You thought I would choose Doritos, didn’t you?

If this were a paying gig, Ivy would have soooo fired me already. I’ve dragged my feet on writing this post for so long, she would be totally justified in doing so. But! There is a reason! In my opinion, a very good reason, that I took so long.

When I got this writing prompt in my email from Mama’s Losin’ It, and Ivy and I decided to run with it, I knew in a heartbeat what I would write about: pizza. Oh. My. God. I could eat pizza ~ obscene quantities of pizza ~ pretty much every day. Doesn’t much matter if it’s thin or thick crust, stuffed or not, or even if it’s of relatively decent quality: as long as there aren’t any olives of green peppers on it, I’ll pretty much eat it in any form. (And even then, I would probably just pick the offensive toppings off.)

Carsten loves pizza as much or more so than I do, and since we haven’t made homemade pizza in a while, I thought we should make some ~ you know, in honor of the blog post. But then there’s the whole bit with letting the dough rise (takes time!); and working around the kids’ evening schedules so that we’d have plenty of time to actually make the pizza; and then really, there’s the root of the problem: if it’s here, I will eat it. And since I’ve been working my way towards being the valedictorian of diet management on My Fitness Pal (not really; I sort of suck at diet management), making pizza for dinner didn’t seem like a wise idea, because food has been my Achilles heel in this whole workout/weight loss business.

Though a slacker blogger I might be, I would not stoop so low as to not hold up my end of the blogging bargain! So in the interest of being a reliable blogger, I made pizza.

Thinking it would be a fun little family project to make pizza together, I picked a night when the kids had no activities, and Noel did not have to work late. But it turned out that the evening I picked, both kids got invited to go play at a friend’s house, and Noel decided to mow the lawn. Alas, I was left alone with a ball of dough, a pound of mozzarella, some sauce and a plethora of pepperoni. Dangerous, indeed.

This is how I felt making the pizza:

Not because everyone abandoned me, but because I promised myself I would not eat pizza. And then, I had to quickly get rid of the sad-faced pizza before Anna walked in and saw it, because if the pizza was sad, she would be sad, and then she would not want to eat it. I’m not even kidding; she is still working on eating a small chocolate bunny that she got in her Easter basket weeks ago, because she felt bad about eating the rabbit ~ poor thing!

Anyway, I was bummed about making pizza, because I had already planned that I was going to have salmon instead. Because I knew if I ate one piece of pizza, I would want six, and that, would be a problem. And you know what? I did not eat even one slice of this:

Yes, that is two different sizes of pepperoni on there. Why, you ask? That’s just how we roll….

Yes, I agree: there should be some kind of award for that! But, as the saying goes, “abs are made in the kitchen,” and they are definitely not made out of pizza. Though that evening, I was not sure if I felt better or worse about my feat of great restraint. Sigh. But the fact of the matter is, if I could eat one food every day, without regard to calories or health, pizza would be my drug of choice.

That is the sad, s-l-o-w-l-y disappearing chocolate bunny, just to her left.

Just out of curiosity, this makes me wonder what the pizza situation is like in Dublin. Ivy, can you get good pizza there? I remember when I briefly lived in France, the pizza was rather disappointing ~ and it often came (strangely) topped with a fried egg. We do not do fried eggs on our pizza here. We have also tried pizza in Norway. It was ok, but again, not the same as at home. It (along with Nutella) did, however, save Carsten from utter starvation during our stay, as the fish-heavy diet of the Norwegians did not appeal to him at all. Lastly, we tried some pizza in London. Again, it was ok, but nothing spectacular ~ though you can see from the photo that the lackluster quality did not stop me from eating it, even after I’d already had a spectacularly huge and delicious meal of Indian food just prior:

The pigeons were also not particular about the quality of the pizza. Who knew we have so much in common?

Ivy, you know if you ever come to visit, we are totally gorging on chocolate cake and pizza! (Uh, minus the pigeons, of course.)

What is your favorite, eat-with-wild-abandon food?

Photo Challenge – Day 13 (Something Creative)

When you’re 8 years old, what do you get your brother for his 11th birthday?

A video game-themed Cootie Catcher, naturally.

Anna made this Cootie Catcher for Carsten:

Instead of the usual categories that you find on cootie catchers, this one has some rather unique ones:

  • Bombs
  • Explosions
  • Zombies
  • Black Ops

The “fortunes” inside are equally unique:

  • A giant toad will come and eat you
  • You will get an F on something
  • You will train bears and own a sniper
  • You will get sucked in a black hole
  • You will be forced to eat mutilated monkey meat
  • You will proceed a level in Black Ops
  • You will fall in a 5-foot hole
  • Your arm will fall off (a little disturbing…..considering it’s currently broken!)

Perfectly, creatively tailored to 11-year old boys, don’t you think?!