Because I want you to know I haven't died

The sad, sad truth is that I haven't been to the grocery store in two weeks. I'm not quite sure how I'm healthfully sustaining a fetus, since all that's in my fridge are a pitcher of limeade, some desiccated ears of corn, and some expired yogurt. Smooth Melon has managed to keep fresh fruit in the fruit bowl, and Luna bars have decent vitamin content, and the cafeteria at work has a fine salad bar, so somehow, we're still thriving. Mostly, I can't drag my swollen ankles into the grocery store any more than I can fit sideways through a narrow row of restaurant tables, so we're living on takeout, cold cereal, prenatal vitamins, and water.

The nesting urge far overpowers the eating urge. Cooking dinner? Why, no! Let us paint the kitchen instead! Plus, I had the stomach flu (stomach flu! while pregnant! Oh, cruel universe! My abdomen was already a little busy, thanks!) for a week, which totally stole my appetite. People reassure me that the baby takes whatever she needs, and leaves me with the rest, which probably explains why I've been tired, and grumpy, and feeling like I've been leeched .

Actually, I have to credit my dear dinner club for my nutritional survival this past week. Veelicious and Slim Jim hosted last weekend, and very kindly set a theme of "Salads of Summer" to spare us all the heat of our ranges. It's been hot around here. The most gorgeous Lentil-Feta salad from the hosts, a toothsome wild rice creation from Chez Scoop & Cheesy T, my two curried offerings (chicken in one, artichokes in the other - the leftovers held us over for a couple of days), a smashing roasted beet-super fresh ricotta-fried basil delight from M, and Hungry T's juicy, mega-fresh Belgian Endive-Apple-Fennel presentation ... we were all set. And full. And the others consumed 9 bottles of wine between them. And the most fantastic summer pudding of challah and berries with fresh cream (two helpings for me,thanks). And the patio was lit with candles, and we pulled out the medical dictionary again ("queef" has no technical definition, FYI), and there were some vomit-flavored jelly beans snuck in as the hour grew late ... oh yes, it was your usual EP night. And I was hungry, and I ate, and all was right in the world.

And then, Tuesday, Cheesy T put on a hot little polka dot party dress, and had us all out for Tex-Mex and pinata smashing for her 33rd birthday. Aw yeah. I was full-up on chips and salsa for hours (and the most delicious blueberry-nectarine crisp and cinnamon ice cream, made by Scoop. Ohhhhh ...)!

Thank you, EP, for the sustenance! My body and soul and kid are ever grateful.