SEX Pizza

THE pizza place in Darien when I was growing up was Post Corner Pizza. It's still there on the corner of the Post Road and Mansfield Avenue across from the downtown firehouse. Back then they didn't deliver, but you could call in a take out order. From time to time we'd order a couple of pizzas for dinner, and Dad and one of us boys would go pick them up. One evening we ordered a pizza with sausage and extra cheese. When we arrived to get it, the box was marked SEX. Sausage Extra Cheese.

It became a family joke for years. I haven't thought about it in years. But this evening on the way back from the Container Store in White Plains, Rachel and I were trying to decide where to have dinner. We seemed to vaguely closing in on pizza at the little place across the street from my apartment, and I happened to think about Post Corner. It was on the way home, I hadn't eaten there in quite a while, and it looks like it will be quite a while before I have the chance to again. I drove by, and it wasn't that busy, so we stopped for dinner.

We did not order a SEX pizza. We had a medium tossed salad with mozzarella cheese and a medium pizza with mushrooms, sausage, and olives. We should have ordered the small size of each. I'd forgotten how large the mediums actually are, and neither of us eat as much as we used to. But it was nice to visit a memory.

After dinner it was back to the apartment with the dozen boxes and other packing supplies that were the reason for the trip to the Container Store. (Got that, Scott? A dozen boxes for a dozen days.) I packed up some of my Depression Glass and more books.

Hey, I had to work off the pizza somehow.