My Plumbing Problem

I have a plumbing problem. We'll get to it later. Because of that, instead of going out east to celebrate New Year's Eve, I will be in Chicago. The only upside to that downside is that the Bears will be on TV tonight. Hot freaking dog.

So the four days I was going to be royally entertained have now become an opportunity to entertain myself. With that in mind, I thought a brunch with other people still in town might be fun yesterday.  After I first made sure that my plumbing problem was sufficiently under control to go out for awhile. Like I said, I'll get to that later.

I had to find people to invite who were still in town. Eight of the folks I contacted had left the building. Luckily, five of us were able to gather for an 11:00 AM chow call at a restaurant everyone has been talking about.  The chefs were profiled in some tres chic magazine because they serve a nice brunch on weekends. Even better, their "cafe" is in my plain old suburb.  The two fancy cooks used to work at the Ritz Carlton. Yes, that Ritz Carlton. Where Oprah used to have an apartment. Having them whipping up breakfast stuff so close by is like having Emeril dropping in to make grilled cheese sandwiches for your kids.

The menu is extensive, including imported bacon from Wisconsin -- shut up that's a big deal -- fresh fruit and, something very important to moi, FRESH SQUEEZED juices. I had one orange and one red grapefruit. 

For those who drink more powerful potions in the morning, they offered Bloody Marys, Mimosas, and something called a Peach Bellini. There's also a full bar on the other side of the partition that separates the diners from the drinkers.

I knew they were serious when I saw that French toast made with challah bread was an option. But for entrees most of us glommed onto the Eggs Benedict. I chose the spinach version which boasted a dried tomato hollandaise. Someone else had the crab style, which used crab cakes instead of English muffins. So they could charge double. I got a taste and said OMG. Then there was a purist who ordered her EB the regular way.

Someone who thinks she is overweight got an egg white omelette with a salad. The man in our group ordered a frou frou Chicken Caesar, which to the chefs' credit came with two huge slices of pesto garlic toast and a giant slab o' chicken sliced into many pieces. Not that I think men shouldn't order girly food. But he said he wanted a WAFFLE when he first saw the menu. Plus he's a cancer survivor. Go for it. What's with people who like to deprive themselves at this age.

I couldn't eat another thing the rest of the day. It's twenty-four hours later and I'm still not hungry. 

Anyway, those of us who had not left town hung out for quite some time before I had to get back and address my plumbing problem. Which, now I suppose has to be explained. It is a REAL plumbing problem, not a female problem, like a couple of guys I know thought. Especially after I alluded to a plugged up pipe. And hoses. It went downhill from there. So, to be clear, the problem is not a female issue. But one that involves things leaking and, well, enough said.

But, plumbers take time off too, so I have to wait until after the holiday to get it fixed -- mainly so I won't be paying double overtime rates.

Meanwhile I'll try to make do with the Bears' game and wonder if I'll ever get hungry again.