Tough Room

Pre-fall:  The SJG Blintz Souffle

Okay, fine.   I was going to tell you about the wonder, the high-caloric miracle that is the SJG Blintz Souffle.  I was going to tell you about the brief joy of watching it levitate right there in the oven, before it collapsed before my eyes.  I was going to tell you about the ancient Cuisinart, a letdown of an appliance that makes a mess and leaks and disappoints me, deeply, every time I make my Blintz Souffle, but then, I searched "blintz" in my list of posts, and realized I've told you about my blintzes 842 times.  That's enough about my blintzes for awhile.

Instead, I'll tell you about the main topic of conversation at the Father's Day Brunch hosted by my stylish bro', who did such a fabulous job hosting, I'm turning all holidays over to him from this point on.  That's just between us, of course.  Don't tell him he's got Thanksgiving, Passover, Rosh Hashanah and Dusty's 12th Birthday Party.  He might feel a little stressed.  For now, let's just keep it to ourselves, shall we?

Back to the main topic:  the purplish bruise on my arm.  So much going on in the world, and everyone wanted to know about the boo-boo. "What happened?"  "I don't know."  "That's a huge bruise."  "I know." "How did you get it?"  "I have no idea."  "Did you fall?"  "I think I'd remember that."  "So you didn't fall?"  "No."  "Then what did you do to get such a bruise?"  "I wish I could tell you."  "Make something up." "Knowing me, I probably bumped my arm on the doorknob." "You can do better than that."  "I took one for the team."  "A little vague."  "I took a puck in the arm for the Kings."  "That'll do."  "Hang on, I'm just warming up."  "We're moving on now."  "Tough room."  "We're outside."  "Tough patio."