The Downside of being POB

POB has never really embraced this blog.

She has grown accustomed to it, as one does a dull pain in the neck.  Sometimes, she is afraid of what I will write; I seem to have a more inclusive sense of what is an appropriately bloggable moment.  It is a boundary thing: I have few (for better or for worse) and POB has a few more (for better or for worse).

SIDEBAR:  Even I have boundaries.  Some of the Soeurs were shocked to hear that there is such a thing as an unbloggable moment.  Yes, there are life moments too intimate, too painful, too sad, to share.  And there are moments that can’t be shared yet.

I think what really got to POB this week was that at each event she attended — lunch, coffee, gathering — she started to tell a story and someone would say, “Oh, yeah, I read about that on the blog!!”  She has her own way of telling a story and her own viewpoint.  “Why can’t I tell stories my own way, without worrying that you blogged about it first?!”

Why?  Well, dear POB, for the simple reason that I may not be there to correct you.

If you write it, it is real.