No sandwich report today, sorry. Just didn't happen. I had to eat some leftover potstickers so that I could quit yelling at the dog for farting every time the refrigerator opened. Yes, I realize there are two questionable premises within that sentence; number one, what kind of idiot thinks it's going to help to yell at a dog to stop farting and, number two, who would eat something that smells that bad. I can't account for myself on the first question, but I can tell you that Husband and I have long marveled at how something that smells so bad in the fridge can taste so good on the plate. Call it the mystery of the potsticker. Or blame the cabbage in the filling.
At any rate, there is much bigger news to discuss. That would be that today marks seventeen weeks of pregnancy down, only...uh..23 to go. Yeeeeaaaaaaayy. I am beginning to think that the point of pregnancy, if not life in general, is learning to adjust expectations. I am only just now beginning to realize what a haul this is going to be. In my mind this whole thing was going to be done, I don't know, two weeks from now.
However the good news is that the "baby brain" effect sometimes causes me to lose all sense of time and/or reality, so maybe it will pass by quickly. Like today, for instance, I had to sit down and THINK about WHETHER OR NOT CHRISTMAS ALREADY HAPPENED. Yeah. Only the single biggest holiday of the year which involves about four changes of venue for me to celebrate completely. Seriously, losing it.
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