Out To Lunch

I’ve had fun fixin’ lunch for some dear friends lately. Lunch doesn’t overwhelm me. Dinner parties? Another story. Hubby has to help me. I get too caught up in the details—and the fact that I’m not a fabulous cook. I’m adequate, at best. He, on the other hand, is AMAZING. He’s always liked to grill, but once he started watching The Food Network—I guess from its beginnings (I swear he’d leave me for Paula Deen—well, I’d leave him for Tom Selleck—so we’re even)—he’s really “turned up the heat” (cackle/giggle) and has become quite The At-Home Chef. He’s expanded his talents to include baking (breads, biscuits, fantastic desserts), Dutch oven cooking—outside naturally—and “presentation.”

Autumn and our long-time friend, Ginny, came last Friday for a semi-healthy and, hopefully, delish mid-day meal. There was lots o’ laughter—these two ladies are hysterical. Autumn is: beautiful, smart/clever (as y’all can see from her many funny comments over the past months), and quite the creative and talented artiste. We’ve known each other for over 24 years. Her son and TLC grew up at church and in school together. Autumn and I used to be dedicated to walking—at least three days a week—for years. We solved problems people didn’t even know they had. We were sure we could fix this cRaZy World. I miss those (yep—younger) times. She and her hubby moved thirty miles away several years ago—making our “in person” get-togethers too few and far between.

image via moi

just keepin' it simple...

how can you ever go wrong with lemon poppy cupcakes
from Ultimate Cupcake in Hudson Oaks, Texas?

So, I have challenged TLC to a “Lunch Bunch” game. We’d each think of five people for whom we’d like to fix lunch. These are my RULES:

1. It can only be one (two MAX—if absolutely necessary) person (and one of hers canNOT be the Pattinson Fellow—that’s just not right);
2. They have to be living (or appear to be alive);
3. It can’t be anyone we currently know.

My “guest” choices would be (in no particular order)... drumroll...

Robin Roberts. She is a class act—makes my early weekday mornings tres better. I turn on GMA and she immediately makes me LOL. She’s warm, smart and has tons o’ spunk. She seems positively fearless to me. When she battled breast cancer, I was inspired. She is truly my new Idol. Being tall and svelte, she could probably have dessert without experiencing my chronic shame and guilt. I’d forgive her, though.

Garth Brooks. I suppose he might have to bring Trish. Except she’s clearly a great cook and that could intimidate me. I became a Garth fan when I heard his first hit (TLC was five going on six years old—she’ll have to tell you the story of her encounter with Garth sometime soon): Much Too Young To Feel This Damn Old. Then If Tomorrow Never Comes. I’ve seen him twice in concert. Marketing fascinates me—and Garth is clearly brilliant at marketing. Okay, I confess. I’d like to sing The Dance with him. (I’d have suggested that he bring his guitar.) A duet—unless Trish needs to horn in. Whatever.

Lily Tomlin. I have adored her from the second I saw her on Laugh-In fortyish years ago. She has got to be one of the most talented women in comedy EVER. Her characters are amazing. About twenty years ago, Hubby was in San Francisco for a convention. I couldn’t go. It was back when you had to communicate on a landline phone (The Stone Age), so I waited with excitement each night, waiting for him to call, to hear about his day. The third night I remember becoming worried as it started getting late and I hadn’t heard from him. I’d tried his room a couple of times—The Worrier—hoping TLC would not catch on to my fear. The phone (FINALLY) rang about 10ish. I might have been a wee bit sharp to him. But there was unmistakable excitement in his voice.

“Guess who I just literally ran into?” Seriously? Where would I begin? “No idea,” I said with sweetness.

“Lily Tomlin,” he practically screamed. “Wwwhhhhaaaaatttttt?” I screamed back.

“She’s got her show at a theater near my hotel and I’ve walked by it for two nights. Tonight, after dinner, I was there at the exact minute a limo pulled up. I walked right into her! She’s really small. As I looked down at her, I stumbled and fumbled and said: ‘It’s…it’s… it’s YOU!’”

She immediately answered: “Yes, it is! It’s me!” He said her eyes were beautifully expressive and happy—literally twinkling.

Then a bodyguard swooped her away into the theater. Hubby said he stood there—in a daze. We both love her. Okay, fine. I may have to stretch my rule, again, and say Hubby can come to lunch. Geez.

Bob Harper. You know him—the trainer on The Biggest Loser. Isn’t he the dearest, most awesome man? I can thank TLC and her Hubby for getting me addicted to The Biggest Loser. I think of them every single last time I cry buckets of tears—which is every night I watch it. I have come to adore Bob. I bought his book just to have his picture on my nightstand. (Shhh… Hubby hasn’t noticed yet.) I didn’t really want to read all of it—he seemed serious about eating right and exercising. Sheesh. I want him to come to my house—sit down for a visit—and encourage me, motivate me, inspire me.  (Maybe I’ll get to meet him soon, because apparently I’m subconsciously trying to get big enough to be a contestant on the show. The mindless eating of sugar and white flour is STOPPING. Tomorrow.)

Meg Ryan. Maybe an odd choice, although I think TLC would get it. Some of my all-time favorite movies star Meg. When Harry Met Sally—Sleepless in Seattle—You’ve Got Mail (all fantastic—but You’ve Got Mail is the best.) She’s the cutest thing and has aged well (although there were a few seconds when some possible work done was not quite what I would have thought she expected—seems fine now, though—whew). I’d love to look like her—be skinny like her—have her fashionista style—her unusual-but-they-ALWAYS-work haircuts. She seems exceptionally private, doesn’t she? She’d by my challenge guest. It’d be fun to see if I could coax her into spillin’ it. All of it. Okay, she can bring Billy Crystal and Tom Hanks, too. I HEART BOTH OF THEM.

SO, there you have it.

TLC—you’re up next, Sista Friend. Can’t wait!!! (Remember the rules, please.)