Back in the day, I did really exciting things on Saturday nights. Since high school, I always had to be out and about at the current place to be. It wasn’t just going out, either — it was also getting ready to go out. It took hours to do makeup and hair and to figure out exactly the right outfit to wear. (I suspect I used up my lifetime allotment of hours spent giving a shit about this stuff, which is why I don’t bother with it much now.)
Now, I couldn’t really give a shit about Saturday night. Don’t worry — it’s not just because I have a kid. I gave up on caring about Saturday night years ago, when I realized I was just as happy sitting on the couch watching Forensic Files (don’t worry — I’m not quite that lame any more) as I was going to a club (ugh) or bar. Honestly, I think that’s part of why I decided I wanted to have a kid. I was tired of going to bars. I know that sounds kind of, I don’t know, flippant? But that’s kind of how it was. Maybe for people who aren’t born wanting to have kids, eventually, they run out of other things to do and they get tired of going to bars and then say what the hell let’s have a kid. I know a few other people who have admitted that it happens this way. I suspect these people, more often than not, turn out to be relatively content parents because they’re going into it with few expectations, but that’s a story for another day.
Our Saturdays now are unexciting and domestic. I usually pretend to be asleep while Ben gets up and makes coffee, feeds the animals, and gets Soren changed and eating breakfast. Don’t worry — it gets much more exciting (I lie). Eventually, we roll out to do the grocery shopping (Super Target, King Soopers, beer store). We get home and have lunch and/or naps and then clean the house (I dust, Ben vacuums, and we take turns cleaning the bathroom). Saturdays are usually dedicated to doing all the shit we have to do. (The odd result is that Sunday, a day I’ve spent most of my life dreading, is now kind of my favorite because we don’t have work to do and usually spend most of the day doing fun stuff.)
The fun part of Saturday is that it’s almost always officially Pizza Nite (sorry for the unnecessary capital letters and cutesy spelling of “night” — I kind of have to) (“officially” means that more often than not, we also have pizza on other days). On almost every Saturday evening, we order pizza or, less often, Ben makes pizza. (On rare occasions, I can convince Ben to order Thai food, which I could eat every day but Ben finds the lack of cheese troubling.) Ben makes really good pizza. I keep bugging him to write down his recipe or at least dictate it to me like I’m some kind of 50s secretary so I can share it with you guys.
Our current favorite pizza in the world is pizza with fresh jalapenos, green chiles, and green peppers. We discovered this combination almost by accident one day at Woody’s Wood-Fired Pizza in Golden. I wanted to get the pizza with herbed olive oil, sun-dried tomatoes, artichoke hearts, fresh spinach, roasted garlic, and feta and mozzarella cheeses. Ben, however, is a pizza republican and won’t consent to anything that doesn’t have red sauce. So we settled on all the pepper-type ingredients, and it turned out to be the best combination of pizza ingredients we’ve ever had, seriously. Even in Colorado, most pizza places don’t have green chiles as an ingredient option, which is tragic. And fresh jalapenos aren’t always an option, either.
And so it came to be that Ben made pizza tonight and it was really good. That’s probably the most exciting thing we did all day. And that’s cool.