Last night was pizza night! Do you know what that means in my ex-pat world? It means we eat in the living room (!). The first night we did this was a few years ago. Hubby was out at an office dinner and I thought, as the rain pounded on the skylight and I was left home with my four little sweethearts, "I wish we had Pizza Hut". I know... Pizza Hut is nothing more than an Italian Mc Donalds... but absence makes the heart grow fonder and Pizza Hut loomed.
It occurred to me that there is one restaurant in this town that makes take-out pizza. It's true that we need five to feed us and that the bill comes to sixty dollars (it isn't really Pizza Hut after all), but I decided to take the plunge. We ordered and then picked them up (no delivery to crown the event truly American, but we deal).
I cannot fully describe the feeling of running out in the rain with all those pizzas piled high. Liberating is the word that comes to mind. We stretched out a tablecloth in the living room and sat on the floor, unheard of in these parts. We poured Coke, and turned on War Games. Remember that? It's still a family favorite!
And then I sit contentedly, observing my little half-European-offspring-turned-American, on a rainy night and enjoy the moment. Ah.