Family get-togethers at my house are always a little bit strange with the main problem being that these events usually revolve around some kind of task or situation that requires the expertise of my father. Last weekend was a prime example when on Saturday afternoon my father and brother arrived hungry. While my father crawled under my truck to inspect the leaking brake line, I heated up the grill, placed plates and utensils on the patio table and started covering the watermelon with ice. After serving everyone bratwursts, lots of tomatoes, and sauerkraut, I lit the citronella candles and settled down to eat. The next morning, my dad and brother arrived early, and they were hungry again. I organized the table, ushered them to their seats and started breakfast. A dozen eggs, pieces of bacon and some bread later, and finallymy male relatives were ready to attack the leaky brakes of my Dodge Dakota.