I am supposed to be updating my website with the new software that is supposed to be allowing me to do it. But the new software has caused my computer to crash 4 times, and when I called support what they told me to do so terrified me (it was those warnings about “back up your hard drive first or you will be sorry” in big red letters. Not to mention the fact that it was a DOS program that wanted to know if I wanted to read it in English or Japanese. Then proceed, it said. Yeah, right.) that I chickened out and called Fred, my friendly computer guru who is going to save me.

Tomorrow.

So in the meantime, I wrote some on Seb and cleaned my house. Mostly I cleaned out two cupboards that have old LPs in them. Remember records? I was amazed at how many we have. Even more I’m amazed at how many we have that aren’t mine. I called my daughter and said, “Do you recognize this?” And read her off names that meant nothing to me. She waxed nostalgic for her ’80s rock and for her Janos Starker and her Pablo Casals cello albums. What a girl who listens to that was doing with Metallica is something I don’t want to think about too closely. She obviously has broader musical taste than her mother whose LPs ranged between the Beatles and folk music with some Haydn cello concertos thrown in. Oh, and a little Faron Young and Merle Travis.

It was definitely a trip down memory lane. The question is: what am I going to do with them? Ebay? A trip in the dark of night to the nearest charity store to drop them surreptitiously by the door and run because I’m afraid they won’t take them otherwise?

Suggestions, anyone? Kate H, I’m sure you’ll have good ideas. You’re a music person.

Remember yesterday when I said things were busy around here?

Well, mostly they were busy at the hospital where a certain little girl was on her way to being born.

Our second granddaughter and newest heroine — Ellie — arrived at a little after 1 a.m. this morning.

Her mom and dad are exhausted. Her other grandparents are exhausted. These grandparents are exhausted. Even the dog is stressed.

Not Ellie.

As you can tell, Ellie seems perfectly content, snuggled in Dad’s arms.

It feels almost like the coda, that last scene at the end of a happily ever after book — the arrival of a baby, a promise of joy to come.

And it is — but in another way it’s a brand-new beginning.

Welcome to the world, Ellie! We’re so glad you’re here.

You may recall that Abby Green sent me a sheep post card from Ireland a few weeks back. She says his name is Eamon. I think he’s a very handsome sheep. Abby doesn’t say what she thinks.

But she has recently returned from a trip to Greece and has sent me a “post card of Eamon’s cousin Stavros.” I expected, as you might imagine, a Greek sheep.

But in fact I have a Greek gentleman of sorts — an alpha hero, mayhap? — with an Irish stamp on him. Apparently the Greeks do not see fit to put their sheep on post cards.

Inasmuch as there is a lot going on around here right now and I don’t have time to be creative, and Spence and Sadie are busy doing filing — or whatever it is they do behind locked doors — I’m going to simply post Stavros.

He does have the look of an alpha hero. There is a lot of character in that face.