashionable though they are, aren’t very appropriate.

But it seems people (and by people I mean my mother as well as certain blog readers) have very strong opinions on the winter shoe.

So I ask: What do you wear for a good winter shoe in times that do not involve landing your foot in knee-deep snow, but still require more than, you know, a flip flop?

Help a SoCal girl out. Please and thank you.

Also, it is very evident to me that I need more shoe suggestions being that when packing my closet tonight, I discovered I own no fewer than…

…wait for it…

FIFTY-TWO pairs of shoes.

That is not a typo.

Being that (disclaimer ahead) at least a third of those are flip-flops or flimsy sandals of some sort, and the rest are either some sort of heel and such or one of the pairs of really nice western boots I bought and wore once or the crazy expensive suede clogs I’ve had for ten years and have worn thrice but don’t have the heart to part with because they were from my grandmother or they’re fancy ball gown wearing shoes or they’re Easter-to-Labor Day-only shoes (pause to breathe) I clearly need some suggestions for wearing-in-a-mountain-town-in-winter shoes.

Clearly.

So, toss some suggestions at me. Mostly because I’m just curious and want to know how many pairs of shoes you own or what types of shoes you like to wear.

Also, today I’m over at YLCF talking about the complete wonderfulness (word invention comes naturally to me) of having a mother’s helper. Which is fitting because, this very week, one of the very girls I mention in the post will be a blessing of that exact sort while I run some last minute move-related errands, get my three-inch-long roots re-colored, drink some Starbucks and, well, to be honest… look for a new pair of shoes.

Red ones, as a matter of fact. Platform, preferably. For an event.

There aren’t any of those in my footwear arsenal.

Fifty-THREE. Ba-da-BING!