Hick Really, Really Likes Pizza

My sweet baboo volunteered to do the Walmart shopping this morning. Actually, he volunteered last night. He asked me for the list at 7:15 this morning. As you might surmise, I did not have the list made yet, having devoted all my energy to surviving the night, and trying to catch up on the sleep deficit of approximately 33 hours, which has been accruing since a week ago Wednesday.

Hick declared that he wasn't ready to shop YET. Just as well, because his assistant, The Pony, was still abed. They eventually left at 10:15 and returned at 11:30. Giving me time to nod off intermittently in the recliner under a toasty afghan.

Hick stuck to the list admirably. Unlike that time we were first married, finances tight, and he lost the list on the way to the store and spent $35 on cookies and ice cream. One little hiccup this morning was the pizza he picked out.

I had put on the list that he could get a pizza from the Walmart deli if he so desired. Not in those words, though. We haven't had one of them in about 6 months, and he used to ask for them when I made the list. Which I suppose says more about my cooking than about Hick's eating habits. I always get the supreme. Then I pick the pepperoni off half and stick it on Hick's part, and all the red, green, and yellow peppers off and stick them on my part. We're the Spratts like that.

Hick brought home the 3-meat pizza. Which is fine. I still pick off the pepperoni. But the pizza Hick brought home looked like something off of Man vs. Food. It was bigger than a man-hole cover. Bigger that a drainage pipe that prisoners can escape through. Bigger than a Hoover Dam outflow pipe.

Then Hick proceeded to ask how to cook that behemoth, because he was ready for lunch. Let the record show that while Val daily eats her school lunch at the scheduled time of 10:53, she has been off her feed, and was not at all ready to tackle this gargantuan feast at 11:30 a.m. Hick had a small hissy-fit, declaring that he wanted two pieces, but that we could save the rest and warm it up for supper. Meaning that he would wolf it down in less than five minutes, and Val would be left portioning and storing the leftovers. Then Hick decided, "Don't do nothin' for me! I'll eat a baloney sandwich!" and stalked out. Most likely with the thought of making his own bologna sandwich heavy on his mind.

Anyhoo...we (and by "we" I mean me, myself, and I ) cooked that humongous meatzza for supper. I sawed it up into slices. Then I put a large flat generic Tupperware container on the counter, and told Hick he could save the leftovers in that when they cooled. Yes, I know he took over an hour out of his busy schedule to do the shopping for me. But I've been sick. With no steroids. Hick looks like he could compete in an Iron Man competition.

I'm sure my sweet baboo won't mind putting away the meatzza leftovers. So we have food to get us through the winter. It's not like he has to boil them up and pressurize them into the 7853 Ball and Mason jars he has collected.