Today is my daddy's 86th birthday.
Holy cow, that's old. I guess the good news is that in the eyes of Monkey Man, Grandpa isn't as old as John McCain. Ahem.
I guess it's all a matter of perspective.
Tomorrow, Monkey Man and I hit the road on a mission to go visit my parents for the weekend. As much as I am dreading the drive by myself (and no, it isn't very far but I am a spoiled wimp who hates to drive there by my lonesome), my parents are so damn excited that they can barely stand it. I'm just hoping their air conditioning is set a little lower than the balmy 80 degrees that they prefer. If it gets bad enough, there is a Marriott Courtyard about 3 miles away that I'll gladly check in to. There is no point in showering just to be soaked in sweat trying to dry your hair, right?
When I called this morning to wish him a happy birthday, he fessed up that my mom had woken him up at 7 AM to clean the damn garage. Know why he did it? She promised to take him for pizza for his birthday. The man loves him some pizza. I guess I know his currency now, huh?
There are a lot of things about my dad that I admire. And that I'm thankful for. The biggest thing is that I inherited his personality and the ability to find humor even when things aren't so good. Oh, and also the propensity to always be worried about where our next meal is coming from. We obviously have our priorities completely straight.
Happy birthday, Dad. You mean the world to me.