By the time Friday night rolls around, my brain is usually as fried as my body after a week of trying to figure out what to cook for the same people at the same time every day. Thus enters #fridaynightpizzanight. Whoever invented it should be given a Nobel Prize. Or at least a “noble prize” from the “Guild of all Tired and Brain-Fried Mamas Everywhere” – if such a guild existed. And I’m saying it should.
For the longest time, I would buy frozen pizzas that usually looked so much better in the grocery freezer section than they ended up tasting on our blue flower Corelle Ware. So, I started making my own pizza – dough and all. And our world has never been the same. It’s better than what I would buy at the store and it isn’t hard. Y’all, it really isn’t hard and really doesn’t take as long as you may think. I don’t do hard and I don’t do tedious. So, if I can make my people pizza (as in make pizza for my people), you can too.
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