"What are you going to make for Food and Friends?" I ask Kevin as we walk through the mall.
"I don't know."
He's been stressing over this since our last Food and Friends, a get-together we have with two other families. We take turns hosting, have a fabulous evening, the men do the cooking, and boy can they cook! What's not to like about that?
"It's not about the food, you know," I assure him. "It's about the friends."
"Oh yeah? How come it's 'Food and Friends'? Notice how the 'Food' comes first."
"Denny named it. It's his fault."
"See, it's about the food. Especially the meat. I can't grill out hamburgers again."
"Let's just change the name. When we host, we'll call it Friends and Food. There, does that take the pressure off?"
"No. I still don't know what to cook."
I volunteered to do the cooking, but that whole male conquer thing has already kicked in. He still doesn't know what he's making but whatever it is, I can guarantee the Food will pale in comparison to the Friends no matter how good it is. And that's the way it's supposed to be.