half olives, mushrooms and anchovies-plus show me the colonial with the fireplace on Mayberry Lane please

Fair lady planned a night out for dinner and festivities with some dear old friends from college tonight.

I am quite helpful around the home regarding laundry, cleaning, grocery shopping and repairs, but a chef’s hat just did not come with my DNA. So, in as much as lady’s parting words were ‘save us some money and cook something’, by the time she had her left turn signal on at the corner I was speaking to a woman named Nina who knows just how to make the eggplant parmigiana, spaghetti and golden warmed garlic bread that I regularly enjoy.

Usually I pick it up, saving the tip I guess. A recently installed basketball hoop out back, good shows on TV and clowning around with a nine year old for a few hours changed that decision though.

Thirty minutes later and squarely interrupting our Pokémon session, the door bell rang. Ah yes-the pizza man of course.

Wearing a Yankee hat, as standard apparel, putting forth a confident strut and being all of 21 he strode up my steps to deliver our dinner. Glad for the intermission, I furnished him a nice tip and informed my hyper partner that it was time for a break.

I presumed the delivery man’s surname was of similar Irish heritage to me as he closely resembled an old mate of mine whose favorite holiday is St Paddy’s Day. But I didn’t figure that as I would pull out the entrée, pasta, marinara sauce and trimmings from the take-out package that his picture would be displayed for me again.

Yet there it was...on his magnetic business card…as a local Realtor.

Where business matters are concerned I’m not a big fan of the ‘get out of my way’ and let us do whatever we want to do mentality, but I certainly do admire entrepreneurial thinking and new approaches.

So cheers to you, young Mr. Pizza Realtor man…cheers to you.

© 2012 Christopher’s Views