deb roush

I got the best compliment the other day from my one of the smartest, most introspective people I know — Kandace. She was telling us that she and some friends had recently had a conversation about the type of pizza they would be – if they were a pizza. She cited the anchovy pizza who could be a little offensive sometimes. There are the plain cheese pizzas – they don’t bring a lot of excitement to the party – and the veggie pizzas, who I guess would be the bike riding, tree-hugger types. Without a moment’s hesitation she asserted that I would be an everything pizza – with jalapenos!  I have “a little bit of everything spread around,” she said. And because of the jalapeno, I’m hot. (OK, she didn’t exactly say that, but let’s go with it.) I’ve thought about being an everything pizza several times since Kandace said it. And if there’s any pizza I would want to be, that would be it. I mean, it’s called a supreme for a reason. Still, when you’re an everything, there’s risk involved. When you include olives and onions, for example, some people are just not going to care for it. That’s probably true about me, too. What I need to accept is that’s OK. If you don’t like the toppings, you can always pick them off. Right?