Happy Birthday To Me?

I have always really enjoyed my birthday.


My Dad holding his “girl babe” shortly after I was born.
Girl babe is what he called me, until I got older, that is.

from the beginning:

My second birthday
LaFayette, NY

Even when opening the dreaded dress present from my Grandparents (where’s the books or toys?)


And including some birthday


Dad and me sharing a homemade red raspberry pie, my favorite!
At my parents’ home in Horseheads, NY

where Dad had big glasses and I had puffy hair that I was too lazy to style on the weekends, but it normally looked like this when I styled it:


Me as a bride’s maid at my friend Kathy’s wedding.
Oh yeah, I wore that dress again. NOT.

To celebrating my Dad’s birthday:


My big mouth is open singing Happy Birthday to my Dad!
At my townhouse in Ontario, NY

But now that my Dad is gone, it just isn’t the same. This doesn’t mean I don’t like cards and recognition, but I’m not in the mood for my normal birthday party this year. It’s just not the same without my Dad. And my Mom understands. Maybe it will change next year, I’ll see. Now I understand some of my friends who don’t like to celebrate their birthdays anymore.