Craving Raving

Wow, I had my first case of what I think must be pregnancy craving--and it was tangled up in a quagmire of miss-crankipants-tantrumming, so it was a little hard to spot. It was quite embarrassing actually, and thank goodness Scott figured it out in time before I crossed a line. Okay, maybe I did cross a line, but fortunately for our unborn child he’ll forgive me and not leave us for a sweeter woman. Anyway, I won’t incriminate myself with the details of the tantrum part.

After a good 20 minutes of aimless shopping at the grocery store, I suddenly decided I wanted a salad, but only because it would be the perfect vehicle for ****light Italian salad dressing****[fade in light coming from heaven and angels singing music]. I spent a good six minutes (possibly more because Scott, who was actually working to provide for us, had time to go down two and half grocery aisles in the time it took me) picking out the perfect one. I went with Newman’s Own. This stuff isn’t bad, but it’s not nearly as nice as the stuff I make myself with fancy vinegar and gourmet mustard and fresh garlic, etc, but no, that crap wouldn’t do! I was like a robot or a zombie or someone possessed. I didn’t even realize how crazy I was acting until a mile walk from the store. Once I figured out what a troll I had been, I apologized profusely.

Wow, those hormones are some powerful stuff! I’ve had about five salads drenched in the weak Ital-lite in the last three days. I think there is only one serving left in the bottle. I’m not sure I’m over it.

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