Today I woke up and decided to make my mom’s recipe for pizza for dinner.

One has to make dough first and it’s not like any pizza anyone else in the world ever probably eats, unless someone out there still has the 4th Ward Relief Society’s Cookbook they complied as a fundraiser in the mid-1980s – straight from the days when Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom Soup was a pantry staple.
As I pulled the cookie sheet out of the drawer to prep it for the dough I realized mom probably made it on a cookie sheet because she did not have a pizza pan. (Guess we ate so much Organ Stop Pizza there was never a need.)
Oh, yeah. And tomorrow is Mother’s Day.

Between that date on the calendar and a slight case of the monthly blues, NOW I know why I am mixing up and rolling out…
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