Lost and Found by Ginny L. Yttrup Page A

(yee-haw!). If you can get past the "christianese," this is a blog to watch. Join in the citywide fun and guess the blogger's identity. Will she reveal herself? Go to www.urbanitysf.com/blogger for contest details.
    "I hope she has advertisers, cause this chick's blog is going to get some hits this week. Way to make your blog pay off, babe, whoever you are." I look again at the URL and go sit at my desk and key in the address. The blog header is a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge shrouded in fog, and below the picture is the title: Iluminar .
    Spanish for illuminate .
    The blog is nondescript otherwise. I scroll down. No advertisers. The reviewer referenced her life of privilege—maybe this blogger thinks she doesn't need the money? Stupid. What a waste. No links. No bio. Nothing. Just entry after entry and icons linking to her social networking pages, which I check. They're also set up under the pseudonym. I check the comments on a few entries. Yep, she has followers. Lot's of them, it looks like. The comments read like an ongoing conversation with [email protected] responding to and reengaging her readers.
    "This thing is a moneymaker and she's clueless."
    Sam hisses in response.
    I hit the archives, find her first entry, and begin reading. The entries are journal-like. Raw. Vulnerable. And yeah, they sort of read like a soap opera. But she writes well. Maybe it's her vulnerability, so rare in this city, that draws the reader in.
    Draws me in.
    I read several more entries. "Christianese? Geez, no kidding." I expect to see judgment in her responses to those who challenge her beliefs, but there is none. She doesn't touch on any of the issues either—she's not using the blog as a platform for the usual fundamentalist stuff. Nor is she defensive about what she believes. Her responses to readers' questions and challenges are straightforward, compassionate even.
    "She's hitting a nerve. A felt need of some sort." I think about the blog I write and the many followers who comment and submit questions. In this economy, the advice I offer fills a need. But, I don't receive as many comments as this chick. And why, excuse me, is Urbanity featuring her when they could feature a blog like mine? After all, I'm one of their own now. "C'mon, people. Give your own writers a leg up."
    I close the window and type in the address for Urbanity and find the contest information mentioned in the review. For the best guess, they're giving away an all-expenses paid weekend at Auberge du Soliel in Rutherford with spa credits, a bottle of wine, and dinner for two at the resort's famed restaurant. There's $1,000 additional cash prize if the blogger comes forward if she is identified.
    I shake my head. "That's a chunk of change you're offering. Ridiculous."
    I stare at the screen and think again of the entries I've just read. I can't stand it that, whoever this woman is, she's letting a prime financial opportunity slip through her fingers. So what if she's rich? I don't care if she's Oprah rich, J. K. Rowling rich, or the Queen of flippin' England rich. Why let an opportunity to make money pass you by? Especially one this easy. Urbanity' sset her up. Why miss the opportunity?
    I mouse over the history tag and click back to the blog site. I leave a comment for [email protected]:
    Let me illuminate you. You're missing a nice financial opportunity with your blog. E-mail me for details at [email protected].
    My e-mail address—my name—speaks for itself. I'm known for my financial advice. I'm not scamming her. Though I'd love to be the one to out her. I'm not, as a contributor to Urbanity , eligible for the contest, but why not see if I can lure her anyway? "We love a good game of cat and mouse, don't we, Sam?" I turn in my chair and see Sam, curled up in his bed on my office floor, snoring. "Such disdain, Sam."
    I close the window on the blog, then get up from my desk, stretch my arms wide, twist my torso, and then bend and