Deciphering Daddy

Today during mandatory craft time (btw, made an awesome collage), the phone rang.

It was Dad.

"Bucket," he said. Dad has always called me Bucket, as in a bailing bucket, as in Bailey. "I can only talk for a short minute," he continued, all business, "but I wanted you to hear something and guess what it is."

[Crinkling noise]

"Is it a food wrapper?"

"No," he said, "not a food wrapper, but it is a food of some kind."

[Pause]

Me: "Gasp! Is it the crunching of the chips on a bologna cheese jelly potato chip sandwich??!!"

Dad: "It is! Good guessing!"

Me: "Thank you." (Quite proud).

Dad: "Okay, gotta go, just wanted to share."

Me: "Thanks for sharing, I love you!"
Dad: "Love you too, Bon Jovi!" Bon Jovi is how my father says "good bye." No one is really sure why, but he often shortens it to just "Jovi" or "Jovis." When my sister-in-law married my brother we wrote her our own dictionary of my dad's made up vocabulary, so when he's running around saying things like "straw-ba-nerry" and "boom shacka lacka lacka" she would be, well, somewhat prepared.

And now, since you're all wondering, a history of the aforementioned bologna cheese jelly potato chip sandwich.

First, my dad invented it (big surprise). Second, it's actually quite tasty. Third, my brother Riley still eats them on occasion, I used to but haven't in a long while, and my Dad obviously still snacks on them often. I'm not sure how he came up with the combination of ingredients.

There is one important rule involving the BCJPC sandwich. The chips must be the final, top layer added to the sandwich. That's not the rule, that's a pre-rule to the actual, rule. The rule is that you must silence all those who are in the room with you at the time, place the slice of bread gently on top of the chips, and then ceremoniously, with eyes closed if you feel the need,

crunch

the potato chips and smile at the delightful sound. This rule is actually written down on a recipe card in our home. Dad was obviously alone today and therefore without a qualified listener for the crunching of the sandwich chips, hence he called me for the occasion. Which I will say I was and still am thrilled about.

In the 5th grade we had an assignment called "Teach a Lesson." It must have taken us weeks to get through this (fabulous) assignment, because one by one, each student taught the class a lesson, and the entire class had to participate in each lesson. So, you could teach your fellow 5th graders to, say, tie a knot, do a cartwheel, or groom a horse. Your friend the Daily Bailey chose to teach her class to make bologna cheese jelly potato chip sandwiches. (In 4th grade, she also put peanut butter on her armpits in front of the whole school, but that's another blog post for another time).

I bought enough bologna, bread, cheese, and chips for the whole class. I even called our local Village Inn restaurant, explained my strange situation, and they happily provided me with 30 individual grape jelly packets for the event. I taught my class the rule and the pre-rule. We all crunched together in harmony. And I am happy to report that everyone in the class tried their sandwiches, and almost everyone if not everyone, liked it.

So I urge you, go surprise yourself. Make the sandwich, crunch the chips for someone (for the grandest comedy I would suggest recruiting a stranger to do the appreciative listening), and be delighted in the taste of a seemingly disgusting culinary creation (trademark Daily's dad).