Facebook has revamped its privacy settings, allowing you to control who-sees-what of what you post there. I can now post pictures, for example, that only my mother can see. I can post the link to an article just for my liberal friends, and another article for the conservative ones. Or I can post under the 'default' setting - which is 'everyone'.
Blogs have no such controls. If you post it, it's posted. "Privacy Settings" are exercised by not posting. . . .
All this is by way of explaining why I haven't been posting lately. I imagine that words and pictures that include other people inevitably give rise to differing privacy expectations. As soon as I sort out the different expectations, I'll be back.
Meanwhile, there's a Christmas tree at the Greenwood.
It's the first Christmas tree I've put up since Nana died - and that's been a long time ago now. She died on Thanksgiving Day, 1992 I think it was. I'll have to check with my brother, our family's 'historian'. He remembers things like that. I remember sitting in the library of the I house I lived in then, playing Moonlight Sonata on the white piano stenciled with what turned out to be poison ivy vines. I was crying. I remember peeling potatoes into a paper sack in the living room, overcome then with feeling and the words: "It's all right. Everything is all right." And crying again. But a good crying that time. Smiling and tears. . . . and then the phone call that she was gone.
On the tree are little knitted mice - like she might have made, except I did. And stars. The one on top is knitted! Yes, he's rotund. Delightfully so!
Then: old keys. I've collected them for years. Perhaps it's a privacy thing, but from the opposite perspective: I am fascinated with what they might open. . . .