Personally perfect pizzas

Start with personal pizza crusts.

Spread the sauce. Add meat, cheese and (in my case only) mushrooms to suit your particular taste.

Bake at 400 degrees until the cheese is bubbly. You now have Mixon-style, personal pizzas and a little Friday night fun.

Sarah was expectedly meticulous. The sauce had to be right up to the edge and evenly smooth. The pepperoni was perfectly, pizzaliciously circled around the crust. The mozzarella was lovingly placed at a nearly shred-by-shred pace.

Within five seconds of setting her on the counter, Aubrey picked up her crust, bit a chunk out of it and proclaimed, “YUM!” I showed her we were making pizza, and she proceeded to chunk handfuls of meat onto the crust and repeat, “Pizza!” with each addition. The counter and her leg looked like they were bleeding pizza sauce.

They each had a cooking style distinctly their own. Neither of them cared much about actually eating their pizza, but that’s okay. We had fun. I wouldn’t have either of my girls – or their perfectly personal pizzas – any other way.


About Rebecca Mixon

If you attend my funeral, please wear red. Make sure my loved ones do not bury me in shoes, and make sure they don't let the undertaker make me look ridiculous. I want beautiful music and lots of storytelling. All that will be great once I'm gone from this Earth. But, while I'm here, give me my flowers while I live. It has come to my attention lately that we don't "give people their flowers" until it's too late for them to enjoy the beauty, the colors, the sentiment. I'm changing that. The people in my life will know how they are appreciated and loved, and they will smell the aroma of their flowers as often as I get the chance to tell them. This blog is about the blessings in my life. Mainly, it's about the people who keep my world spinning on a good axis and help me realize that work, bills and stress mean nothing. Family counts. The rest is just gravy.
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