July 21st, 2008


We Bow Our Heads In Remembrance Of Those Who Did Not Make It

Three-Eighths Didn't Make It

We had a plan. It almost worked.

Quick trip to Chicago this weekend and stop for dinner on the way home. We even called and ordered ahead. It should have been perfect, up until our server came back...

And told us that three slices of our pizza had slid off the platter and onto the floor. Man down. Man down. Man down.

A Moment of Silence

Joe Chicago's Pizza: Chicago stuffed pizza. Large. Spinach. Sausage. Mushrooms. Black olives. Roasted red pepppers.

Three of eight slices -- gone just like that. We never knew you, never met. But after forty minutes of baking, nearly half our pizza... splat on the floor. Probably best we didn't see the carnage.

These Things Happen

I immediately could see how easily it happened. Chicago stuffed pizza is dense, weighty stuff. Once it starts moving it has enormous momentum and would be difficult to stop. Lift, move, stop... oops! Off it goes. Lucky the entire pie didn't hit the floor.

Our server was very apologetic. They ended up deducting the entire pizza, nearly $27, from the bill.

Of course we had plans for the leftovers -- with Mrs. Dr. Phil's night grad classes on Tuesday and Thursday, we'd each have a solid, satisfying dinner. Alas, with only five surviving pieces, we each had one tonight and then we'll have one each on Tuesday.

I've vowed to avenge the sad loss of The Three, by stopping at Joe's Chicago Pizza on the way home Thursday and buying a whole small stuffed pizza to refill the week's menu. So far, Mrs. Dr. Phil isn't convinced. (grin) / (sigh)


The slices we had tonight were, of course, wonderful. (weeps)

Dr. Phil
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