An Open Letter To A Blogger (Not You.)

Dear Well Known Blogger: (No, not you, or you, or you.) (Quit it! It’s not you!!!)

I read you for a couple of months a year or so ago. I liked your writing and you had a great back story. Very sad, indeed. But you wrote it well. I followed you on the twit and Facebook. I wanted to know you. I really wanted to like you. I imagined gleefully meeting somewhere, having a beer. I wanted to like you as a person, not just a bloggy face.

But then…

Well, I have issues with the whole social media thing. I do. This spring I bore witness to the worst aspects of it, when a blogger got bullied and chest butted by another blogger’s husband over what I consider something so benign as to be laughable. On twitter. For the world to see. What I found so incredibly disturbing was that this was a case of cyber-bullying, in essence, by a person that brands himself as a family man. I think I get it. He mistakenly thought he was standing up for his wife, yet the way he went about it left me to wonder what he would have done if he’d had physical access to the person that offended him.

Is this what we’ve become? Is social media just the new jungle gym to knock someone else off of? Does anyone think of the embarrassment that they may cause? Or the pain?

Back to you. I stopped following you on the twit after I saw one of your tweets congratulating a country on their killing of a madman. Like Yay! He’s dead! Way to go! That just flat-out gave me pause. If you are a person that advocates for others (which you do), why would you ever tweet about anyone’s death like that? I didn’t get it. I unfollowed you and stopped reading. But like I said, I really wanted to like you. For you.

I just came back to you a few days ago. I was almost excited. Like reconnecting with an old friend. But you did it again. You insulted someone on twitter. Someone that had done a lot of work, laid themselves out in front of people. Someone who didn’t deserve to be made fun of because they were sharing their truth as they see it. You called them a name. I ask you; if that person read your ‘harmless’ little tweet, what do you think they would feel? What if that person made their living this way? Who are you to piss on them?

Again, I think I get it. I’m of the mind that you think you are as famous as The Bloggess. That just maybe, you can call people out and be rude when you feel because you are “famous” and no one will take you to task. Well, I’ve read almost all of Jenny’s work and I will say this. If she has to get into a shitfight, she manages to still do it with humour and dare I say, a semblance of class. If she calls out her minions on twitter, all of us now happy members of The Unicorn Success Club, she also can call us all back. Do you know why? Because we are all nice people. We read her because she has a good heart and like attracts like.

Having said that, if I have to be a social maven who is rude, mean and thinks others are beneath them to be successful at blogging, I guess I want no part of it.

I think I’ll happily stay here in my own dimly lit little corner of the web. I hope you are aware that if I tweet, as I’ve been known to do, the biggest person I make fun of is myself. And I never high-five anyone’s death. I don’t care who it is. That is just bad form.

I think that’s it. If you do read this, I can only hope that you realize that fame is fleeting. Someday soon you’ll be second-hand news. I also hope you learn that an inner censor is not a bad thing. You are better than some of the things you’ve put out to the world.

The Traveling Red Dress

Take a walk with me. Here, hold my hand. Got your snow boots on? Good. It’s miserable out.

The busyness of living has worn me thin like tissue. I’ve wanted to run, fly, somehow, leave it behind.

No. There is too much here, in this life. There is so much that makes my heart skip a beat. So much that makes me want to stand still and listen. Watch. So much that makes me want to be here. With you. All of you.

I can do this. So can you.

Sometimes all we have to do in this life is show up, be present, and allow the magic to unfold. ~ Unknown.

p.s. Thank you, Jenny, for sending me this beautiful dress. If you know the story of the Red Dress, you will know it has to travel. Please email me at I’m in western Canada and hope to get this going here.

Love to you.

A Magical Red Dress

This life.

So tricky sometimes.

I’ve been feeling so awful lately. About myself. January. Winter. Life.

Chug/groan,chug/groan,chug/groan. Hear it? Sounds like the noise anti-lock brakes make on an icy road. To me, it’s the sound of my depression creeping up. I can hear it. Doing everything I can to keep it at bay. But the snapping of its jaws, its hot breath, I feel it on the back of my neck.

Doing everything I can.

Today? Well, I have this blog hero. An inspiration. Someone that without her even knowing kept me from slipping into the abyss for the last couple of years. Jenny over at She has made me laugh, cry, feel good about life when there isn’t much else that can do it.

She has her battles. But she gets very creative about her sorrow. A while ago, she did this.

How awesome is that? Then she did this:

The Traveling Red Dress took on a life of its own. It started traveling around the U.S., touching women, making them feel pretty and special. What an idea.

Today, in the midst of  my gloom I started to look for a dress. A cheap lovely dress. I know a few women that could use it, just to forget real life for one day. To be a princess, a prom queen for one day. To leave it all behind and just be glamorous. I couldn’t find one that wasn’t horribly overpriced or too small. I started to get down, but then, this happened.

I ‘won’ it! I won the red dress!!!!! I get to share this magic!!!! I burst into tears. But, I tell you, this Canadian Red Dress will be matched with one I will purchase on my own. Because I want women out there to feel alive and special and lovely and silly and fun and happy. Just like I’ll get to be for a couple of days. How I feel is indescribable. It may seem strange, but there is power and love in an unknown sisterhood. There is magic in this.

Thank you Jenny, for starting this all. Thank you for making me laugh, keeping me going. You really have no idea what you mean. Some things can’t ever be paid back. But they can be paid forward.

Yes, there will be photos. Yes, the dress will go forward. Yes.

With a little bit more magic in it.