All I Care About is Meatballs

My posts have been very strange lately, haven’t they? Welcome to the ramblings of the fat-belly-brain!

For all of January and half of February, I was so sick after 5:00 and had no energy at any other time during the day, that I had zero desire to blog. Zero. I would much rather have laid in my bed, nibbling graham crackers, drinking heinous amounts of water, and trying not to think about the toilet.

Now that I feel like blogging about my happy little life again, it turns out that the happiest and most exciting thing in my life is Swedish meatballs!!

You may view this meatball obsession with pity or disdain, but trust me, you should be cheering for me!

I think I’m hung up on the meatballs for three reasons. First of all, they were literally the only meal that I have enjoyed in the past two months. Up until the meatball moment, I was just happy to keep something down, let alone enjoy it. Second, I wanted my best-friend-meatballs last night, but Husband said NO! He said NO to his beautiful, fetus-carrying wife!! (That's me.)  (I am still mad about this. Even worse, I have projected my anger onto the church event that I have to attend tonight, instead of eating Swedish gold! My life is falling apart as we speak!) Third, the meatballs are in freaking Ikea. It is like the Disneyland of home décor, much as Forever 21 is the Disneyland of clothing, and like Disneyland is the Disneyland of life.

(I just realized that Husband hates all three of my Disneylands! Where did I find this handsomely Grinchy mate and how did he trick me into loving him and mothering his child?!)

I will leave you with a picture of the coolest soda machine on the planet. It made me more excited than the iPhone! (I was going to list other impressive technological gadgets, but I couldn’t think of anymore).

Husband and I seriously stared at the machine and giggled together.  That's how great it was.

Then, I got water, which was very anticlimactic.

Husband recommends the Peach Fanta.