Success in the Kitchen OR Miracles Still Happen

I made pizza for dinner. As in I made dough from scratch and used tomatoes from my garden like a functional little homemaker (snort). AND... it turned out looking just like the picture in the cookbook (which I realize just raises my bar and now my family will start expecting more, but just let my pat myself on the back for a minute, will ya?)

So let me start at the beginning. Specifically, 2 hours before we sat down to eat, no lie. As if I didn't need more of a reason why I don't get my jollies from cooking, the fact that it takes 2 hours of me on my feet to get a home cooked meal on the table kinda chaps my hide. Of course, it didn't help that half an hour of that was devoted to cleaning up the remains of breakfast that was strewn all over my kitchen, but let's just keep that between us, shall we? Once I got down to it (the counter top, that is), it really wasn't that hard to whip up a home-grown, completely from scratch, tomato basil pizza. The boys got a lesson in how "back in MY day" we tossed our pizza to shape it (which left them clamoring for a pizza tossing lesson), and to tell you the truth, I don't really remember sprinkling cornmeal on the pan "in my day." I think I must have picked that up from CSI:NY. Turns out it adds a nice touch to the authenticity of the hand-tossed crust. (What do I know? I'm just making stuff up.)

So. At the end of the day, I may have buggered a custom pendant with the last microscope slide I had and my new ones haven't shown up, I may have hid in the house all day afraid that it was cold outside and missed the glorious weather, but By Golly, I can cook me up a smoking pizza with out even smoking up the house.