Making Whoopee

So our daughter has developed quite the sense of humor. What? Not the opening sentence you expected from the title?  It will make perfect sense in just a moment.  But back to the daughter and her sense of humor.  She always has made us laugh and seems to find a lot of things funny.  Plus she still thinks I'm the funniest person in the world.  I practice some of my best material on her and she's the best audience a dad could ask for.

Last week though, she took things to a completely different level.  It was just her and I for the evening as Robbie had a "work function" although I'm not sure how much work was done at the Rathskeller's "Welcome to the Neighborhood" event thrown for his place of business.  But daughter and I were playing around when she says "Hold on Daddy, go potty."  She took off down the hall and I asked if she needed help and she said nope.  A few minutes went by and she finally came out of the bathroom, rubbing her butt while going "ow" over and over.  I her what was wrong and she needed medicine.  I asked what was wrong and she said "My butt's cracked."  Seriously.  The girl looked at me deadpan and said "My butt's cracked" in the most pitiful voice you've ever heard.  Then she started laughing.  Not just a giggle but a full blown, out of control, falling on the floor, belly laugh! She was laughing so hard she was having trouble breathing.  That of course got me to laughing almost as hard.  I'd just been punked by my three year old!

I will admit that I may have created our little Borscht belt comic.  I did start the whole "butt crack" joke with her.  When she was still in diapers or pull-ups she'd develop a rash every once in a while and complain about being sore.  I'd always look and say "It should be sore, you have a big crack in your butt."  After several times of this routine, she'd started laughing and say "Daddy!" like I was just the silliest person ever.  It was indeed a very proud moment for me when she was able to turn the joke around on me.  And believe me, I'm very proud to share with anyone who will listen.

Last Friday was the best of the humor so far.  I was buying some new jeans and while waiting in line I noticed that they had whoopee cushions on sale. (Ah, so that's where the title came from!)  I just had to buy one.  We went to pick her up from daycare but not before slipping the cushion under the cushion on her car seat.  Robbie put her in her seat and wouldn't you know but she's still so light that it didn't do anything.  Robbie then made sure she was in the seat better and pushed down and set off the whoopee cushion.  Daughter's eyes got really wide, a grin started on her face.  Then the laughing started.  I thought she was going to wet herself and swore that it wasn't her!  I said "But I heard you!  I can't believe you farted in my car!"  Lord!  The laughter didn't stop until we were almost home.  It's amazing what a $1 piece of latex can do.

Oh, I almost forgot.  When I told the cracked butt story to Robbie the following day he just shook his head and said "Great.  Now I have two of them in the house."  Yup.  I'm one proud daddy.  Now I just have to teach her that there's a time a place for that humor. I just know it's going to result with at least one or two calls from school.  And I'll take full responsibility for it.  But not until after I teach her about armpit farts.

I don't have a title for this, so I'll just ramble

Years ago, when I first lived in Indianapolis I was introduced to fine dining by my boyfriend of that time.  The place Rick took me required a jacket and tie.  I owned neither.  At the last minute Rick took me shopping.  After many tries at finding a sport coat off the rack, the salesman finally suggested that we head across the aisle.  At 23, I was so skinny they couldn't fit me for a jacket in the men's department.  We left the store with a size 18 jacket from the boy's department.  Now I can't even buy socks in the boy's department.

Later that week I had my first experience at a restaurant that didn't serve food wrapped in paper or delivered on plastic trays.  That was also my first experience with Italian cuisine that didn't have pizza in the name of the place.  At the time it was one of the few places in downtown Indianapolis where you could have a meal after working hours.  There was the Eagle's Nest in Merchants Bank Plaza and Le Tour at the top of the Indiana National Bank Tower.  With the Pacers playing at Market Square Arena and the Colts only recently opening the "Hoosier Dome", there wasn't much yet to define a downtown nightlife.  Not a safe one anyway. 

But this isn't about that restaurant.  It's about another place that Rick took me.   I now live about a mile from the place and just about every time we go by it makes me think about the first time I had chocolate mousse.   About three weeks ago the building was demolished to make way for yet another chain restaurant from Darden Enterprises - the same folks who brought us Red Lobster, Olive Garden, Capital Grill and a few others.  This new one is Seasons 52 where they promise to not have anything over 475 calories on their menu.  (I warned you that I'd be rambling.)  It might be refreshing to have a place to dine out that doesn't pride itself in it's ability to make you wish you had not lifted that last fork of never-ending-garlic-mashed potatoes to your mouth.

The restaurant that just closed was El Torito Grill.  We went a couple of times after moving back to Indianapolis.  There wasn't anything bad about their food, but we never really found anything great enough to justify going back. In fact, it just made us yearn for some authentic Mexican restaurants in Chicago that we frequented while we lived there.

  Before the restaurant was El Torito Grill it was The Keystone Grill.  When the place first opened it was Rosa Corona's (there may have been other restaurants in between, but I wasn't around for them or quite possibly I just don't remember them.)  When it first opened in the early 1980's it was a multi-million dollar building with an interior decor budget to match.  They offered a classic 1980's concept that I experienced for the first time there: Sunday Brunch.  Brunch was something I only experienced in movies and never thought it was offered anywhere other than New York City.  The boyfriend and I met up with a few friends one Sunday for brunch and it was the first time that I had ever seen Chocolate Mousse on a menu.  I. Had. To. Have. It.

Chocolate Mousse... could there be any dessert more rich and decadent?  At the time I didn't think so and Rosa Corona's didn't disappoint.  It was just as rich and sumptuous as I had imagined.  And after all these years, that's about the only thing I can remember about that brunch.  I've had chocolate mousse since then but like most first times, none of them have ever given me the head spinning experience as that first one.  But then again, what else would you expect from behind those gleaming brass doors?

I think I've mentioned a few times that I'm not one for being nostalgic.  This post would seem to contradict that.  What I find really bothersome was not the loss of a place from my past, but the reckless way in which our culture seems to treat architecture.  I'm not advocating saving every single building - I believe that historic preservation can get out of hand.  But I find it incredible that there was no way this building couldn't have been re-purposed to fit the new restaurant concept.   The flip side I suppose is that after thirty-some years in business that the mechanicals in the building were probably worn out.  I've been told that in most cases it's just cheaper to knock everything down and start over.  But when it comes to the finale, is this the best way architecture to meet its end?

Where in the World...

Blogger has this new feature that I've become obsessed with: Stats.  I now know where my audience is coming from(hi Blog Babies!)  So far there are people from all over the globe (except for Australia ~ where is Texsun?) reading this little thing.  Canada and The United Kingdom I was a little surprised at.  But Latvia? Bulgaria? Russia?  Who are these people from those places and why are they reading this blog?  Those are just the places from the past 30 days!

So, besides being a little befuddled and awed, I'm curious as to who you are.  If you're one of the readers from other parts of the world who have stumbled upon this blog, please leave me a comment and let me know where in the world you're reading this from and how you found it.  And if you're a repeat reader, why? (He asks chuckling.)  Comments are moderated, and if you would like your comments to remain unpublished let me know. 

Pageviews by Countries United States   143 Canada   5 United Kingdom   3 Italy   3 Latvia   3 Bulgaria   2 China   2 Germany  2 Georgia   2 Russia   2

Connecting The Dots - Part 2

Hey.  So it's been a while (an understatement. severe understatement) since I first started this.  Here's the first part as a refresher.

When we last left the story, I was beginning my serial career as a student at Ball State, starting to date Mark, er, um Mark's sister, and experiencing life outside of small town existence for the very first time.  Yes, Muncie Indiana was a huge metropolis for me.  It had everything. Restaurants, parks, shopping (a mall!), traffic lights, and it was only twenty minutes from Mark and his family.

After moving in to off campus housing - with two roommates in a one bedroom sublet apartment - I spent just about every weekend with Mark's family and they treated my like I was one of their own.  I went snowmobiling that winter with Mark, helped re-roof his family's house in the spring, and re-learned how to play pick-up basketball.  I also learned that I could wear shorts and not have people laugh at my chicken legs (oops, different story).

That first year there, I also joined their church.  Since it was a branch of the same church I had grown up with, it was an easy transition.  It was the same small town, traditional, close knit, conservative protestant church that I had grown up with.  Move mine a few hours to the east, change the architecture, but pretty much the same.  I'm pretty sure that some of the biddy's who sat in quiet judgment of others were cloned just to sit in congregations of that particular church all across the Midwest.

One of the great things about that church was that they had a youth group for the teens.  Technically I think it was meant for high school students, but since I was still a teen and was close friends with Mark & dating his sister, the group sponsors let me hang out.  It was kind of an outreach program for the new kid in town - does anyone else hear The Eagles playing? No?  Must be that awful DJ in my head again.  I think the word I'm looking for is anyway...

One of the activities that our youth group did was to get together with other area church youth groups about once a month for roller skating parties.  Heavily supervised.  You never know what a group of teenagers are going to do while on wheels.  After a while, you start recognizing some of the same people and eventually your circle of friends expands.  At the time, I just didn't realize to what extent.

My second year at BSU, I decided that I needed to find a part time job to help pay some of the bills that a person incurs living off campus as I had moved to be closer to my friends in their town.  Finally in October I landed a job at Sears (at the mall!) working in the hardware, paint, and small appliance department.  Oh, we also sold lighting, outdoor lawn equipment and Christmas supplies in our area.  Schizophrenic department planning~ no wonder Sears has such a difficult time as a retailer.  My first day I walk in and see a girl that I had met at the roller skating parties.  Meg was just as surprised to see me there.  It had been at least six months or so since we had run into one another (not literally) at the skating parties.

Meg and I quickly fell into an easy friendship.  What wasn't to like?  She was outgoing, funny, and had a killer smile that spoke of more worldly knowledge than I could possibly imagine.  And Meg was my introduction to a life outside of the church.

(to be continued)