So Bryan is taking me out tonight, a sort-of farewell dinner and a pre-Mother’s Day dinner.  It’s weird that Mother’s Day now applies to me.  That’s very, very odd.  Because even if you’re a stepmother, you’re not a mother.  It’s just not the same.  But now I have something living inside of me. (Admittedly, it kinda creeps me out.)

Anyway, back to stuff that doesn’t give me goosebumps: dinner.  I have NO idea where to go.  My stomach is just so finicky that I only know a few places are guaranteed to please.  Surin is a safe bet.  PoBoy’s is a safe bet.  But we eat there ALL THE TIME.  Shouldn’t this be special?

(Sidenote: has anyone seen commericals for the new scary flick, Bug?  OHMYGOD, looks amazing.  Has Ashley Judd in it [whom I've been compared to.. he must've been drunk], and it’s about bugs that live inside of you.  Yes, I’m still thinking about that.)

Ask me what I’m hungry for.  I’m going to tell you a tuna melt from Brewbaker’s or fruity chicken salad on a croissant from Clementine’s.  Because THAT’S ALL I EVER WANT.  And those places don’t do dinner.

If there’s one thing about this whole baby-makin’ thing that I could do without, it’s definitely the way it has shaken my appetite.  I used to love food.  Remember those days?  When I would write entire posts about what we had for dinner?  Now, I can’t even put the food away after we’ve eaten, because the sight of what I just digested makes me ill.  I cooked the other night, and while I usually LOVE my own cooking, watching all of the ingredients combine made me sick.  I had to force myself to eat it.  I HAD TO FORCE MYSELF TO EAT FOOD.  It was worth repeating.

So Bryan’s taking me out tonight.  It may very well end up being Chick Fil A followed by Brusters, but we’re going out.  It’s Mother’s Day, damnit.