True story: I live in a good-pizza desert. There is not one decent pizza place anywhere in Los Angeles. Not a one. And I grew up on the east coast, with a NY-er dad, so this is a problem. Ergo, when I visit home? I pack myself an entire pizza. Every time.
So what I’m saying is: I feel this woman who recently shared that she had a whole LOT of pancake mix she was flying back up to Canada, where there are no Trader Joe’s.
And people chimed in with tales of their own.