Today is my dad’s birthday.

Dad is a great guy — and I miss seeing him now that I’m in D.C. and he’s up in Connecticut. It’s funny, but we actually saw more of each other when we lived here and my folks lived there. And we still saw lots of each other when we were both down there. But now it’s just a few times a year and I miss our lunchtime chats and our Sunday rides to get the newspaper.

He brings such a reassuring way of looking at the world to the table — optimistic and open-minded and upbeat all at once, but not in an annoying way. He’s also a little bit of the old fashioned dad — wise and a bit protective, but willing to let you make your own mistakes, á la Judge Hardy.

Dad’s birthday has gotten pushed to the side a bit this year as I frantically run around trying to finish a wedding present and as Rudi writes a best man speech.

I didn’t get a chance to make him Gramma cookies the way I like to. I know he understands (and that he’s probably just fine with an IOU), but I don’t want him to think that he’s less important to me than my friends. He’s not — and it’s because of things like him being cool about the cookies.

So, happy birthday, Dad. I love you.