I have a Server?

Clueless Baby Boomer here—who’s trying to learn the ropes of the intimidating Internet. It’s scary. I mean it. Especially when you don’t know what the heck you’re doing—like me.

Although, to be fair to myself, I would be a lot less clueless had it not been for several lost years due to a botched surgery—that was scary. While everyone else was setting up websites, blogs, and other stuff that I don’t know about, I was learning how to read again.

But . . . I digress. This is no pity party. After all, I didn’t invite anyone with a chip on her shoulder—so—let’s get to business.

server

“I have a server?” I asked my thirty-something daughter over the phone. She was trying to help me get un-lost on the Internet.

Daughter: Huge exhale. “Yessssss.”

Me: “Well, where is he? Or is it a she? And if I have a server how come I have to get my own drinks? Huh? Tell me that.

Daughter: “An Internet server.”

Me: “So? What’s the difference?”

Daughter: “To be able to even log onto the Internet, you must have a server. Find out who your server is.”

Me: “That’s why I called you. How do I do that? My server’s so bad, he hasn’t even shown up yet.”

Daughter: Dead silence, except for hearing a familiar moan.

Daughter: “Look for an icon on your screen that has . . . “

Me: She went on and on about how I should look for some weird icons or something. I stopped listening the minute she said icon. What the heck is an icon? When she finally finished her instructions, I said, “What the heck is an icon?”

Daughter: “I give up. I’ll come over and show you.”

Me: “You mean you’re gonna be my server?”

She hung up. Can you believe that? She hung up on her very own mother. How dare she? I only hung up on my mother when she frustrated the crud . . . out . . . of . . . me-

Um, could that be the reason for the hang up? Surely I wasn’t annoying like my mother.

I pulled at my chin while in deep thought. No. I came to the conclusion: She hung up so she could come over and be my server. What a wonderful daughter I raised. I wonder if she’ll bring me a Diet Pepsi with lots of ice while she serves me.

Find LaRae at http://www.amazon.com/author/laraeparry

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