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.