On Sunday we had friends and family over for our biggest pizza party yet.
It took us awhile to sort out the complex family relations, but we got that done. The family and friends – some of whom we had not met and so did not yet know were friends – were folks we do not get to see often enough.
The pizzas were some of the prettiest we’ve seen. My favorite was made by a six-year-old. I’m hoping she grows up to be a bread baker, a pizza maker, a chef.
My favorite comment was (and I’m paraphrasing hugely here): Once we had an outdoor dinner in France. There were sawhorse tables filled with cheeses and wines and food. I never thought I would have that experience again. And now I have.
Another salute to the magic of fire.
Waiting for Thoreau 
Having everyone together there was really wonderful, but the pizza would have made for an excellent party even if I was there all alone. Hat’s off to you and John, and your enormous oven. Everyone agreed it was the best pizza that they had ever had. I ate so much I couldn’t eat again for about 18 hours.