I think sometimes that I may hope for/want/need more from my weekends than I or even they are cut out to deliver. An impromptu trip to see high tide and the best, most absolutely perfect weather day I've encountered in so long, plus a nice little breakfast as per last week, and then work. Something between my 2pm shift and around 8pm cracked a little at the seams and suddenly, my nice, simple, better-than-Ohio-could-ever-offer Saturday didn't seem like quite enough. I wanted the promise of adventure, a little romance, whispered glamor, but as I couldn't think of a single way to ease my familiar ache, I took to a little writing and a little cleaning until we realized that we should probably eat dinner before 11pm.

We ran out into the cold rain for a few ingredients, came back, quickly chopped, browned, and wilted, and exactly fourteen and one half minutes later, we're suddenly presented with this beautiful thing, maybe one of the first beautiful non-virtual things we've created together.

I've been too concerned with this lately, our ratio of virtual creations to non-virtual creations. If what I want so much is to build creative things together, on a late evening with no plans to speak of, a pizza as beautiful as this is an absolute gem of a start.