Today is my family’s annual Christmas brunch. I know, I know… oh, Bev with another drunch story. But this is like, the original. Like, the brunch that made me love brunch. And what kind of a world would this be if Bev didn’t love brunch?
This special family tradition began about five years ago… Cousin Bernice and her mom wanted to have MamaG and me up for a nice little brunch… like a normal one. With a nice egg bake, coffee cake, coffee, Christmas cookies, and a little champagne. Sounds adorable, right? I know! As luck would have it, the weather was awful that day, and Smoke had to drive MamaG and I to brunch, and then we were at his (and his F-150’s) mercy for the remainder of the day. Turns out, cousins Tin Cup and Zaccheus were home, and joined in on brunch. Before we knew it, our few bottles of champagne were gone, Aunt Zelda, who was supposed to be joining brunch after work, had to stop for some reinforcements. Smoke was still outside working away, so the rest of us were really left no choice but to keep drinking, and before we knew it, we depleted Zelda’s booze, and had to call my Uncle Bobby to bring yet a third round of libations. By the time he got home with a replenished supply, Smoke was finished working for the day, and was quickly catching up to our champagne buzz with Black Velvet, and it was nearly dinnertime. It goes without saying that the drinks kept a-flowin’, and we all ended up eating a thrown together dinner of pantry-staple (a.k.a., unplanned) spaghetti eight hours after brunch began (sound familiar?).
There’s a little more to this story where TinCup and I end up in a few screaming matches about our college team’s current quarterback, but I like to keep things positive here at BG, ya know?
Other highlights of brunches past include calling in Gertrude and Bessie to come fill in to play cards in the snowstorm, and most recently, setting our drinks on fire. Yes, I see the writing on the wall here with the fire. We’re fine. Smoke’s an old pyromaniac from way back.
Anyway, I’m off to do some brunching. Some wonderful brunching indeed. (I hope you sang that to the tune of Wizard of Oz- if you didn’t, please reread and sing)
-Bev
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