We didn't make the forty-five minute trek north very often.  My family seemed quite content to stay at home on the weekend.  I had my butt-grove claim on my favorite chair and squandered many a Saturday on a good book and little else.  In retrospect I understand my mother's frustration.  She tried so hard to impart her wisdom.  Tips in the kitchen.  Tips in the garden.  And I would just nod and turn another page - not hearing a word - not caring because I wouldn't need any of that in the "real world".  Like algebra.  Or gym class.  Turns out you do need it.  I am forever calling my mother with tedious questions like, "do I cook the turkey with the lid on?" which I have to ask her every time I stick a bird in the oven.  (What a fowl mess I'd be in without her.) And I used algebra last week - sorry Mr. Smith...you were right, I was wrong.

They had lost our order.  I don't know why it took them so long to figure that out but it was FOREVER. I can remember giggling with my sisters, thinking it was a great joke, while mom steadily grew more and more frustrated.  When they finally re-took our orders there was nothing offered in the way of apology.  Not so much as a free Coke.  Mom was disgusted.  We kept giggling, our snickers a little more greasy now that we had the long awaited pizza in our mouths.