I'm starving. For some reason I gave my personal chef the month off. Last night I ate ice cream and chips and salsa (in that order) for dinner. (Don't freak out--the fetus got plenty of healthy food all day long, I swear, and anyway, that's what the vitamins are for!!!) Eating has seriously gotten old. No, I take it back, eating is as great as ever, preparing/cooking/even just conjuring up ideas of what to eat, that's what's old. I'm getting tired of eating grilled cheeses and spaghettti and egg sandwiches (that's two separate things: spaghetti AND egg sandwiches, not "spaghetti and egg sandwiches"--I'm not in the craving gross combo stage yet) but I can't come up with anything else to eat. The days of diverse chowing are long gone and no matter how hard I try, I can't remember what was on the plate in those days. All I've wanted all week is pasta. I found this new pasta the last time I was at Whole Foods that is shaped kind of like a snail. I love fun-shaped pastas. This one scored pretty high on the fun scale, but I think I prefer regular old shells (not quite as high on the fun scale due to being commonplace). Shells are good because they hold pasta sauce in their little caverns. These snails were a bit too large to have caverns. I read somewhere that people usually stuff them--but they seem too small for that. So there you have it--too big for caverns, too small for stuffing, and therefore, useless, except to fill the bottomless pit.
"The Book" appropriately enough talks about carbs under the nutrition section for this week. I suppose week 11 is synonomous with pasta for pregnant women everywhere. Or maybe it's a coincidence....In other news (as if there is anything more important than food), the fetus is now the size of a lime. Hmmm...I guess "limes" aren't really other news, huh? We're still talking food here. Though when I think lime, I think Coronoa. Or margerita. Or some other delicious beverage that I won't be squeezing a lime into for a long time to come. Fortunately, aside from the nostalgia, I don't actually miss alcohol. I'm not craving a beer or my most favoritist drink: the dirty gin martini. For a while my stomach was too upset to fathom throwing alcohol on top. Although I'm not feeling sick anymore, I still don't miss it. One exception: sometimes, when Eric has had a few more than 3 he gets all lovey dovey on me, and then I wish I were a bit buzzed too so that I could tolerate his adoration. Sober Terri at 11:00 p.m. on a Friday in the midst of a slightly tipsy hubby is tired and cranky (what I mean is "bit**y) and overall not nice. Me being not nice when he is being super nice always makes me feel super guilty and then the guilt (which I hate feeling) makes me even crankier and meaner. It's a vicious cycle. In the meantime, I've become addicted to carbonated beverages like Kombucha (which is a bit too pricey to drink with any regularity) and sparkling waters (pricier than that stuff from the tap, but much less pricey than a 6 pack of Coronas). Oh, but I only like sparkling waters with lime. I mean, the lemon is better than just plain (plain is unacceptable) but I really only want lime. Maybe I should buy plain and buy a lime and squeeze it in there, just for old times sake. (Diversion: what is the correct punction of "old times sake"? Should time be possessive, i.e. "old time's sake"?)
Alright, I need to feed the fetus. My personal chef (aka hubby) comes home next week--wahooo!!!!! In the meantime, pasta snails anyone??