Crashing a Press Conference

I was on twitter one morning. Don't laugh...it is my contact with grownup types in the microseconds between the kid, the preteen, and the teen's swim practices. About ten minutes. Tops. My kids would beg to differ, but that is because all three want to use my computer, right now!

I saw a tweet in my twitter stream about a press conference at a farm literally on the same road as my house. The conference was about buying local produce and meat for local restaurants. The tweeter did not mention a start time. I tweeted the person back even though laundry, dishes, and many other mind numbing household tasks were calling my name, but did not get a tweet back. A few unanswered phone calls later, I was no closer to finding out the time of the press conference.

I decided to take a chance on the universal start time of morning events -- 10 a.m. But, what to do about the fact that I had no invitation. No problem. I quickly showered and dug out a semi-presentable outfit. I have spent the summer in ratty swim team shirts, equally threadbare shorts, and a pair of seen-better days flip flops. I'm a vision of loveliness, I tell you. It felt good to be dressed as a grownup.

The farm -- Larriland_Farms -- is a popular place for local types and folks who drive in from DC and Baltimore. Yep, I'm a country bumpkin. But, this country bumpkin enjoys the duality of being able to pick my own fruit at local farms OR buy it from grocery store. I live in an unspoiled, cautiously developed section of Howard_County -- the best of both worlds.

Once at the press conference, I strolled up to the tent and microphone stand with notebook in hand. The notebook is the universal sign of "I'm a reporter who is ready to record every excruciating detail." No one gave me a second glance. In fact, at least 3 people came up to me, handed me a press kit, and asked me if I had any questions. I was loving the attention.

As the press conference ended, I schmoozed with the best of 'em. It was like old home week as I chatted with a group of 4H-ers who are at our local high school, and with a mom who is an assistant at my child's elementary school. The 4-H mom looked at me with a look that said "What are you doing here?" I answered her unanswered question by identifying myself as a mommy blogger and writer for DC_Metro_Moms. I was on a roll.

I chatted to a swim team dad who is a farmer and makes honey for Larriland Farms. I continued my charade as Jill Berry, Mommy Blogger, throughout the time I was there. I initiated conversations with the Director of Communications for the county, a couple of restaurant owners, two editors of a local business journal, and a couple of interns. In fact I started to school the interns on the value of twitter as a way to connect with PR-types if the two wanted to find communications jobs. The interns looked slightly bewildered as I blathered on and on. What can I say...it has been some time since I was anything other than a mom who does a bit of writing and product reviews on the side.

On a serious note I love the Grow Local Buy Local movement. From July 27 through August 9, Howard County will host Summer Restaurant Weeks, where residents and visitors can dine at Howard County restaurants.

Original post to DC Metro Moms.

When not masquerading as a reporter, Jill blogs at Musings on raising a kid, a preteen, and a teen.