The Father of My Children got a last-minute plane ticket to Mitten-Shaped State to hear Snowman play Brahms and Barber solos with the Orchestra at Land O'Lakes Arts Academy, and Blonde Cousin wins the friend lottery as a result. She will take his ticket and go with Light Princess to the City Hall Auditorium tonight to hear Stomp!
The girls convened earlier and are upstairs discussing outfits, boys and online "dolling" as only two 13-year-olds can. A few minutes ago they came downstairs and Light Princess said, "We were thinking about dinner."
(There is a pause in the conversation, during which I recall an earlier conversation in which I suggested we eat the beautiful three cheese focaccia bread I bought at a local bakery, perhaps dipping it into tomato sauce.
"That," she answered, "doesn't sound very healthy."
I suggested adding a salad.
"Salad," she answered. "It doesn't have much nutritional value."
I briefly considered homicide.
No, really, only briefly.)
(So pardon me for wondering what sort of vegan, organic extravaganza might be suggested by these young ladies.)
"We were thinking about pizza," my daughter continued, and I saw looks of, I don't know, edgy anticipation on their faces.
(Because pizza is nothing like three-cheese focaccia with sauce, right? It's MUCH healthier.)
"Okay," I said.
"What?!?!!" This from both of them.
"We thought it would be harder," admitted my niece.
(They fail to understand: I am still working on my sermon.)
"What kind of pizza do you want?"
"Could we get that one with the ricotta cheese on it?" they ask me, cheerfully.
"You mean the one from R's, with the little spritzles of ricotta and four other cheeses and no tomato sauce?"
(Because that is NOTHING like three cheese focaccia. I had no idea the SAUCE was going to make it so unhealthy. Or perhaps the loss of two extra cheeses?)
I ask Pure Luck if he is okay with pizza for dinner.
(This is probably the most hilarious part of the conversation, since he has been known to say that they can pry his pizza from his cold, dead hands, Heston-like.)
Pure Luck is on board with pizza. He will even pick it up for us.
I order the pizza.
(I think I understand why Barbara Brown Taylor is famous, and I am not.)