Wow, my Dad had his birthday yesterday and let me tell you, he is very, very old.   Not as old as my Gram. No one on the planet is as old as my Gram, at least not still alive and walking around. 
   Any way my Dad says he is now in the prime numbers.    I have not got a clue about what prime numbers are, and I asked my Gram and she didn't know and I can assure you stupid Bob doesn't have a clue.    Gram said I should watch the TV show, Numbers, and then maybe I could figure it out for myself.      Obviously, the simple and correct thing to do was ask my Mom, and she knew the answer right away.   My Dad is now 41 years of age. That's really sad. 

I don't think he looks that bad, although I think he looked a bit worse for the wear this morning cause we had a BIG party last night.  Big Party.   Many Festivities.   Much Noise.  Yipes!

My Dad loves to play music on his bong-going drum, or something like that.   It's got a funny kind of shape, and I think my Mom spent a lot of money giving him THAT present, but he does love to pull it out when his music making friends come over to see him.   

Now here is my problem.    I love it when my Dad has his "buddies" over to visit, cause they build a great fire in the fire pit outside, and they have great food, wonderful drinking items (I like a small sip of beer from time to time, but don't tell my Mom) and they sit around and smoke cigars, and talk Man Talk.    I love to sit and listen.  They all treat me really good and I am truly The Princess amongst the Barbarians, let me tell you.     

So, usually my Mom isn't around when my Dad has his friends around us but last night my Mom was home and finally she went inside to sleep.   Ha.  That was a joke. As if anyone could sleep with the drumming and the guitar music not to mention the guitar from one of our friends was a PLUG IN KIND.  It is really loud.

So what was a Princess to do?  I wanted to stay with the men and be loved and fussed over (and they let me smell just like the cigar smoke - and that lasts for many days); but on the other hand, I wanted to cuddle and snuggle with my Mom and try to get some sleep.   What to do, what to do?

Finally I got tired of wandering back and forth through my home-made doggie door and my Mom won the Battle of the Bands.

Happy Birthday Dad!  I'm sure that after you feel a bit better you won't look a day over 28!

Hopefully all my fans will send you a happiness card.

Your best girl,
Daisy
(and stupid head, Bob, of course --- who WASN'T allowed to come to the grown up party)