Happy Birthday, Dad.

Today was my Dad's birthday. If I was a good daughter, I would have posted this last night, so he could have seen it on his birthday. I'm not, so I didn't. It's been a rough couple of weeks. Cut me some slack.

I've always loved being Dad's "right hand man." Yeah, I know. Let it go already. Anyway, I wanted to go everywhere he went, do everything he did, and laugh at everything he laughed at.

We would ride around in his truck, belting out Waylon Jennings tunes with the 8 track tape player. We sounded GOOD! I helped haul hay. I backed trailers into the barn when most girls were scared to drive. I loved my daddy, and had a good time with him.

When I was little, Dad entertained my brother and me however he could.

Here is a more recent pic of the three of us. Last year, maybe?

I asked Mom to send me several pics. I asked for one of Dad in the hospital, when I thought my Daddy was dying. She sent it. Forget it. I ain't posting that crap. Every time I looked at it today, I cried. No way, no how.

My daddy is, and has always been, Superman to me. I love you, Dad. Happy Birthday.

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