White Dog sat straight up in the middle of her pre-Sunday brunch nap and said, "Hey! Today is Bastille Day!" YoYoMa opened one eye and responded, "Don't be a peasant. It is called La Fete Nationale!" WD bared her teeth and issued a warning at her brother's name calling; Oso stepped between them and suggested that we might celebrate with something French on the brunch menu.
Suddenly the entire White Dog Army was awake and staring at Steve. "How about it, mon ami, feeling like letting them eat cake?" I teased Steve who is both an excellent cook and fluent in French.
He shrugged and offered this menu..."How about blueberry and pecan pancakes, oops, I mean crepes with a cheese filing, some bacon and maybe a crustless lemon custard?" Tails were wagging. I looked at Steve. "Sounds like oodles of work."
"If I can engage the services of my loyal sous chefs, we will have things going in no time," He said. Quinn, Oso, and Nuka headed for the kitchen and Yo positioned himself in the doorway; he is the official spoon licker. We girls, WD, Puff and I, settled comfortably in the living room to wait and read the newspaper. In the background the soft jazz of Jean Michel Jarre caressed us.
After the craziness of Saturday, this was a blessed gift...just relaxing with the Pack and being home. And the most wonderful part was that we had no other commitments, nothing else to do. We were going to spend the day together living in the moment.
"To Liberté, égalité, fraternité," WD toasted as brunch was served. She looked over at YoYoMa and snidely explained, " That is French for "Liberty, equality, fraternity, but they mean brotherhood."
"Here's one that is most appropriate and won't get you two going round and round," Steve interrupted..."bon appetit!"