My life is an open book... sometimes

As long as the readers of this blog were scattered across the country, and even the world, I never worried much about all the information that comes spewing from my fingertips. Mostly just Internet friends and a smattering of cousins were my regular readers, and that was fine.

I have been pretty careful of what I say here about neighbors, because you know what they say about paybacks.

I've left some very interesting stories out of my blog, even illustrated stories, because it would be an invasion of someone's privacy.

My Sitemeter tells me that I've picked up a couple of readers who live nearby. I've always had one who peeks in once a day or so, but evidently that's one of the neighbors who can't read, because he always stays here zero seconds.

Today a different neighbor spent quite a while reading here, going back over old entries; and it got me thinking: do I really want to put all this out there for people who might know me in real life? Let's face it, if I'm writing this gibberish, and acquaintances are reading it, I am setting myself up to be judged. Because they know all the stuff I'm not telling. They've heard me ranting and raving at trespassers, for instance. Oh yes, the stories they could tell!

So today, I thought about making this a private journal, which only people who have been invited could read. I did not think about it for long, though. I enjoy connecting with new people too much to do that.

I'll be continuing as always.

Welcome, neighbors!

For those of you enjoying my mother's story: her brother, my Uncle Paul, also wrote about his life. So at some future time, I may serialize his story here. I'll have to get permission from his daughter first, though.