Being that we had an extra hour today (daylight savings), Dr. BJ and I decided to invite That’s Not Chinese and Tree over for brunch. I was excited to make them German pancakes, so I preheated the oven, got the ingredients ready and then tried to open the oven door – to no avail. Turns out it was locked. I bought the oven ‘used’ several years ago and the latch has never locked. As a result, I’ve never benefited from the self-cleaning feature.
After several attempts to open the oven door, I broke the news to Dr. BJ and That’s Not Chinese. “I’m telling you,” Dr. BJ said with great confidence, “It’s Agnes.” The oven definitely seems to be spirited in some ways. Every now and again the interior light starts flashing, as if someone is hosting a disco inside. Today, however, there was no disco, the oven was on lockdown. We discussed moving brunch to That’s Not Chinese’ house, but I refused to let Agnes win. “We’ll just do scrambled eggs on the stove top,” I declared. “And, while the oven is locked, I think I’ll go ahead and clean it.” Dr. BJ and I selected the ‘Clean Oven’ option, watched the timer begin, and walked away.
That’s Not Chinese left to retrieve Tree and Dr. BJ and I decided we should start cooking the eggs. We returned to the kitchen to find the oven was no longer in clean mode and the door was still latched locked. “Agnes is really messing with you today,” Dr. BJ noted. We decided, again, not to let her win and began disassembling the oven door. Within minutes, the door was unlatched. Unfortunately, we could not figure out how to do reassemble the door. Fortunately, the retro meets modern look is really growing on us and the pancakes were delicious.
That’s Not Chinese was in charge of mimosas and kindly asked each of us, “Orange juice or champagne?” With the exception of That’s Not Chinese, we all had both orange juice and champagne. Last I checked, a mimosa is juice (typically orange) and champagne. If a mimosa was champagne alone, wouldn’t one just call it champagne? How quickly I forget our brunch last March.
We had finished breakfast and decided to open the second bottle of champagne. Popping the cork is a job normally designated to That’s Not Chinese. She had assumed her responsibility, and was chatting with us while doing so, when all of a sudden the cork flew out of the bottle, hit the chandelier, ricocheted off the wall and landed safely on the floor. That’s Not Chinese was dumbfounded, “I let it slip through my hands. I never let it slip through my hands and, it just shot out.” “That happens a lot,” Dr. BJ responded and then looked at me and said, “BW.”