The drop zone
When Mike and I order calzones from D.P. Dough, I always get the Loading Zone, and he prefers the Drop Zone. Mine has breaded chicken with onions and green peppers and lots of mozzarella cheese – all wrapped in super delicious, chewy pizza dough. Mike’s Drop Zone has breaded chicken, pepperoni, mozzarella, ricotta and parmesan.
Actually, we haven’t ordered D.P. Dough for a long time because I’m doing the Daniel Plan, and I’m not supposed to eat pizza dough or cheese or breading on my chicken. So the only things left would be chicken that is not breaded, onions and green peppers, which is, eh, OK. But crap, I can make that at home, so why would I order it from D.P. Dough, which requires paying money and waiting 45 minutes for delivery and digging around my purse and my car and Elliot’s change bucket to come up with enough for a tip?
But anyway, when we used to order D.P. Dough, it was delicious. It was usually an after-the-kids-went-to-bed ordeal, so Mike and I would cozy up together on the couch and watch a movie or a hockey game, or maybe even talk in between sauce-dipped bites.
On the rare occasion we would get D.P. Dough for dinner with the children, we would do the nightly, obligatory, table-clearing off-routine. This involves moving my purse and lunch bag as well as any keys, phones, school papers, pencils, ponytail holders, books, water bottles and necklaces. On any given day, there could also be an umbrella, a Spider-Man web-slinging glove, a Yoshi racecar, a board game and a daycare finger painting project on the table.
See, our dining room table is our drop zone. We drop all of our random crap there. And, man, does it pile up super quickly.
C.C. still sits in her high chair to eat, so we need only three of the four seats to be clear for mealtime. We move most of the crap over to one end of the table – where a fourth person would sit. And when Mike is working in the evenings, which is often, it’s just me and the kids for dinner. With Daddy not home, we need only two open seats. More room for all of our crap to stay on the table! Great.
When I look at the mess, though, I sometimes begin to think about how C.C. won’t be sitting in the high chair too much longer, and we will actually need that fourth space. We will have to move all the crap away from the dining room table to another location.
We’ll need a new drop zone. Because every house has one. Right? Please tell me every house has a drop zone.
Geez, I hate that darn drop zone, though.
But not the Loading Zone. No, that thing is evil yummy-ness.