pizza

A married couple that I'm friends with here run a private pre-K and elementary school. They're lovely, great people, one Pakistani-American and the other French, and once in a while they host a pizza party at their school. J, the husband, built a full-on brick pizza oven in the backyard and has a yeast culture that he keeps going. They get real semolina flour and make excellent dough in the afternoon, ask people to bring a couple of toppings each (SRB and I were tasked last night to bring Nutella and strawberries for dessert pizza), and then set up an assembly line where people take turns rolling out the dough, assembling their pizzas, and sticking them in the oven. J supervises by hollering at people to get out of the way and upbraiding the crowd for not keeping the pizzas coming fast enough. The result is quite possibly the only good pizza in all of Pakistan, certainly better than any restaurant I've been to or heard of in Islamabad, Lahore, Karachi, or anywhere else.

It's a beautiful day here again today. SRB is sleeping, I was watching Olympic giant slalom until a few minutes ago when I got bored because the live feed was showing the lower competitors. I'm sure it's very exciting for random guy X that he's competing in the Olympics and finishing 36th or 45th or whatever but there's not so much drama as a spectator. Turns out my interest in watching skiing on TV extends to maybe the 10th-best person in the world and not beyond. Good to know.

Once she wakes up I think the plan is to go for a nice long slow run around the diplomatic enclave and perhaps see a Black Panther matinee. Skype with M&D and Linc later.