Yes it’s “D” as in National Donut Day today. And that entitles you to a free donut at Dunkin’ Donuts (if you buy an overpriced beverage to go along with it). Apparently there’s some other celebration going on today as well.

Ah, yes, here it it: it was 70 years ago that the Allies stormed the beach at Normandy or, as I like to tell my wife, the when my people turned the tide of the war against her people – though, strictly speaking, “my” person was on the other side of the world in either China, Burma (which was most definitely not called Myanmar at the time), or India. Of course, the folks over in Europe got all the publicity. There are a few folks still around who fought in that war, but not very many (after all, if you were 18 70 years ago, you’re no spring chicken today).

I saw that the last Navajo “code talker” – Chester Nez – died a couple of days ago at 93. And of course my dad’s been gone for, shit, it’ll be 20 years in September. My how the years fly by when you’re spending most of them trying to get through one day at a time. One day you wake up and notice it’s just about over. How’s that for a happy thought? I blame my sunny outlook on things on my mother and Peggy Lee, since my mom loved that song “Is That All There Is?”

Anyhow, to those of you who are still around, thanks for all that saving us from the Nazis and the Nips and stuff. Sorry my generation turned out to be sort of lazy and useless, but, hey, you’re the ones who raised us.

On my way home last night, I saw a big dump truck about a mile from my house (not an unusual site, since we have a couple of quarries nearby) with the window down, and there’s a dog wandering around in the road by the truck so I kinda stop to make sure the dog isn’t gonna run in front of me. And she sees me stop so she runs over and jumps on my door, then comes around to the passenger side. So I open the door and in she jumps, all kinds of upset and wiggly and happy to see me.

I couldn’t exactly toss her out into the street, and I saw she had a Town dog tag on (but not one with her name and number on it, unfortunately) so I brought her home and gave her some food and water and let her run around my yard while I called the Town clerk, who was fortunately still in the office.

I read her the tag number and she was able to give me name, address, and phone number of the owner (plus the doggie’s name – Jemma). I gave them a call and left a message that I had Jemma and she was safe, and after a while the guy called me back and said he’d just gotten back from the store and found her leash broken, and then he came over and got her.

So I was thinking I did my good deed for the day, but then I thought what if she was being held prisoner and had escaped – relieved, thinking that I had brought her to freedom, only to be crushed to find out I was returning her to her captor? I could have been turning a downed Allied fighter pilot over to the Nazis!

Except I think this guy was Greek.

Well hopefully Jemma will stay put (or at least out of the road) from now on.

Time to get this week over, I guess, and next week’s gonna suck. Not only do I not have Monday off, but I also have to work late two nights to cover for a bunch of people who are in week-long training. And as if that wasn’t enough, if today’s Friday the 6th, then next week can only be one thing – Friday the 13th!