Take the B69 or the B67 from the Church Avenue and McDonald stop to the Roma Pizza on 7th Avenue at Union, grab a slice, eat it fast, then run over to the coop and package raisins and dates and those weird carob greens snacks for two and a half hours. Repeat every four weeks on the Sunday. 

A. made pizza in her apartment with central air and I stopped by and we ate and talked and talked and talked and talked.

O. and I ate pizza and watched a monster truck rally on the television while we waited for the clock to roll around to K.’s turn to hang with O. and my turn to work my coop shift. It is just plain bonkerz what they make those trucks do. They’re too big to do a 360 aerial!

It was silly but I was actually kind of nervous about my food processing shift, I hadn’t done it before, what would happen, where would I put my coat? So of course I darted out of my apartment thinking it would take me an hour to get there when really it took twenty minutes, sat at the pizza place and ate two slices. A kid pushed the button endlessly on this yellow plastic minion toy to make it make minion sounds. How his family stands it, I have no idea.

I packed a salad from home but by the time I got out of my dentist appointment I was so hungry I just couldn’t wait. I stopped at a pizza spot on the way back to the office and wolfed down a slice that cost $3.50. Looking at the clientele I could sort of tell why it cost that much. Apparently it’s super gourmet.

I ordered a pepperoni pizza using the pizza ordering app and waited for it to come so I could eat it with a beer watching the football game. Not the worst way to spend a Saturday.

O. and I had to get ourselves to Brooklyn Bridge Park to watch the soccer game because that’s where St. Joseph’s plays its home games. That meant a bunch of walking and nothing really good on the way so we stopped at the pizza place on the way to the train station and ate pizza with the promise of an additional hot dog if we ran into a stand at the park. I’m surprised I’ve managed to keep both us alive all this time.

I was so nervous about the race that all I could think about was how nervous I was. And that I needed to be eating a bunch of carbs. So K. and I stopped and got a slice of pizza and then we stopped and got a ham sandwich with K. It was a lot of bread. Sweet, sweet bread.

I grabbed a slice before heading upstairs to meet D. to work on the paper, even though most of what I had to report was that I didn’t have much to report. I’ll never understand the rationale behind taking my order and then not taking my money right away and now there’s just this mass of people who haven’t paid all waiting in a rowdy crowd for one slice. Which slice is my slice? Thing needs to be service-designed.

Mom picked me up at the airport, we drove to the mall and went bra shopping, then popped into the Cheesecake Factory for lunch. It was all very Boise. I had the pizza and salad lunch combo, a combo because it was two things you ordered together. Mom showed me her library card, and then picked up the tab. Welcome home!