The Anchovy Birthday

When I was a child my mother introduced me to anchovy pizza.  It's not something that's a favorite of many people, and more to the point it's a hated, repulsive topping to many people.  Worse yet, an anchovy pizza at a table can smell and bother your friends and family around you and thus make you and your meal objects of contempt and verbal abuse.

So I didn't order anchovy pizza often as a child and as an adult, I find I only really want anchovy pizza about once every eighteen months.  The eighteen months must have rolled around again because I decided that's just what I wanted for my birthday dinner.  Off we go to get pizza, only, "Which place do you want to go to, honey?"  "Um, I don't care, it's your birthday."  "Well, I can't decide, do you have a preference?"  And so on it went until my husband got on the highway in the wrong direction from the place I thought we'd decided on.

So we went to the other, just as good but different, place and we sat down and I ordered my two slices of anchovy pizza.  And then the server finds out they're out of anchovies.  He's excessively apologetic.  My husband said if he had turned the other direction on the highway I'd be having anchovy pizza tonight and he was sorry too.  I wasn't upset though, my craving could wait.  Their pizza was good.  It didn't need anchovies on it to make it a good meal.

Then, a few days later, we go out to dinner with my cousin's family.  And her daughter, who is my niece, (which makes no familial relationship sense at all but that's how we decided we were related one day for simplicity's sake so just you should just roll with it,) suggested we go to one of those wood-fired pizza places.

Great idea, good food, and this place wasn't out of anchovies.  I suppose I was craving anchovies more than I expected because I ate the whole pizza.  I don't recollect eating a whole pizza...well...before.  I'm sure as a youth I did, but I typically get full before I can finish the whole thing, even if I think I'm all over it when the pizza is delivered to my seat.

It's the next day and it's bedtime here but I'm thinking about that anchovy pizza, the fun dinner with family and how I think I could eat another pizza right now if it was sitting in front of me.  It might not be eighteen months before I order anchovy pizza again...

The Big Boy Update:  The limp.  He has a limp, has had a limp since Tuesday.  It doesn't seem to be getting better but there is no sign of what it is and he won't tell us where it's bothering him.  We've been hoping it will get better because it's from where he bruised himself or something simple, but we may have to take him to the doctor tomorrow and see if they can figure out anything before we leave for vacation on Tuesday.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  She pushed him back.  We are eagerly awaiting "The Great Smack Down," which is the day my daughter will be old enough and big enough and fed up enough to bully her brother back.  It's not yet happened, but she's getting more brazen.  Yesterday, she walked up to him and pushed him and said, "No!" and was defiant about it, even though her push was fairly tame in comparison to what her brother does to her.  When the smack down truly starts, Aunt Brenda is going to be the first one we call because she predicted it was coming.  And so it seems to be.  We see Aunt Brenda in two days, maybe she'll catch it in person?

Fitness Update:  Eight miles with my neighbor in the light, in the park.  She'd just gotten off work from a twenty-four hour shift at the hospital and for some reason, she wanted to go run for an hour-and-a-half instead of sleep.  We had a nice run through the park.  I overdressed as it was below freezing.  I lost more weight in sweat than I speculate I did on most hot summer runs.

Someone Once Said:  In handling a stinging insect, move very slowly.