Two Boots

I've been missing real pizza something awful. I mean, I gave up on finding real bagels, but Friday Night Pizza is a hard habit to break. One of my favorite pizza places in New York is Two Boots in Rock. Center. Cornmeal crust, spicy toppings, homemade sauce...yummy deliciousness. These days when I think of two boots (and I think of it often), I'm thinking less about the pizza I once knew and more about the rubber golashes I have to replace. For the past week or so, I've been trying to get Marco to get used to the idea of wearing a NEW pair of yellow boots. The old ones have had it. Not only have they been passed down from brother to brother, Marco wouldn't let 'em rest this summer. Yes, summer. Yes, the hottest summer...ever. He wore 'em everyday...to every function, formal or casual. God bless the soul who mistakenly catches a whiff. There's not enough Gold Bond Medicated foot powder in Charlotte. See Max above when the boots were new. And Marco below...not so much with the newness. Aren't you glad it's not scratch and sniff?