Phone conversation with my brother on the day after I published my most recent post, one about my dad:
Sarah: Y'know, so-and-so is on Facebook and knew both of our parents -- in certain ways probably better than we do, because he (or she) knew them as contemporaries, not as parent figures. Do you think he (or she) reads my blog? I wonder whether he (or she) would ever comment on a post about either one of them?
Sarah's Brother: Nope.
Sarah: Why not?
Sarah's Brother: Because he (or she) is too classy.
Sarah: (Blink.) (Blink.) Uhh, so by extension I'm not so classy, huh? Because I'm telling all? Airing our dirty laundry, as it were?
Sarah's Brother: Oh, that's different. Because, well, you're a writer. An artist.
Sarah (laughing): So if you take crap and wrap it in pretty paper and some nice ribbon, it's OK then? In the name of art?
Sarah's Brother: Pretty much. Did you go in our Words With Friends game?*
*OK, so I'm conflating two conversations here, dear brother. But I'm allowed to do that, right? In the name of art?