"Cinderella, dressed in yella, went up stairs to kiss a fella. Made a mistake and kissed a snake! How many doctors did it take?"
It all started two months ago. I was picking the kids up from school on an icy February afternoon. The kind of day when the wind whips in biting gusts between the buildings and razor-sharp bits of snow sting your face. I can't even call them "snowflakes" because "knives" are a much more accurate description. I wrapped my scarf around my chin as I walked the block and a half from where I'd parked the car to their schoolhouse. I was eager to get home, turn on the stove and start a pot of mushroom risotto for dinner. As we drove home, she told me that she wanted to have her birthday party at a certain pizza place. You, no doubt, know the one - singing robots, silly music, flashing lights & the electronic hum of enough arcade games to make you half crazy, and mediocre pizza at best. I think every town must have one and there's nothing wrong with this restaurant, once or twice in a blue moon. But we've celebrated more than our fair share of birthdays there. And in any case, I had other plans in mind.