And I don't cook, either. Not as long as they still deliver pizza.

~ Tiger Woods

Monday night is pizza night. It's not that I don't want to cook, I'd be happy to, but how can I pass up a large pizza for $5.00, or if I want to get fancy, $6.50? The bigger question is "How am I going to work this into my diet?". Fortunately I made a huge pot of vegetable soup last night and my calorie intake for today had been relatively low so I figured a couple pieces were certainly doable. We got the pizza and for the first time in I don't know how long, there was actually some left over. I'm forced to admit that I could have easily eaten two more pieces, but that would mean walking on the treadmill twice as long.

Right after dinner I "talked" (via Facebook) with my son, Eric. He and Silvia are leaving Sardinia for Rome on Friday evening. Talking with him about Rome, along with reading "eat, love, pray" made me think about how much I loved being there and how lucky I am to have been there twice. I had to laugh when I thought about what we consider pizza, and what the Italians call pizza. There is no doubt true Italian pizza is far more delicious, not to mention far more healthy, some don't even have cheese as a topping. The same goes for ice cream. As much as I love Graeter's, nothing compares to the gelato sold everywhere you turn, my favorite was a little shop close to the Trevi Fountain.

Enough talk about pizza and ice cream. Encouraged by my children, I climbed those steps once again to the treadmill. I'd like to think that they have my best interests at heart, but I think they are secretly trying to find as many ways as they can to keep me healthy so they don't have to take care of me in my old age...and that's okay with me.