I've realized in the past week or so that it is becoming increasingly necessary to develop some sort of signaling system for my friends while Jeff is hospitalized. In the past, my movements were communicated to Jeff, and vice versa, and we frequently checked on each other. We'd ping, verify, and move on, contented that all was well.

Welcome to another one of those can't-speak-publicly entries. I can smart off on solecist but cat.net is for thinking. Make no mistake, that is what this entry is -- thinking through keys -- and I write it with a great deal of worry about how it will go over.

I have never stated my religion publicly on this site. There are reasons for that: among other reasons, I am not sure if there's a name for people like me. In cases of religion, I am negative space, more easily defined by what I'm not than what I am.

I'm not Christian.

I finally have private entries working, and properly!

If you log in to domesticat.net, you'll discover a new-to-you entry. It's got details on how to update the link your RSS feedreader uses so that you'll see all the entries you're entitled to see.

(ObNote for anyone who finds this via a search engine: you want the Simple Access module and the Token Authentication module to make this work.)

I would also like to add this related note: beer drunk in celebration is doubly tasty.

You know me. I make a plan, and I sink into it. I was told yesterday by a friend that he envies my focus, and perhaps it's true; I perceive myself as scatterbrained but maybe it's not so much so as I tend to think. The books scattered across multiple rooms would certainly belie that opinion.Life's been odd lately.

I've been trying to put it into words and have thrown every attempt away; the entry I quickly entitled 'braille night' has been rewritten at least seven times, with every attempt causing me more frustration and leaving me nothing but silence here.

Life's been simple lately. Not honeysuckle simple, but simple enough.It was a necessary change. I haven't said a lot here precisely because I couldn't find the right angle, the correct approach, the perfect turn of phrase that could make it all simple and make it all sound reasonably okay. Because, the truth is, in the end, things are good.

Call it a dilemma: there are parts of my life I don't write about here because they're far too personal, far too private, or sometimes just involve intimate parts of other people's lives. Parts they're not totally comfortable with me sharing—online, or sometimes even in person. Some secrets can be quietly acknowledged among close friends, but some must remain nothing more than stifled whispers in empty rooms.

This way is as appropriate as any to make the introduction: