I launched myself on Facebook six months ago. What a wise decision that was. I now have more friends than at any time in my life — 48 to be exact.

 Some Facebookers have hundreds of friends, which makes my 48 look paltry. That’s OK. I’ve strived for quality over quantity.

I log onto Facebook each evening to check out what my friends are up to. Their postings are nothing if not fascinating.

I learned last night that former Register reporter Sean in Massachusetts is “thinking of smoking a brisket tomorrow.”

That former Register reporter Cristina in SoCal is feeling the pangs and pride that come with being a military wife.

That neighbor Diana is back from the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer, having helped to raise $6 million for cancer research.

That Elisabeth in west Napa had posted a photo of a foot-long cucumber harvested from her garden.

That another Napan had invited me to take the quiz, “Which Liquor Are You?”

My Facebook home page included an invitation to become a fan of Bounty Hunter Wine Bar and Smokin’ BBQ.

Also, did I want to befriend Jenny Courtney, whose photo is that of actor Forest Whitaker in his hit-man role in the movie “Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai”?

I chuckled. Daughter Jenny always liked “Ghost Dog.”

It felt nothing but nice to hear from my friends, although truthfully, many are more virtual than real. Nearly half are former Register co-workers who have scattered across America. Many I haven’t seen in years.

In some cases, I know them better through Facebook than when they were sitting at desks opposite mine. I now hear about their hobbies, their trips to the gym, their planned barbecues.

In the early days of Facebook, I agonized over whom to befriend. If I accepted all offers, I feared my friends list would eventually mimic the AT&T phone book — losing all meaning.

I’m still agonizing.

If I’ve met you through my job as a reporter, I probably don’t want to be your friend, even if you’re a wonderful human being. Being a reporter is all about staking out, then defending boundaries.

It’s not enough that you were once my co-worker, either. When I close my eyes and conjure up your image, do I smile, or does my brain flatline?

Inviting/accepting/rejecting people is not an exact science. Sometimes a person has so much charisma I’ve violated my own rules. My reward: postings that are engaging, sometimes inspiring. In essence, a cut above.

Mistakes have been made. Over time, certain postings by certain people consistently thrilled me not. In one case, a supposed friend developed a exuberant fondness for the ‘F’ word.

I’ve read that it’s bad form to delete friends. You think they won’t notice, but they will. Why trigger hurt?

For a long time, I obeyed that advice. I applied the “hide” function, which allowed me to keep friends, but never read them.

Then one day I logged on in a cranky mood. Was I a mouse man? Did I not have the courage to take charge my Facebook account?

Whack, whack, whack. Five people gone, just like that.

Only one deletee has ever come back at me. What happened? he said. I was your friend and now I’m not.

I was able to level with him. You’re a public official, I said. I’m not supposed to be friends with public officials. Our Facebook relationship never should have happened.

He took it well.

I’m adding friends at an ever-slower rate. Of late, several neighbors, an associate pastor. I may invite a few cousins into the Facebook fold.

Most of my Facebook friends rarely post anything. Not a peep. A few are prolific. My own postings are sporadic.

Like Mr. Brisket for Dinner, some report the minutia of daily life. I don’t. I am reluctant to reveal my boring essence.

Then again, a boring detail sometimes slips out. I can hear my Facebook friends do a collective yawn.

When Cheryl opened her own Facebook account this spring, we did not sign up as friends. We chat plenty in person and in e-mails. Did we need Facebook, too?

That was my initial thought. Then, like everything else about Facebook, I discovered I was of another mind or two.

Cheryl became Facebook friend No. 45.

Kevin can be reached at 256-2217 or Napa Valley Register,  P.O. Box 150, Napa 94559 or kcourtney@napanews.com