In other news, last night I got called in to work. The very first delivery, they lost control of their dog. He ran out the door and tried his best to bite me. I was moving so all he got was the leg of my jeans. Luckily there wasn't any blood. That's the second time since I took this job. The first one bit me on the finger. There was a little blood that time, but nothing major. One of those little dust-mop looking dogs. But at least I didn't shoot him.
Today, aside from Naomi's birthday, would have been dad's 90th. He died in 1980 at 55 years old. I still miss him. After high school, when I joined the Marines, we became more than father and son. When I was home on leave, we were drinking buddies and I got a lot of good advice from him. Some of it I followed, some I didn't.
Happy birthday dad, I wish we could have one more talk.