Yesterday was my dad's 70th birthday. I celebrated it by calling and reminding him that he is extremely, extremely old. "HELLO, OLD MAN," I shouted, "IT'S YOUR DAUGHTER. ALICE CATHERINE."
"Eh?" he said, because he is as amused by my little joke as I am. And then I prattled on for a while about how old he is, why is he still working, shouldn't he be in a home now, etc. etc.
Really, he loves it. He wishes he could have a birthday more than once a year, just so he could enjoy my calls berating him for his advanced age.
Here is a picture of my dad with Henry, when Henry was three days old. As you can see, my father is incredibly old, but radiates vitality and joie de vivre. What, you can't see it? Look closely!
In other news, it will soon be the celebration of the birth of Jesus. This is a holiday that we Christians sometimes celebrate by draining our bank accounts. Accordingly, I have lost my mind, and have nothing to write about except WHY HASN'T THE STUFF I ORDERED SHOWN UP YET. In order to spare you this, I am taking a short vacation from Finslippy, and will return in the new year. 2006! I'll be writing this blog from the moon! This is the year, baby!