Happy birthday, daddy.

Every year when the first of November comes along, your birthday reminds me of how grateful I am to be your daughter. I have so much to thank you for...so much, that this blog runs short of room to fit it all.

Thank you for teaching me to never look through judgemental eyes. And for teaching me that jealousy is completely silly and that sweating the s m a l l stuff is just a b i g waste of time.



Thank you for always making me crack a smile when tears are in my eyes. Your silliness is one of my favorite things about you.

Thank you for the vacations.

Each



And





Every







One







Of







Them.

Thanks for always making sure we felt okay. It is so admirable how even through rough times, you never let us know that anything was wrong,

e v e r .

Refraining from taking things a bit too seriously...I got that from you.

Thanks for being Mr. Cool and never being one of those

clueless-to-how-embarrassed-you're-making-your-kid-feel

kinda parents.

And thanks for all the [ s m a l l ] stuff, too...

like teaching me how to drive

..even after I came an inch short of hitting another car the day before.

And teaching me how to catch those poor little fishies off the back of the houseboat

and how to ride a bike

...and a sea doo.. even if it meant you had to come looking for me, lost on my sea doo in the middle of Lake Powell. Speeding so fast you hit a wave the wrong way and got a bloody nose. Yeah, sorry about t h a t one, dad.

Thank you for being a wonderful father. I love you more than you could ever know. Oh, and...

Happy 45th birthday, Daddy.