My dad and I have always shared an intense love of pizza as a staple meal. Any time we had a chance to eat it we relished it.
The school in Utah we were enrolled in had a pizza day for lunch every single Monday. It was my favorite day of the week. It was also my least favorite day- since my mom was enrolled in school as well and that was the night she attended her classes.
To make sure we remained in high spirits, Kevin dubbed Monday nights, "Pizza Nights." To my delight, us kids decided amongst ourselves to hide the fact that we were over inundated with pizza at the beginning of the week.
This gambit worked for several years--until we moved to Montana. But then the adventure altered, and my dad began experimenting with homemade pizza. It was always a treat- and sometimes not so tasty- to mess up the kitchen on those days.
I still love pizza-despite having it twice a day every week for six years.