The Rise And Fall Of A Brunch

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​The Rise And Fall Of A Brunch

       Along with the axiom "Pics or it didn't happen" goes the corollary, "If it didn't happen then there are no pics," which applies to the event chronicled in the following post, for which there are no pics. Because it didn't happen.
          What did happen, was that last Friday it occurred to me that it had been some time since Tom and I had our son Tommy and daughter-in-law Emily over for weekend brunch.  So on Friday night I invited them to come over the next day for a Saturday brunch. I figured I'd just throw together the usual for the four of us:  scrambled eggs and French toast.
         "Sure, we'll come," said Tommy. "But cousin Kevin is in town. Can we invite him, too?"
         "Certainly," said I, figuring brunch for five wasn't much more than brunch for four. "Oh, but wait," I said,  "since cousin Kevin is in town, we really should invite Randy and Anusha." Now were up to seven.
           "Oh, and what about Theresa?," said Tommy.  
​          That made eight, until Tom said, "If we're inviting cousin Kevin, Randy, Anusha, Theresa, Tommy and Emily, then we should ask Uncle Donald and Aunt Mary." That made ten.
          "Oh, sure, we'll come," said Uncle Donald. "But how about Madelyn, Brady and Archer?"
          Now we were up to thirteen. My dining room table only holds twelve.
          But no problem! We'd seat the younger folks in the dining room, the older folks in the kitchen, and serve the food buffet style.  
          Which brought me to the issue of food. I didn't have sufficient provisions to make scrambled eggs and French toast for thirteen, and even if I did, this was no longer a mere eggs and French toast brunch. With cousin Kevin in town and all the relatives coming over, it would be an event calling for a more sumptuous repast.
          I came up with a menu:
          Scrambled eggs with mushrooms, onions and peppers 
          Tater tots
           Sausage
           Rolls
          French toast topped with berries and whipped cream
          Fruit salad
          Coffee, tea, orange juice, iced tea, sparkling water
          Of course I didn't have most of the ingredients for the feast on hand, but again, no problem, I'd set the alarm for 6 am, zip out to Meijer's first thing in the morning, pick up the supplies, then I'd hurry home and hit the ground chopping, whipping, and sautéing  while Tom cleaned the kitchen and the bathroom and set up the dining room and kitchen tables and the whole thing would be no sweat.
          The following morning at 6:01 I lay in bed sweating ever so slightly, going over  in my head one more time the menu, the grocery list, the cooking, the food set-up, and the seating arrangements, when Tom, a much earlier riser than myself, came into the bedroom.
           "I have the worst sore throat," he croaked. "My muscles ache and I'm all congested. I think I'm running a temperature."
             And in that moment my towering brunch plan came tumbling down.

​                                                             Epilogue
            Tom is feeling much better. It wasn't COVID,  just a miserable cold that appears to have almost run its course. 
           I swear someday the Saturday brunch will rise again. And when it does, there will be pics.