Happy Birthday, Dad!

So, today is my Dad's birthday, and since I now live like a million miles away, I will not be eating cake and ice cream with him, and also I have a birthday card next to me that I haven't mailed, and I realize that it's much less fun to get a birthday card a week after your birthday, so I decided to make today's blog a birthday card. So, on that note, I hereby dedicate this post to the guy I owe half my genetic material to, who gave me a nickname (against my mom's wishes) and took me to baseball games even though he hated sports. He taught me to make Hollandaise and bookshelves, and even though I don't do either of those things anymore, I DID make a really delicious apple pie (including the crust!) the other day, and I can only assume that the success was the direct result of latent genes and/or training, so thanks Dad for making me a sleeper agent, I mean pie maker:

He's the reason I knew what a grit was before I got down here, that I'm not afraid of the doctor and that I know how to ride a bike (though my mom had a hand in that too... that one took a lot of work. What? That's normal!) He's why anytime anyone makes a pun I go "Ohhhh! Nice Dad joke! You'll make a great father," and I'm not even being sarcastic, mostly, and he's also why I know that being a feminist doesn't mean hating men, it just means making them do the dishes.

So, happy birthday to a great cook and carpenter, and a smart, funny, incredible person who's at least half of who I am today.

And tomorrow I promise to be back to my usual insane and curmudgeonly blogself, maybe with a post entitled: F$&#ing Cellphones Almost Killt Me.


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