Privacy.

So, for a while at least, this blog is exclusive. Like, for VIP. Like, you have to have gotten a personal invitation from ME to be reading it. And I blame Larry Clark. (Sorry, dude.) He was my only follower whom I didn't know, and I was fine with that, and I kind of thought his spiritual-religious-whackadoo contributions were odd but well-meaning. And then he wrote something about one of my posts being a yummy bon-bon, and my sister Heather and friend Kate were all, "Who is that guy?" and "You've got to close this shiznit up," and "Think of your kids."

And they're being protective, and they're right. Because even if he's writing about bon-bons and doesn't mean anything pervy or even strange by it, it's just about 2010, and the series of tubes that is the internet leaves things too open for me to take any chances, even though I've been pretty strict about not using last names or explicit locations for the past year that I've been writing.

So, if you're reading this, I know you and your email address, and you have passed the security checkpoints that allow you to read about my cute little family (see precious moment, above). If you have friends who have read this in the past or might be interested in my musings and want to get in on the party, send their emails to me and I'll put them on the list. Friends of yours are friends of mine, I think. Just don't use the word "yummy" when you're commenting on my kids. Because that's when my Regulators will mount up.