So my dad turned 60 today, which is kinda strange because he looks like he's in his mid-40s. This also confirms that, yes, I will be turning 30 next year.
Well, my popa-dukes is mad old, but I don't feel bad for him. Right now he's probably wearing shorts, a white polo and a straw hat down in sunny Florida, while I get to spend a half hour digging my car, nay, tauntaun, out of these Hoth-like New England conditions.
Happy birthday Dad, may you playfully choke on your pool-side cocktail, and may your ice cream cake melt prematurely under the non-seasonal Florida sun.
And on a side note, I'll be in Florida in just more than 48 hours. I can't say I've ever looked forward to a trip to the Sunshine State quite like this, though I'm dreading being away from my cat for five days. But yay, me and Bill Parcells, headed South for the holidaze.