This post is part of Norm Frampton’s Thursday Doors link-up.
The Southern Indiana Writers, a critique group that’s been around for over 20 years, was meeting at Point Blank Brewing. I loved it a lot, because I love the food and I way love the craft beers. But, in the summer, the semi-private booth we used got too hot for our member with thyroid issues to tolerate. They put a fan on us, but the wind was a problem for our member with severe dry eyes, and the noise made it hard for us to hear each other without shouting, and we sometimes use naughty words.
So we’ve started meeting at El Nopal in Corydon (or, as our youngest grandson calls it, Salsa). They also have great food (except for the tamales, which are BO-ring). The carnitas are di-vine, and they give you enough to take home and have as leftovers. They make a great Margarita, and they have Negra Modelo on draft. With a slice of lime. Yes, Lord!
But this is a post about doors.
The doors to the restaurant are just regular glass doors, but, inside the private room where we meet, is this:
The sign above the door says “Mi casa es su casa”, “My house is your house.” Because I totally have a false door nailed to the kitchen wall in my house, right? It’s a nifty door, though.
Hinges and knotholes and everything. Murals on either side that look like busy landscapes framed by brick windows.
Here’s the floor of the hallway between the necessary facilities and the bar. I have let the light ruin the top of the shot, because the mosaic is of a viper, and I don’t want to trigger any phobias.
Gives a whole new meaning to the plumbing term “toilet snake”. And, dear God, don’t Google “toilet snake”. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
The ceiling is high in the bar, and the ducts are exposed, so they made a virtue of necessity and painted this on one.
In other news, A DEAD GUY AT THE SUMMERHOUSE got a four-star review on Amazon. Yay!
A DEAD GUY AT THE SUMMERHOUSE is available on Amazon in print and for Kindle, and can be ordered from your friendly neighborhood independent bookstore or through Indiebound.org.
A WRITING PROMPT FOR YOU: A false door opens one day. What lies beyond?
MA
Jane
October 31, 2015 at 10:55amWay cool, of course.
But they were made out of two cut up wooden yardsticks. Oh, yeah. We wuz crafty!
Jane
October 30, 2015 at 10:42amYes, I am. Bonnie the Shiv. Brrr.
Of course we put up the I Ching wands. Of course! I think I ran across a couple of those the other day. š
Marian Allen
October 30, 2015 at 1:33pmSeriously??? How cool is that???
Dan
October 29, 2015 at 8:00amThis looks like a fun place. I’m OK with nailing a door to the wall. the beauty of a door with the benefit of being able to put furniture next to it. I know about having to find the right place for people to meet, it’s a challenge to be sure.
Marian Allen
October 29, 2015 at 9:00amFalse doors irritate me, because I always want them to open to something unexpected and splendid, and they never do. I’ll bet my friend Jane remembers the nailed-shut door in our dorm room and what we did to it. Nothing dramatic or destructive, just amusing (to us).
Jane
October 29, 2015 at 11:20amGirl, you credit me with too much. I cannot recall the door incident. There were so many doors in that big square room. I guess all my recollection power lies in our other location, where door issues where highly dramatic, as well as strange and unlikely. So nice to room near girls among whom was a holder of a restraining order from the police!
Marian Allen
October 29, 2015 at 11:24amAre you talking about my home girl, Bonnie the Shiv?
I’m talking about the sealed door we put the I Ching hexagram of change on, made out of strips of painted cardboard. Dark Shadows was doing that “travel through time by stepping through the imaginary door with the I Ching wands on”, so we made our own.