So how was your weekend? Mine was eventful. Here is why it was eventful: Daisy was baptized! Baptisms’ are rather eventful, aren’t they, what with all consecrating Daisy to the Lord, promising to raise her to believe in Him, plus all the frantic weed pulling so that your guests don’t think you live in a jungle. J is convinced, actually, that I only invited people over for brunch after the baptism so that I’d have an excuse to pull weeds, and I am embarrassed to admit that this is slightly closer to the truth than I’d like him to realize. Of course, another one of the benefits of having people over for brunch is the amount of champagne you’re legally allowed to drink on a Sunday afternoon. Trust me; it is double what you would normally be able to have. Maybe triple.
So we had both sets of Grandparents, cousins, aunts, uncles, friends, and the Godmother and Godfather, plus their respective partners, and do you know, the amount of times I’ve entertained in our home can be counted on in one hand. And I say “entertained” rather loosely: it’s not like we have a dining table and chairs or anything. Or, come to think of it, a proper dining room. No, when you come over for brunch Chez Stars, you’ll be sitting (if you’re so lucky to grab one of the three seats available) on the couch with a plate on your lap. You’ll also be trying to ignore the fact that the hostess has made most of the guests bring nearly all the food, including the quiches, and has rebranded the whole thing by saying enthusiastically as you walk in the door “Welcome! We’re having an array of baked goods!” This is pretty much code for “Welcome! We’re having something you could eat without a fork and knife!” And yet, curiously, if you drink enough champagne you will find that you manage to get over this.
Plus, I have also found that when you put enough butter in your pie crust you can pretty much get away with anything. It also helps if your Mother-in-Law brings nearly 14-dozen cookies for 22 people. This makes up for the fact that you are not serving anything with protein. Just sugar and gluten.
After the last guest had left Daisy screamed for thirty minutes, alerting the neighbors about her unhappy state. While J took care of the situation I had some leftover pizza from the fridge. I would like to be the first to inform you, but the way, that leftover pizza goes amazingly well with champagne. Perhaps you knew this. I did not. But, I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. Anything takes better with champagne.
(Note: By the way, my dad took all these photos and I have been instructed to tell you that, since he always makes sure to point out all the photos he took, he is convinced that I steal his photos, and pass them off as my own, and this is how artists lose their creative copyright, and what am I going to start doing next, STEAL HIS IDENTITY??)