Dear Daisy,

If you're reading this, it must mean that I'm dead. Spooooooky! Boo!

Or maybe it just means that you found my blog. I suppose that's probably the most likely theory. You found my blog and clicked on the "Daughter, click here first!" link. (It can't hurt to go check on me right now though, just to make sure that I'm not dead. Thanks, babe!)

So, allow me to explain what we have here.

As I write this you're eight and a half years old. It occurred to me today that it's just a matter of time before you find my blog, either just by asking me for the URL or by noticing one of the bookmarks on any one of the computers/cellphones in this house. It also occurred to me that you might not be crazy about everything that I write here, so this entry is my explanation to you.

First, let me explain what this is. You are reading my blog. I don't know if you're reading this at the age of 8.6 or 86, so let me explain what a blog is (just in case blogs don't exist in 2086). It's kind of like a diary except instead of writing what I REALLY feel, I exaggerate for the purposes of humor and self-centeredness. Also, instead of hiding my diary under my mattress (no, there's nothing hidden under my real mattress (don't check the toilet tank!)), I post my blog for the world to see. Of course the world doesn't really read it. A few dozen people stop by each day. Many of them got here by accident, by googling for some phrase like "giganticasses". Those people generally don't come back.

A couple dozen readers do come back on a regular basis though, and although I personally know a handful of them, most of these people are total strangers. They generally enjoy reading my silly posts about the daily events in my life. A few of them have remarked to me that what they most enjoy about my blog is hearing about you.

If you read enough of this blog, you'll notice that I often refer to someone named "Daisy". That's my blog-name for you. I didn't use your real name because I didn't want someone to google you in the future and end up reading my stories about how I used to wipe your butt for you. So I anonymized you. "Daisy" seemed like a name that was as cheerful as you are.

In this blog I make fun of almost everything. I make fun of the government, old people, myself, your mom (I call her "Hank"), you, and anything else I can think of. So, don't be surprised if you find a post that makes fun of you. I love you a lot, but writing a blog filled with posts that just said "I sure do love Daisy today, AGAIN!" wouldn't be very interesting.

Also, you may notice that the "Mike" that I describe in this blog doesn't always seem like your father. Things in this blog tend to be exaggerated and so I come across as somewhat ruder here than I am in real life. I make the kinds of jokes here that just wouldn't be very polite to make in real life. You could argue that it's not polite to make them in a blog either and you'd be right, but it's nice to have a place where you can be a ruder version of yourself. Remember, this is kind of like a diary in that I get to express thoughts here that I wouldn't necessarily blurt out in real life.

Anyway, I can't imagine that you'll be interested in reading this on a regular basis. Surely there's some good TV on, or maybe it's 2086 and you can go enjoy the holodeck. However, if you do read more, and you have any questions about what I've written, please come ask me. You and your mother are my favorite things in the world, but you won't get that impression from reading this blog, so don't get your undies in a bunch (do they wear undies in 2086?) without talking to me first.

Now, go do your homework, or job, or retirement hobbies, or whatever.

I love you, Daisy.