Sam's random texts are among my favorite moments in the day. His choice of topic ranges from Aqua Velva to 100 Years of Solitude to his latest, somewhat puzzling question: What month is brunch? I took a moment to ponder this one (which goes to show you how easily distracted I am -- happy to shelve a story outline problem to contemplate something utterly ridiculous) and the pondering took on a life of its own, and here we are.
So, if the year is seen as a waking day, and if brunch is between breakfast and lunch, but tending towards lunch, then I suppose that brunch would be somewhere in late spring. May, let's say. Does that work?
So, if the year is seen as a waking day, and if brunch is between breakfast and lunch, but tending towards lunch, then I suppose that brunch would be somewhere in late spring. May, let's say. Does that work?
What other connotations does brunch have? There is a festive quality to it, I think. It's a weekend thing, so no work is associated with the day. And it's a bigger than usual meal, with foods you do not get regularly. Bacon, pancakes, maybe roast beef and pie if you go out to a restaurant. You look forward to it all the way there. You might even dress up for it -- a colorful sweater for no real reason. Sounds like May, doesn't it -- at least in southern Ontario. The first really warm day is one of the true treats of a 4-season climate. No day in the San Diego calendar makes as many people happy as the first really warm day up here.
And this is where the May-brunch analogy breaks down. Brunch, like all festivals, has a downside, a dark aftermath stemming from excess. The day after your birthday finds you hungover and grumpy and a full year older than you were the day before. You wouldn't want another birthday any more than you want a fourth plate of roast beef. But who wouldn't want more May?
And this is where the May-brunch analogy breaks down. Brunch, like all festivals, has a downside, a dark aftermath stemming from excess. The day after your birthday finds you hungover and grumpy and a full year older than you were the day before. You wouldn't want another birthday any more than you want a fourth plate of roast beef. But who wouldn't want more May?
And now, if you'll excuse me, I have an outline to finish before Sam texts again.
3 comments:
May definitely works. The cherry blossoms would be out by then surely. When was the last time you had a festive dessert, like Cherry Pie and Bacon at the same event? You paint the picture of a wonderful day.
Sand
p.s. Do you remember looking to see if you got a cherry in your fruit salad as a kid?
Do I? Though we called it fruit cocktail, as I remember. Ah, alcoholic childhood ...
Right, fruit cocktail. Then they added extra cherries to spare our parents the stress. I remember it was a special day if the can of evaporated milk came out.
Sand
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