Relative Something

Yesterday afternoon, Cyndie underwent a minor surgical procedure on one of her fingers and I was given responsibility for dinner. Our usual routine when it is my turn to cook involves a phone call to Cyndie’s favorite pizza place, Gina Maria’s. When they opened a location near my workplace in Plymouth and offered to deliver half-baked pizzas to our suite for me to take home, I became a regular customer.

Often, when I would call in my order, they ask if I wanted the same thing as last time. Sometimes I did. They make a fantastic deep-dish crust that we find almost irresistible. At the same time, we both love variety, so we occasionally mix it up and go for classic thin.

For last night’s dinner, I ordered a large because it might be the last time I have them deliver to me at work. I warned them that I would be disappearing from their list of regular customers.

This is what they delivered:

The person taking my order reminded me I could always come pick it up myself or have them deliver to our home instead.

“We live in Wisconsin.”

I think that is when they decided to decorate our box.

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