Oh, the shame of today.

Today I woke up with a migraine. It was so excruciating I couldn't bare to move. I ended up asking Liz to rifle through my drawers and inevitably venture out to my car to get me my medicine. Such a good friend. I stayed in bed through all of the daylight hours - most of the time just lying there, but after the pain became more bearable and I could stand to open both of my eyes I watched a lot of Hulu and posted several blog entries. My head never stopped hurting, but a bit after 6 p.m. I decided that I couldn't waste my day completely and drove to the studio to do some last minute tidying up. While I was converting a video file that was taking too long, I took a trip to Wegman's to pick up a few groceries. While I was at the store, I walked past the greeting card section and a realization hit me like a brick wall...today is my dad's birthday. By this point it was after 8 p.m. and although I knew he would probably be asleep I gave his cell phone a call anyways. No answer. Then the house phone - my mom answered and sure enough, dad was in bed, asleep already. Ugh. I am the worst daughter ever. I've literally been so wrapped up in my own selfish little grad school world for the past several weeks that I didn't even remember my own father's birthday. I am the worst daughter ever. 


Well, at the risk of someone reading this and exposing my disgusting emotional sentimentality. I love my dad A LOT. Thus why I feel terrible. We don't say it as often as we should, but I literally do not talk to him when I'm not in Clayton. And I don't go home very often. Him and me - we aren't phone people. My mom forces me to be a phone person and then gets mad when there are long periods of silence during our "conversations". I wish she would just get text messaging. Anyways, I love and respect my dad. He is a hard worker. He wakes up cheerfully every morning and is a good whistler. He has amazing self control. He built our house and has a garden and bakes really good pies. And he thinks he's pretty funny, which he is. He loves Jeopardy and the History Channel and show tunes. The only sport he follows is the World Poker Tour. He likes birds and vintage things. We get along quite well. I'm going to call him first thing tomorrow morning, but until then, I just felt compelled to pay tribute to my FAJA. ("Faja can you hear me?")