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Every time I think I’m getting somewhere in the kitchen, I get knocked down a notch like the big chef in the sky doesn’t care much for my gastronomical efforts. I like simple. I buy cheap frozen pizzas and add leftovers or extra cheese. This does two things: gives me some interesting gourmet tastes and solves getting rid of leftovers. I practice a little discretion with what I add since I’ve eaten some over the top homemade pizzas. In my early married life we were friends with a couple we had known before any of us were married, and their bunch of little kids. They lived life in a free and easy manner much to the horror of her prim and proper mother, but our kids, who were much the same age as theirs, loved going to their house to play. One day when we were about to leave, she invited us to stay for supper. “We’re having pizza,” she said, and our children cheered. The kids loved the pizza which had a really thick topping. I discovered the topping contained shredded venison along with some leftover wieners. Though we ate a lot of pizza the rest of our married life, we never ate one like that.
I found some more expensive frozen pizzas on sale and I couldn’t pass them up. I took the pizza out of the box, cut away the plastic covering, put on some almost moldy cheese from the fridge, and prepared to put it in the oven. I reached down to peel the cardboard off the bottom since I’d rather not have another fire in the kitchen, and I couldn’t get it off. “Wait a minute,” I thought, “Maybe there’s no cardboard on this high-end pizza.” It’s dilemma time in the kitchen again! If I pick the pizza up to see if there is cardboard on the bottom, I’m going to spill the left-over topping addition all over the stove. If I don’t and it is cardboard, I’m going to have a fire. I went with spilling and found that indeed there was no cardboard. So I put the stuff back on the top, even though it was getting a little worn, and the pizza was good.
I think I’ve made some people angry by not going to functions to which I’ve been invited recently. These are parties or dinners at which the company is made up of couples. Many of them are also events that my late wife and I attended regularly. I just can’t do it yet. I’ve talked to several widowers who had the same feelings. Some got over it; some didn’t. I get jealous. “How come he’s got a wife and I don’t?” Is the thought that fills my mind. I’ve never been bitter about what happened. I’ve never said, “Why Me?” But I just can’t handle the happy couple business. I know I’m not alone in this so if you invite someone who has lost a mate, and he or she refuses, don’t blame them. And buy cheap pizzas; you know they have cardboard on the bottom.
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