Color me naïve. I pictured idyllic family Sunday brunches—a Jewish Norman Rockwell scenario with bagels replacing that turkey—but I learned no daydream goes unpunished when I invited everyone for quiche after finally finding a baking dish. Brandy can’t make it; she starts cutting hair at 10 a.m. Liz reports to work Sunday at 9 a.m. Caren’s fine with 11 a.m. Note to self: Re-think familial get-togethers. I get creative. Make brunch for half the crowd, feed Caren and then we take leftovers to Brandy. I get my hair cut. Lunch with Liz on another date. Take that, Norman.