Indiana Wants Me; Lord I Can’t Go Back There

So, after driving all the way up here yesterday, what did we do today? Drive all over Indiana.

Ha, that’s just like us. Still, it’s good to spend time with my parents and the good thing about being in the van is that they can’t put me to work painting porch furniture or spraying the lawn for weeds or anything that’s too much like the shit I have waiting for me at my own house.

So, I told my mom about Tiny Cat Pants and she and my dad (as you’ll recall, the Butcher already told him about it) had all kinds of questions: What do I write about? Do I get paid? Will I get sued? Who reads it? And as much as I tried to explain it to them, they didn’t really get it. They came in just a few minutes ago while I was reading the Tennessee Guerilla Women and my dad was like, “That’s just the news! Are you writing the news?” And I told him it wasn’t my site, but he was still stuck on “It’s the news! Is this some underground news network?” So, I guess it kind of is like that, with me playing the part of Andy Rooney.

Then they asked me if I was writing right then and I said no and they started in with all the things I should write about. “Tell the blog about all the weird houses we saw in Indiana that seemed to have been pieced together by polygamists trying to keep their wives from finding out about each other.” “Tell the blog about the state park that used to be Fort Harrison.” “Oh, tell the blog about the restaurant in Danville where we had dinner.” “Yeah, don’t forget that.”

Apparently they think that my readers are some kind of collective–The Blog–which makes me laugh because it makes me think of y’all floating through space in a giant metal cube. Who knew their love of Star Trek would resurface in such a funny way?


3 thoughts on “Indiana Wants Me; Lord I Can’t Go Back There

  1. The Blog wants to know: Is it that steakhouse in Danville they’re talking about? Everybody and their mother goes there. And their father, too, I guess, in your case.

  2. I can’t remember what it was called, but it’s some pink place near downtown. They have everything on their menu. Both of my parents got pork chops, prepared two different ways. But we could have had breakfast or burgers or chicken fried steak (in my case).

    When my mom taught just south of there, the teachers would all come in to this place to eat lunch and complain about things during parent-teacher conferences.

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