Today is my dad's birthday. Keeping pace with my status as a crappy person, his birthday card is still sitting on my dining room table. That card has been in my house, addressed and stamped since before his birthday last year. That's how bad I am. I will call him later though. I called him last year too. It did not stop a very subtle comment about birthdays being forgotten while I visited this summer. I suck.

The thing is, my dad deserves more than that. He dated my mom knowing she was a package deal. It was a blind date, no less. He dumped a fianc�e to marry my mom. He adopted me before my age was even off one hand. He treated me as his own child, so much so that the fact that I wasn't was successfully kept hidden from me until age 12. I was devastated by the news, but it gave me the deepest respect for my dad� and his family. I was never anything but one of them.

My dad is one of those guys that only miss work when truly sick. He never takes a day off because he doesn't feel like going in. He does more than his share of work and feels like he doesn't do enough. He worries about his performance. He's old school. He is the best employee ever. I wish I owned a business just so I could hire him.

My dad manages several technicians. They have no idea what an exceptional boss they have. He bought them all hams for Christmas. He invites them to his home for dinners. He picks up the slack when they have personal issues that need attention. He takes care of them. He's the kind of guy you want to work for and actually do work for.

My dad is a very quiet and subtle man. He listens rather than talks. He takes it all in. Because of this, he has excellent advice. I really wish I would have realized that sooner. I didn't listen much, even when I asked.

My dad encouraged me to live up to my potential. He lit up when I talked about my future and a career. He would never call himself a feminist, but he is one. He was sad to see me drop out of college. But he hasn't given up. He still thinks I should go. He still wants me to realize my dreams. He believes in me even when I don't. Even though he knows I haven't accomplished the things I set out to do, he's still proud of me. And he's not afraid to tell me so.

Because of all these things that are my dad, every year I want to give him the perfect gift. Every year I fail. He doesn't need and want things like so many people do. He's happy. The best gift would probably be to get a card to him on time. Since it's too late for that, I will have to make that a goal next year. I'll probably just go get a gift card from a bookstore. It's not personal. It doesn't represent anything my dad is to me, but I know he will use it. And I know he will appreciate it because it's from me and because I thought of him and love him.

Happy Birthday, Dad!