Thursday, July 07, 2005
and certainly more interesting than the two slices of pizza that I was about to and in fact did eat following my last entry is the dream that Holly had the other night:
In the dream my friends and I were hanging out and we found ourselves bemoaning the absence of our friend the Chucker. Chucker was away in Israel (both in and out of the dream) and we decided (now back in the dream entirely) that we'd get him to come to see us by ordering a pizza from the pizzeria where he was working. So he came and delivered the pie. Holly says that even in the dream she realized foggily that this was really not logical, but for some reason if we ordered the pizza he had to come and deliver it. (My own theory on this ties in the billions of dollars the U.S. has given to Israel in foreign aid. Some payback, they get weapons and we get a pizza.) Later we wanted to see the Chucker again but he'd finished his shift so I only ordered a small pie.
Unbeknownst to Holly (Just a mid-wife, or a mid-wife possessing extra-sensory powers?! You decide.) the Chucker had returned the day before and his wife was in the throws of labor that very night! So whereas in Holly's mind the Chucker was returning from Israel to deliver a phantasmal pizza, in fact he had returned from Israel to witness the delivery of his newborn son!
Both mother and baby are in the pink of health. With mushrooms.
Friday, June 24, 2005
Singing for my supper
I realize that this will make something of a ridiculous post, but a rule is a rule. I've got two slices that have been sitting in my fridge since the night of the last post and it's lunchtime and I've got to eat them. It'd be a crime not to.
But really, what more can I tell you? If you read my last post you know that I was eagerly awaiting the arrival of a pie that Holly & I had ordered from Gino's on Flatbush. Again with the poison pizza, I know. But in truth it wasn't altogether bad.
I finished that post before the pizza man arrived and when he did I went downstairs and took the pie from him. He was a shortish man, probably mid-thirties, of Latin or Central-American descent. The pie (with mushrooms) was $14. I gave the man a $3 tip? Does that seem high to you, dear reader? I'm uncertain about this. For some reason, $2 seems too little, but $3 seems too high. What's a boy to do? The box was quite hot and I commented on this off-handedly, and the man said "Hot pizza is good." I agreed with this bicycle-bound Socrates, with the caveat "but not too hot." It would seem that I am the Plato of the pizza delivery man set.
Holly & I decided, since it was a pleasant evening, to emerge from our cave and take the pizza up onto the roof. I carried plates, the box of pizza, two cloth napkins and put the salt and red pepper shakers in the pockets of my shorts. I was extra careful with the salt, not wanting to incur any bad luck, especially just before eating a pizza. Holly carried up a mostly empty bottle of ginger ale for herself, along with two glasses, one with water in it (for me) and one already with some ginger ale. I also took two paper towels in case the chairs that were on the roof or the table were wet. I arrived to discover that they weren't. I took two more comfortable chairs that were stashed in the hallway just outside of the roof entrance and put them alongside the table that someone had brought up there. "Whoever put this table up here is a genius," Holly commented. Perhaps it was our pizza delivery man.
We were both ravenous, and put away three slices apiece (for those of you doing the math at home, that means that I have two slices remaining in my refridgerator). The pizza was fine, the right temperature, and sitting up on our roof on a cool late spring evening it would have to be pretty bad for me to complain. We talked about the upcoming 4th of July and how in my previous experience this was a lousy place to watch the fireworks as they were generally fired too far uptown (on the East River) or directly behind the tall buildings that would block our view in downtown Brooklyn.
We finished our pizza, returned the chair to their places, put the unused paper towels with them for future rain-water clearance, and went back down to our apartment with our plates and glasses and the two uneaten slices still in the box.