Giving birth

This is all quite new to me. I've been hanging out at my daughter's blog for months now and some of her readers seem to think I may have enough of my own material to hold court elsewhere. Thanks, guys! I hope I can live up to the expectation. Be gentle with me until I find my groove.

Here I am, pushing and shoving to bring forth my firstborn and not even knowing whether it's a boy or girl. It seems to be a girl from all the pink on this page that, guess who, chose for me. Thanks, David and Jenn! Having graphic artists in the family is not a bad perk.

The kids know that I'm PC challenged. Sure, I sit at the darn things all day long in my office. But I confess that I've never learned how they work. I just have great expectations. Turn on the machine, let it blink back at me, and I bless it with a little "hello computer" and off we go!

Last night I panicked ... I played around with some new photoshow material (I do experiment, just to give myself some bragging rights among the younger generation). Well, some strange error screen with a yellow triangle and exclamation point popped up and refused to leave my domain. And there's one thing I'm proud of - I'm queen of my domain. Begone, confounding error screen! I tried everything in my bag of tricks (very basic tricks, believe me) but the yellow triangle continued to wink back at me. What a tease! I was going to perform the ultimate act of mercy. Can you get arrested for performing euthanasia on your computer?! Instead of pulling the plug, I finally found a way to shut down and reboot. Hallelujah, the burr under my saddle was gone when I rebooted. Oh yes, if you come around here and start to read my blog, you might as well know now: I have a penchant for metaphor and hyperbole. It's my ENFP nature. You've been warned. Understatement is not my bag. And I subscribe to the family motto: "Why let truth get in the way of a good story?"

Thanks to all the midwives at breed 'em and weep including Karli at Mom on a Wire, who inspired me to get blogging. Thank you, dear hearts.

To celebrate this momentous occasion, I just phoned my daughter, the breeder and weeper. However, she didn't have time to indulge me. Today she's in weeping mode as the dog has had diarrhea during the night and she's busy cleaning up the kitchen floor. I'll let Jenn tell the rest of that tale. After all, it's her story, not mine. And she's much more into the whole poo thing than I am. God, that sounds perverted.

In the meantime, my story is just beginning. Hang around. This could get interesting.