For Mom

Mom-

This blog is my gift to you for your birthday. I know that the last six months or so have been particularly tough for you, since not everyone has been reliable, you've lost a lot of your security, you've had to work harder than normal and you've suffered some real losses. All of this means that you really deserve a treat. I know you said that you wanted to save up to buy you a new ring, but this gift didn't cost me anything, I swear on Dad's beloved bamboo fly rods.
I made this blog especially to make your stamping business easier and give you a fun way to reach your clients. I made it purple especially for you. If you don't like the layout or colors or whatever, I can redesign it or show you the program I used (it's very easy) to help you remake it.
When we get a chance, I'd like to set up an account for you so that you can access this blog. (Are you on Google accounts? I already tried and was unable to get through.) If you'll let me, I'll stay on this account as a team member so that I can help you update it. There's lots of stuff you can use this blog for. You're welcome to look at my blog to get a sense of what's out there.
Don't be afraid to use this. It's fairly simple, only slightly more challenging than email. And you deserve it for all your hard work and for being so supportive of me through my difficult time. I really appreciate it.

-Your Loving Daughter

Testing Post

This post is a test.



O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

This concludes the test post.  Now back to your regularly scheduled blogging.