Bob Dylan has no idea just how lucky he is. ( or happy birthday Dad)

Today is Bob Dylan's birthday. But unbeknownst to him; on his 8th birthday a truly great man was born. My father.
He is absolutely the funniest person I know. Sharp as a tack and truly hilarious. In fact his text messages alone are often the source of entertainment. My younger sister and I often trade his texts with each other. Often in tears of laughter. And the pickle cards... Makes me laugh every time.
He is also incredibly smart. He knows about rocks and birds and can name stars and airplane. And speaking of airplanes, he is the BEST airplane wheel photographer known to man. Seriously. Which brings up his talents.
I remember the days he could do flips on the trampoline, or cartwheels in the front yard. He rode his bike to work way before it was cool. And the patience, attention to detail and skill involved in the models he builds is quite impressive. The little pieces of plastic become a work of art in his hands. It's really cool. He does the same in bigger scale with bicycles. Quite impressive. I'm pretty sure he can fix anything.
A visit from my day can turn a bad day at work to good. He makes the best scrambled eggs. And, did I even tell you about his dancing skills?! He gave me a gift I'll always be grateful for: Soul. We dance, we sing, and we laugh.
He is great. And I am so blessed that he is my dad.
Happy Birthday Dad! I love you.

He spoils my kids.

Rollercoaster (or of all the days for this morning to happen..)

That sweet dog nicknamed Bowie. The little white and black one. He showed up again a few weeks ago. He would not come to me. I chased him, I stalked him. I tried so many treats. He would not come to me. I hated seeing him out again. He broke my heart.
This morning I sat on the curb at the end of my block with two other neighbors and he broke my heart again. He had been hit by a car. He died right there in front of me before I could help him.
I have been questioning my actions bringing him to the Humane Society that day. He had no chip, no collar, had not been neutered. I should have found him a better home. But who was I to judge. I thought that was the best place.
Forever, I will be haunted as to why I couldn't catch him again. There was no way I was going to bring him back to the Humane Society. I would have found him a new home myself.
But. This is not what happened. And the reality of what did happen breaks my heart.

So. With this heavy heart I went to Maplewood a few short hours later. There was a PBR - Stray Rescue event. Oh the sweet pups! Big headed pits, and soft shepherd mixes. Happy mutts all around: they had all be saved. The kisses from a three legged red pit bull made me feel better. She lost her leg and tail after being hit by car. She ran and barked and smiled and loved. All the dogs were so sweet. Truly they were all great. A human will be lucky to have any of them in their life.
As I loved on a sweet pup I heard a voice I know from Stray Rescue videos. It was Randy Grim. Founder of Stray Rescue, and an honest hero in my eyes.
So here, after an awful morning, I got to meet him. The irony of this was deep. The losses this man has seen are immense. But he goes on. And I am so grateful for him.
The best news is he is so incredibly nice... And he likes Wichita's name (her Stray Rescue name was Titanium.)
The day ended good, but I'll always remember Bowie.  Strange day. Strange circle.