I'm going visiting teaching this morning and needed a babysitter, and my mom just called and said my sister wanted to go running, so she would just run over to my house and tend the kids, then run back. You know, just a quick 8-something mile run on a Thursday morning. Many people would drive over, but not her. She's hardcore.
I, however, am sitting on my fanny blogging about my sister's physical activity. Clearly we have different motivators.
Friday night we had pizza for dinner. Homemade dough, homemade mozzarella, but I'm not going to lie to you . . . we used spaghetti sauce from the jar. Yes, I said spaghetti sauce, not pizza sauce. I don't buy that line extension.
Here we are assembling the dough.
Here are the toppings. Zucchini, spinach, cheese, salami, mushrooms, ham, olives, NO TOMATOES THEY ARE DEADLY YOU GUYS YOU WILL SERIOUSLY DIE PROBABLY.
It looked better after it was cooked, and it tasted great. Yay! Homemade pizza that tastes like pizza, not bread!
Pinga was tagged lo, these many weeks ago by her friend Olivia, so here is some ego stroking and information conveyance.
This is the second cake, Amy's Perfect Chocolate Cake (and it is, believe me, thanks Amy!) with a pastry cream filling. The first cake was carrot cake, which was goo one minute, and overcooked the next, and therefore dry, which I find unacceptable in any cake, and surprising in carrot cake. 
Thanks to Emily for the post heading. Since last Thursday we have all been sick except Captain America and the Hulk. They have hybrid vigor, I guess. Pinga has been to the doctor, and per his instructions has had to suffer the indignity of having things ingress where there should only be egress. She hasn't thrown up since Sunday night, though, so we hope she is finally better. Superman is still throwing up, so he also is going to have to have suppositories. Why do suppositories fix nausea? Can someone with medical knowledge answer this for me?
Superman came into my room on Saturday (when I was home by myself, thanks, VOICE MALE*) to tell me, "Mom, I need to BLLLLLLUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHH!" So now my room--even after three bottles of Nature's Miracle (which is a great product and before now has never failed us, including the time that Superman got bored in his room, took off his poopy diaper, and spread the contents hither and yon all over his walls and carpet)--smells like vomit. Awesome.
So that's all for us. Greenzo out.
*Actually, Voice Male, we're cool, because you are paying for my new kitchen floor.
