The child and I decided to stop by the fairly new Spark's Firehouse Deli in Puyallup. I was eyeballing their sandwiches, but then realized they also made flame-fired pizzas. The decision was made: I ordered a sixteen-inch diameter pizza—Canadian bacon and black olive—for the child and myself. For lunch. Sixteen inches. For two of us. I don't know what I was thinking.
The waitress came out to inform me that they had mistakenly added pineapple to our pizza and that they were making another. I replied that the child loved pineapple and I could pick it off. This pizza would do. She brought it out to us. Then she told us that they would be giving us the pizza we ordered to take home at no charge. "That really isn't necessary," I pleaded. It was already being baked. Oh well. The child and I ate half of the original pizza. We were stuffed. And then our second pizza arrived, ready for its journey home with us. We were now the proud owners of one-and-one-half pizzas.
After our hearty lunch, we decided to go battle our walnut tree. It had dumped half of its leaves on the lawn and we were determined to remove at least half of those. We did.
Half of the front yard was relatively clear for fifteen minutes. We were putting away rakes and the wheelbarrow and the yard waste container when heavy rain began to fall and the wind picked up. Once again, the walnut tree unleashed a shower of leaves and the yard soon looked like it had only a short time before. Oh well. We headed into the house for the wearing of sweaters and the reading of Dr. Seuss stories.
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