What that means is that for two or so years, I followed blogs without posting any remarks and wishing I had a community of people around me to talk to; at 3 a.m. or 11 at night, like they had. What a great feeling of belonging that must bring, to have people around you, all different kinds of people, to be in your life and part of your life. I wanted that community. Instead, I'd watch with my nose pressed up against the window, wishing I could be part of all the fun and friendships I'd see.
A blogger that I followed silently, and I say followed silently not lurking because since I didn't know you could comment it can't be called lurking if you have no idea you're doing it, was Ann Imig of Annsrants.
I followed her home from a comment ( a VERY clever, smart ass-y one) at another blogger's place (that blogger will be spotlighted also).
After reading Ann for awhile, she-- knowing nothing about me since, again, the no commenting rule that I thought existed that didn't exist -- celebrated her first year of blogging, a blogging anniversary. A blogoversary, she called it. It was the first time I heard that word and I thought she came up with it herself. So dang creative.
This post on her one year from 2009 still makes me laugh. Aside from how very funny and representative of Ann's delicious humor this is, the best part of this anniversary post were the comments. I read all the bloggers commenting on her site that day in celebration of knowing her; all the love, the high fives, the (((( )))) which I didn't know WHAT THE HECK that was *I thought it was bewbs*. But, still, I could decode enough to figure out virtual hugs and sincere happiness that Ann was a blogger.
I scrolled through all the comments on her first *blogoversary* post (Ann, I thought this was your word and you were so wondrous to think of it), and I wanted that. What she had: people to share my life with. People that I would be happy to know, and that would be just as happy to know me.
Ann Imig kept me in her cozy, sweet internet world, even when she had no idea she was doing that.
I enjoyed her so-good-she-should-be-in-a-magazine humor, her sharp, quick essays, *my favorite of her posts: the middle school columnist series*. She had me smirking with her total deep shenanigan nonsense on occasion. Her skillful writing on current issues made me think about my position on things political. Ann was that someone to sit and share my morning coffee with over a lonely winter.
I finally grew tired of being too scared to start a blog, so in 2010, I began blogging. Which meant I could comment on blogs now! (shuttup)-- naturally, I began commenting at Annsrants. She had no idea I had been reading her for over a year when I did show up.
And you know what? Even though I was a year late to the party, Ann Imig and the kind of people that follow Ann Imig, made me feel like I had been there since the beginning.
Thank you, Ann, for giving so much to so many.
As the creator of the inspiring National Listen To Your Mother Shows, you have helped us find our voices; you gave me my voice to tell my story on May 8, 2011, at the LTYM show in Madison -- a day that felt like I was in someone else's life. You've kept us warm with laughter from some of the best tweets in the twitterverse, undoubtedly why you were voted #1 funniest twitter mom by babble.com. It's happily sad that I smile on the nights when I am so beat I fall asleep with my clothes on and think just like Ann said on twitter, "Yesterday's clothes are the new pajamas."
Ann Imig: the world is a better place because you are in it. And I say that with grateful tears in my eyes.
|Ann Imig: stay at home humorist and 'Sconnie Jewess|
**This blogger was one of the handful so implicit in my making it through the winters and the seasonal depression they bring, before I began my own blog in 2010 and became a part of this incredible online community. During this month, I'll be highlighting the bloggers I call "The Great Depression Slayers of 2010." To the crucial ones I clung to before I began blogging, the ones that pulled me through, I thank you.