It's tricky getting the candles to stay upright in the meatballs though

Today is my Daddy's birthday.

He loves spaghetti, peanut butter milkshakes, ice cream, spaghetti, cheese, haystacks, and spaghetti. He really, really loves spaghetti. He also loves taking pictures. Emily and I have hundreds of pictures for each year of our childhood, and that's no small feat considering he had to go out and buy the film and take it to a drugstore to have all those photos developed. He captured so much of our childhoods on film, which is awesome because my memory is pretty much blank before about age 8. He also loves music. He always played music in the house when we were growing up and he turns up the radio in his truck a couple notches every time a good song comes on. His favorites are 60s and 70s rock, bluegrass, accoustic guitar, folk, blues, southern rock and country (not the junk from the 90s and 2000s, but real music like The Allman Brothers Band and ALABAMA.) He used to play this song a lot, and if you don't have the GLAD acapella Christmas album, your holiday season is seriously lacking.

When he wasn't playing music, he was watching surgery shows, cop shows, crime shows, NASCAR races, baseball and football. My daddy flips channels like no one else I've ever known. Just when you finally start to get interested in that gruesome murder case, he'll switch to a guy with a gunshot wound, and when you beg him to go to ANYTHING else, he'll change to a NASCAR race. Then he falls asleep holding the remote and snores so loud that you can't hear anything anyway.

His favorite place to be is the beach. Well, the Carrabbas at the beach. We go to Myrtle Beach every year and Daddy always sleeps with the sliding doors open to hear the ocean, even when it's 40 degrees out. He is so, so smart and extremely hilarious, which are probably the two best things to be in the world. Everybody comments on his deep, distinctive voice and he always sings or whistles along to every song he recognizes, plus some he doesn't. He has some hilarious live-action dreams and occasionally talks, laughs, and (most often) fights in his sleep. He's been a fire equipment salesman, a 911 dispatcher, a fireman, a paramedic, a saftey coordinator for a chemical company, a fire academy instructor and now he's back to 911 dispatch. He takes great care of all of us and would do anything in the whole world to make us happy. He still takes out my splinters and bandages up my cuts and he teaches me things every day and I love him slap to pieces. Even if I told him so every minute of every day, it wouldn't be enough.

Dads are the best, right?