By far, the hardest part of our move from Ohio to Florida in 2020 has not been the different weather. It has not been the changes of friends, churches, schedules, hurricanes or droughts. No, none of those have been as difficult as living in Burnt Store Lakes without the ability to order delivery pizza. Literally no one delivers pizza to our subdivision. We tried one or two of the local restaurants that also offer pizza, but nothing was to our liking. What’s worse, even those few nearby restaurants don’t offer delivery.
I guess as young marrieds who now old marrieds we took for granted the luxury of a Friday night at home with a movie, popcorn, and a hot, freshly baked pizza. Nothing fancy usually, although occasionally we would splurge for an “all meats.” But cholesterol concerns eventually put an end to that.
In our part of Ohio, you could count on a Cassano’s pizza – thin as cardboard with just a little too much salt. And nothing beats Marion’s pizza cut in small bite-size squares; no matter how much you eat, just one more seems to be do-able. Feeling fancy? Order from Giovanni’s, a family with authentic Sicilian pizza and a legacy to be proud of.
Ah, but no more. Now on a Friday night when we are feeling lazy, we do a bowl of cereal or a snack plate. Where’s the fun in that?
How I long to pick up my phone and speed dial my way to a warm, freshly baked pie with sausage, a little pepperoni, cheese, heavy sauce, and if you ordered it, a side of garlic butter. I would sit on my sofa and anticipate the arrival of a small car in my driveway. It might necessitate a big tip, but please send that driver my way. I would be so thankful.
Am I only dreaming of a pleasure not likely to happen again? I hear a rumble, not thunder, as I dwell here in pizza purgatory, and I sit (hungry) on my lanai.
