9:37am
Saint Paul
Is it the smell?
Most certainly–especially when it’s steaming hot.
As my grandpa used to say:
“I’ve stepped in better stuff.”
And all my life, I’ve tried to avoid being around it. Which is sorta impossible, because somehow… in some undefinable, unfathomable way… it excites everyone.
I’m talking, of course, about…
Pizza.
Yep, the late-night, easy-dinner, cold-breakfast, find-it-anywhere, everyone’s-favorite “food.”
And it’s not like I overdosed on ‘za way back when, and I’ve had my fill.
Nope.
As long as I can remember…
Just. Nope.
As a kid, birthday parties were the worst because they would always serve pizza.
Or the baseball team would go out for pizza.
And I’d be surrounded by the stench, that unique blend of basil, thyme, oregano, onion, and garlic, with cooked tomatoes, browned cheese and fresh baked bread–ingredients that work so well in any other dish!
Now, pasta with red sauce? I’m in.
Chips and cheese with salsa? Yep.
But pizza, that combo of delicious ingredients that somehow adds up to whole that’s less than the sum of its parts?
Pass.
Ok, ok, I will eat it, if only because it’s important to do things we don’t love…
And also show my kids that we don’t always get what we want, and we have to accept that reality of life (and dinner).
But when it comes down to it, when I pick up a pizza for Friday night–with the car windows down even in winter–I’ll just as often order myself a hoagie, or find leftovers, or grill up a steak.
Because life’s short.
And I, too, have stepped in better stuff.
*|FNAME|*, it’s Friday.
Guess what’s on tonight’s menu?
Love you, but not the ‘za,
Jeffrey
P.S. Tell me I’m not wrong?