Seems like only yesterday when I was waxing poetic on my disdain for Rachel Ray and the corn, oh the corn with the creamy pasta….
Oh, that was summer?
So indeed you’re right.
But here’s the thing. It’s hard to think about food when you’re suckin down ginger chews and praying (please, oh please) do not let me throw up all over these nice people in my meeting at work. They don’t know yet. I need to be professional. Get it together, girl! in through the nose, out through the mouth. OK. Now, what were we talking about?
Then to trying every pressure point on my body, to wearing “seabands”, which seriously are nothing more than a sweatband with a plastic ball (no joke) that’s supposed to alleviate nausea (which, by the way, looked great with my work clothes- “Hey, Robin, what’s with the sweatbands? A little pre-work basketball?”) and sleeping- I don’t think I made it past 8:30 most nights, well, let’s just say that food was not at the top of my list.
So now, here I am, 21 weeks into this third pregnancy and I’m feeling much better, thank you. I’m reading cookbooks again. I’m planning menus. I’m even making things that smell fishy. It’s fantastic.
And along the way were fabulous people who kept asking me what’s happening with 17 Bites, who were telling me that they are missing the recipes and anxiously waiting for the next one. Thanks for that. I’ve got a list of new ones to get started with in this new year.
Thanks for waiting.
Happy New Year, everyone. I’m looking forward to one filled with life, love and many, many boys. (Oh, did I mention the third is a boy?)