So I'm over visiting my folks for a long weekend. Today was their 60th wedding anniversary. I'll tell them you said congrats, AD. 
Tomorrow we're having a party at their assisted living place .We're bringing a cake for all the residents to share in the afternoon and then we're having a family dinner in the evening. We're all going to bring a bunch of photos for everyone to look at and my cousin, sister and I are going to sing some songs for old times' sake, since that's what we always used to do.
I left hubby home again this trip. He had some family coming to visit there, so I drove by myself. I would much rather drive by myself anyway because I can listen to my own music or podcasts or whatever I want. I know some folks can't stand the thought of taking long car trips by themselves but I love it.
I came across my dad's old dress Army jacket from when he served during World War II. I'm going to take it home with me and figure out some way to display it at our house.
Dad was the head medic in a hospital ward in London. They got there right after D-Day and had their hands full with casualties from that assault. He told me they worked 12-hour shifts, seven days a week: 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. every damn day. Since he was in charge, he never worked the night shift if he didn't want to, but he told me he did it a couple of different weeks just to see what it was like and ride herd a little bit.
Anyway, I have his jacket. It still has all the insignias on it and is really cool. It's one of the waist-length ones, which I thought looked the coolest, and it's olive-green wool. He was discharged as a technical sergeant. They offered to put him go through officer's training school but the war was over by then and Dad wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of the Army and get home and that's just what he did. I don't blame him.
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Merry Christmas, Jeanie!! 
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