In honor of National Donut Day, something I have never marked on my calendar, I plan to eat zero donuts. Why? I'll tell you why. When my grandparents and Future Daddy arrived in Los Angeles in 1938 -- as a student of the SJG Oeuvre, maybe you know this story, but here it is again -- Grandpa and my Daddy-to-be worked at a donut factory. Grandpa drove a donut truck without brakes, and Future Comedy Writer Ben Starr made donuts. He ate so many donuts, he vowed to never eat one again. A man of principle, he kept his word. I never saw him eat a donut. He felt strongly about it. My mother, a smart woman, never bought donuts. So why would I eat a donut today? I never eat them. Well, that's not entirely true. If someone brings a donut into my house, I may take a nibble. Work-wise, hubby is the designated donut-bringer. He brings donuts to work every Friday. He is beloved for his donut-bringing. If he forgets to bring donuts on Friday, the workplace erupts. People openly weep. Some pound the floor in despair. It's a whole thing. So today, hubby will celebrate National Donut Day with a big pink box. Donut-wise, the SJG will abstain, in honor of my donut-disliking Daddy. But please, don't let that stop you. Go have a donut. Have two. Why should you deny yourself just because I am?
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