Seven pizzas

We made six large and one small pizza tonight – and I was doughgirl. You get in a groove and I just kept going until I had quite a stack. We put them in the refrigerator and starting chopping ingredients. Other people put everything together and did the oven work and I grabbed a few little bites here and there. Summer made a pizza she called “Only I know what’s on it” and one where the crust was shaped like an “S” for, she said, snake.

Alison outdid herself with a pizza that was so high it could be measured in inches;

There is no reason for the accounting of this pizza afternoon and evening, but it typed itself out. No, it didn’t – I am being silly. I typed it, but I felt like I was on autopilot; I guess you could say the rendition was not presented with feeling. That is probably because I feel a little fuguey. Sort of, well? What now?

Today while running some films back to Family Video, I started thinking about some of my favorite times. I always liked the moments just before touchdown at Limbergh Field. Walking in the jet way and coming out at the very end of the terminal arm.  Seeing the statues in the fountains.

Then riding in the passenger seat as we travelled on the busy roads to Pacific Beach. The knowing that this was the first day there. There is no reason why I loved SD and PB as much as I did. Maybe it was the bougainvillea.

Today I was in the very rural middle of Noble County on narrow roads that grid-systemed their way at right angles through fields. It is not bad scenery. It is fertile; it has trees and hedgerows and old farmhouses. I dread the possibility of not having my village corner in the county just north of here to call home in the future. Corn School on the courthouse square.  But, for all this, I cannot be satisfied.

That’s my problem – I always want more.

I don’t know why this is.

So much for autopilot . . . I guess I don’t have a direction.