Due to a myriad of Life factors, I woke up yesterday ready to finally finish up school for the semester. One of my final assignments for a social work class was to meet with my partner from the semester and video us terminating our working relationship. Well, I was prepared to do that early in the week, but my poor partner got struck with illness and all manner of life chaos, so we ended up meeting the day our assignment was due.
Other than me experiencing the discomfort of perceived procrastination, everything went fine, I just spent my early morning hours tending to that assignment, finishing up course evals, and uploading final assignment components. I finished it all by 10:30 AM, and then the real fun began.
By fun, I mean work.
As my social work class partner and I had originally scheduled to meet by Saturday at the latest, I told my son that I would happily make and bake stuffed crust pizza for him and his friends Sunday afternoon.
Now here's the thing, I don't know how it happens, but when I bake things, especially pizza, children manifest out of the woodwork!
As this has happened multiple times, I planned to make a TON of pizza, the equivalent to 18 large pizzas. My gut instinct was proven right because I ended up feeding at least ten heathens. It all kinda blurred together so I am not actually sure just how many kids I fed pizza too.
So, as soon as I was done with school, I got in the kitchen and started a double batch of homemade pizza sauce. My mood is always a bit excited when the kids all wander in. And the smell of garlic sizzling in oil as I concocted the sauce made me feel a bit nostalgic. Most of the kids are young adults now, off in college or trade school, or just working in general, so I don't see them as much anymore.
Honestly, I don't mind that too much, life is about change, and this Kat is a bit on the tired side these days. Pizza parties for a dozen kiddos is a lot of work! Glorious work!
So, as soon as I got the sauce done, I whipped up a batch of sourdough crust for the hubs and I and set it in the fridge to ferment for a few hours. And by that that time it was time to make the mother load of dough.
After working at the bakery all summer, the quadruple batch of pizza dough that I make for parties doesn't seem at all monstrous in size and scope, but it's still a healthy amount of potential pizza.
While the dough was rising, I chatted with my daughter and her boyfriend. She arrived early because she needed to print something for one of her college class assignments (It's in the air!).
After a restorative cup of tea and some delightfully diverting conversation, I began assembling stuffed crust pizzas. For my stuffed crust pizza I cut mozzarella sticks in half length-wise and stuff them into the crust after I stretch it out to fit the pan. I then add the sauce, cheese, and toppings, bake the pizza, and then brush the crust with homemade garlic butter right when it comes out. I swear the sizzling of that butter calls to the kids, as soon as I pulled the first pizza out of the oven, a herd of them burst through the door.
The next several hours were a blur of pizza composition, baking, and youth cackling and conversating. It was pretty great.
And, as it was a fete at my house, the most random and unexpected occurred.
One of the kids, a youth I affectionately refer to as Sorcerer Supreme because we play D&D with him, had long, flowing curly locks. I say had, because somewhere along the way it was decided that he needed a haircut. So hair was cut.
Then, my nephew, who arrived to the fray later, decided his hair could use a trim too, so my daughter cut both the guy's locks off and I found myself sweeping up enough hair to make a very respectable clown wig after I put away the pizza-making accoutrement.
The hubs and I excused ourselves somewhere in the middle of the haircutting, by that point I was more than a bit of a zombie, and as it was almost seven pm and I hadn't ate anything since 9am due to a solid stream of working, I grabbed a couple slices of sourdough pizza that I had cooked in my cast iron skillet and escaped with the hubs to our boudoir to watch some British murder mystery tv.
As I sat eating my very late Sunday lunch, my movie soundtrack was accompanied by the sounds of very delighted and amused youths.
Yesterday was a most pleasant day.
And as most of the time, all of the images in this post were taken on the author's slightly spackled in pizza sauce iPhone.