My dad was one of those poor kids whose birthday was always overshadowed by the holidays. Not only was he born on January 5, less than 2 weeks after Christmas and mere days after New Year's, but he was the baby of the family. After putting up with the six rowdy children who came before him, you know his parents probably threw him a broken yoyo they found in the corner and muttered, "Happy Birthday, kid. Knock yourself out."
Well, not today! On this Fifth of January, in the Year of Our Lord 2010, I issue a decree to the Internet: 'Tis Spike's Birthday . . . Celebrate One and All! Let There Be Cake! And Gifts Aplenty! Champagne Shall Flow Like Water, and All Shall Sing in Honor of this Glorious Event—the Birth of Our Dear Fellow! May He Live a Long and Wondrous Life, Full of Health, Wealth, and Happiness! Hear! Hear!
Happy Birthday, Dad!
Who knew that these two would grow up to become such good friends? While life experiences over the years have shaped my father into a wise and dashing man of adventure, I'm rather disappointed to realize that I haven't changed much at all from this picture . . . I'm still fat, cranky, and drooling.
Dinner last night: sour cream enchiladas, refried beans, corn
Exactly one year ago today: