I met Grandma yesterday afternoon in the park by her house. A guy was talking to her, even though she was looking the other way. He introduced himself as Marty, I said hello, and then he left. ”I’m always talking with your grandmother. She’s a nice lady.” Grandma smiled somewhat tensely at the compliment, Marty left, and I sat down.
Grandma: “That guy is crazy. Harmless, but crazy.”
We sat for a bit, and Grandma said she was hungry. I told her I’d be up for a bite, but somewhere other than Little Poland.
Grandma: “No Little Poland?”
Me: “No Grandma. Please.”
Grandma: “Well, let’s go to the place under my building. They have those yellow triangles and the coffee is pretty good.”
Me: “Yellow triangles?”
Grandma: “Yes, come on, you know what I mean. It’s yellow and a triangle and has bread and sometimes vegetables.”
Me: “Do you mean pizza?”
Grandma: “That’s it! I always thought it was a strange name - pizza. Let’s go.”
Grandma got up from the bench and made her way to the pizza shop near her apartment building. I think she was more interested in drinking some coffee, and she was lucky because they were brewing a new pot as we arrived.
I ordered a plain slice for Grandma and got a plain sicilian slice for myself. When the coffee was ready, I made it with sweet-n-low and milk, just like Grandma likes it. I had a cherry coke and sat down with her. They brought the pizza out, and Grandma looked at my pizza with caution.
Grandma: “What’s that?”
Me: “It’s a sicilian slice.”
Grandma: “Why isn’t it a triangle?”
Me: “I don’t know. The sicilian is a square and the dough is thicker.”
Grandma: “I’ve never seen anything like that.” She looked up towards the counter. ”What other shapes do they have?”