pizza and time

The wind cavorted with such power and speed that any loose item left outside was surely lifted and carried elsewhere. Not that I would notice. The day was chock full of work, then Gino eating and finally the kind of karaoke that feels good only after a long week of too little play.


On the way to my evening of small group socializing (last week I partied with one set, this week it’s the other’s turn) I came across a pizza eating contest. UW students, downing pizza at record speed.





I thought how my family considers me to be a speed eater, but even so, I would probably gag and come in last at a pizza eating contest. You can’t do things you love well if someone points a gun at you and demands perfection.

Which is why blogging should never happen three minutes before the clock strikes midnight. And when it does, you feel so sincerely sorry that you haven’t the energy to do better. But there you have it: press "publish" just seconds before the clock says you’re out of time and you are officially into the next day.

Each day has only twenty-four hours. You cannot change that, no matter how much you may wish it weren't so.