Brunch

It's just after 11 a.m., and I'm scaling the steps into Copper Cellar.

Too hot for slacks today, so I wear a Hawaiian shirt, blue jeans and loafers. I left the Tigers cap at home. So much for "Magnum, p.i."

The Sunday brunch here is one of my favorites. It's much better than the overrated Italian Market.

Oh, that's not fair. The food is good there. I just don't care to shout over the ubiquitous saxophone player blaring away with the jazz trio up front.

Today we request Michael's table. Unlike most of the younger crew, whom I suspect are largely pooled from UT's student body, Michael is top notch. You don't go thirsty. You don't want for much during your stay.

I start with eggs, bacon, a bagel, biscuits and gravy and half a waffle. Didn't have to take out a mortgage to pay for brunch today. Grandma got me a Copper Card for Christmas. (Thanks, Mamaw!)

Over lunch, we discuss county politics and baseball. We also watch the assembled diners. You never know what you'll see here.

Today we see folks in suits -- straight from church and scrubbed up nice. Then there's the guy who looked like he jumped ship from a hippie commune.

"How much you want to bet he thinks Ronald Reagan is too liberal," somebody says, and we laugh at the joke.

I alternate between sips of water and orange juice. Can't drink Cokes anymore. Don't want another kidney stone. Or six.

We leave with our bellies full. Michael says it's good to see us. Come back soon.

Don't worry Michael. We'll see you next week.

Gotta go. Greg Maddux is pitching on ESPN tonight...