After a particularly action packed day of hiking and tubing starting at the ungodly hour of four a.m. (more on that later), it was really nice to come home yesterday and just be.
My mom was cleaning the floors to HGTV’s Fixer Upper and the dogs were doing what they do best: lounging, sleeping and patrolling the now spotless tile for errant food particles. The entire scene was so domestic, I felt instantly relaxed and at ease.
So as not to negate my mother’s cleaning efforts with my Pig-Penness, I hopped in the shower and further decompressed. You’ll understand why this was so necessary later.
Following the shower, I spent the next hour sprawled out on the couch with my
puppy geriatric dog, Stella, watching the aforementioned Fixer Upper with my mom. HGTV sure knows how to hook you in for that whole hour. And the clincher: they start a new episode without a commercial break! Of course you won’t change the channel once you get to know the new couple and see the first house!
The premise of the show, for those of you who do not watch HGTV religiously (you are missing out): a contractor and designer married duo meet up with a new couple each episode to assist them in purchasing a new home, gutting it and completely renovating the interior and exterior (on a modest budget.)
It’s pretty amazing what these two can do and the final product at the end of each episode almost makes me want to settle down and get a house of my own. Just kidding. But seriously, this couple is crazy talented.
Well through the course of the hour and subsequent hour (it was a marathon after all), there must have been seven or eight pizza commercials. After the sixth one, I had had enough. I wanted pizza. I stated my desire to my mother who quickly responded, “Me too.”
So we vacated our spots on the couch and migrated to the kitchen to start making our own. For me, this meant fluffing the dough, rolling the crust, spreading the pesto, chopping the onion, sprinkling the cheese (lightly, because otherwise cheese is gross) and tossing on the pepperonis. My mother went considerably more gourmet by substituting my onion and pepperoni with artichoke hearts and diced cherry tomatoes as well as adding splotches of tomato sauce (an idea I think I will lift on my next attempt.)
I may not have had all the ingredients to make my favorite pizza, but I’ll be damned if it wasn’t one tasty meal. Angling our chairs so we could catch the end of the episode, we appreciatively nibbled on our pizza halves in silence.
A TV marathon with my mom, interrupted only by the creation and consumption of my favorite food— I couldn’t have asked for a better night at home.
In exactly one month, I leave the United States on my epic trip to Southeast Asia. With each day passing at seemingly record speed, I take particular enjoyment in quiet evenings such as these.
I won’t have too many more of them.