Saturday night (Kentucky vs. UCONN), I told the husband, that if UCONN won and played Monday in the final, that we should order pizza for the game. There was no hesitation in his reply “Okay!”

We are frequent pier at Pagliacci, but haven’t ordered in quite a while due to my avoidance of breads and grains. I told the husband to order whatever he wanted since I’d only lightly indulge, and probably would fill up on salad. He obeyed and got one of our standard orders: Pagliaccio Salad; a small CB-Pine; a small South Philly.

I read in a book recently that the average American eats 48 slices of pizza a year. Huh, I thought, when I read that sentence. That seems really low to me. Because for years at the firm I would grab a slice if I needed a quick lunch. Nasty, unsatisfying, greasy, dough-crusted pizza. Since I’ve cut that and most grains out of my diet, it’s so funny how much more you can appreciate the good things in life. I truly enjoy the one slice of toast I allow myself in the mornings (and if you haven’t already tried some, I strongly recomend splurging for a loaf, any loaf, of Dave’s Killer Bread).

So, where was I going with this? Oh yeah. For weeks now there has been not an iota of bad crappy pizza to distort my palate. That one slice of South Philly was the best-freaking-pizza I’ve tasted that I can remember. I ate it way too fast then had a stomach ache.

An ache which could only be healed by my favorite college basketball team winning the NCAA championship title. Seriously. I was miraculously healed somewhere near the end of the fourth quarter.

Hooray!