Once upon a time we ate at Dexter’s Pub a lot. It was back in 2006 when my dad was ensconced in the Henry Ford Hoosegow with a shattered pelvis. He took an air ambulance down there and The Comm had something like an hour to pack for that trip. After about a week of sleeping on a chair in his hospital room, she moved to a short-term apartment on campus for the duration.

I drove down there every darn day I could. It was a dry winter so I didn’t have to deal with snow driving. Dad was there for around three weeks. I had an email list of folks that I wrote to EVERY DOGGAMN NIGHT after I got back to the Landfill from the Henry Ford Hoosegow. Some folks kind of wondered how I could write about that stuff every day. Answer? It kept me going. I didn’t do the same thing when The Comm went into her death dance. I don’t know exactly why but things were different then. That’s how it goes.

When my dad was down in Detroit, we often drove out to Dexter’s Pub for dinner. After I got home and wrote my daily email, that is. Life went on and I got a job and we started walking downtown to the Oscar Tango and the Griz and whatever instead of driving out to Dexter.

Today we drove around through a lot of the glacial hills and lakes north and west of The Planet Ann Arbor. It was beautiful and we ended up back in Dexter and the GG was doing some kind of weird driving maneuver and we ended up at Dexter’s Pub for a bowl of chili for lunch.

I did not drink Fireball or even a margarita.

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