I’m flying home to Chicago tonight for a long weekend that involves, among other things, appointments at the doctor (not for me), a bridal shower (not for me), and a pedicure (for me). I haven’t been home since Christmas, haven’t seen any of my family since those first few days of the new year, and seven months is a really long time for This Girl to go without that. I don’t particularly care for it, to be honest, though now that I think about it, hey, family, why don’t you get your asses on a plane and come to DC? Let me show you my ‘hood, and my life out here. At the very least we can sit on the roofdeck and eat food while gazing at the Washington Monument in the distance.
I’m hoping that on this trip home I can at least get one eating of good pizza under my belt. DC is a crap town for deep dish pizza. The city has some places producing good New York-style pizza, and some good wood-fired pizza, but they have absolutely no good deep dish, something I will lament every day I live here. On the other hand, though, if I lived in Chicago I would probably weigh about 472 pounds because I would be surrounded by a plethora of pie possibilities, and if you think I’m simply being dramatic and couldn’t really eat deep dish pizza seven days a week then you really don’t know me at all.