60 years old?

Today my Dad, the quintessential kid at heart, turned sixty. Because I'm lame, I totally forgot to send him a birthday card. Not even something cute handmade by Jimmy (who is pictured above with Grampy Trout, almost exactly four years ago).

Please don't think I hate you, Dad. I even forgot to get cards for Jim for both Father's Day and our anniversary this year. So I have an equal opportunity short-term memory loss. I haven't called you yet because today is my laundry day and I'm still playing catch-up from being sick, even though I've actually been better for a while. But Dad, if you're reading this, I'll call you. Promise.

Oh, and don't say I didn't get you anything cool, because for about five minutes I seriously considered posting that great shot of you in your groovy flower-power Speedo bathing suit, circa 1971. Until I remembered Jim replaced our scanner last week and I don't know how to work the new one. So happy birthday, embarrassment free. I love you.