Perhaps you are clicking around, looking for election hot takes. I'm sorry I haven't got anything for you; I did all my hot-taking on Facebook last Tuesday, and since then I've been watching the reactions. It's not very pretty. Lots of zealous people out there who feel that their obvious passion for righteousness exempts them from the burden of charity.
Also, I'm dead. The curse has come upon me, as the Lady of Shalott cried, only she wasn't in any danger of getting pregnant. I can eat, or I can sleep. Or I can gag. I'm not very interesting company. What I need to do is, I need to walk, but at any given moment it 's not the most appealing option. All this new life is killing me.
I was talking to my eight-year-old son about how he was going to be the middle child when baby comes, and I thought that back when I was pregnant with him, if you'd told me that I would be doing this three more times, I would have laughed with that little edge of hysteria. If you told me when I had my first that I would do this six more times (seven, counting the miscarriage, but I was never sick then), I would have turned my face to the wall and died. Death to self, indeed. I exist to serve this baby, to eat and sleep at its whims, to gag and mumble and assure myself, "I'm okay, I'm okay," so I can stave off the awful day of vomiting as long as possible.
But guess what doesn't bother me these days? Acedia! There's irony for you. Now I have a legitimate reason to not do anything. I don't hate the world, though people wear me out. Now I'm immersed in something bigger than myself (and believe me, soon there won't be many things bigger than I am). I don't feel wanderlust or dissatisfaction, or even the angst of having all my plans for the next year (or the next eighteen years) suddenly change on me. I'm in one of those stages where I can be pretty certain I'm doing God's will, even though there's not much active doing on my part. In my current existence, I'm doing God's will. Good to know.
Speaking of acedia, I'll put up a separate post to hold a drawing for two copies of The Noonday Devil: Acedia, the Unnamed Evil of our Times.
I'm about 6.5 weeks along. The internet tells me that baby is between the size of a lentil and a blueberry. By eight weeks, baby will be the size of a grape. That's a lot of growing, and it takes a lot of protein.
Grams of protein per serving:
Block Cheddar: 7g
Block Swiss: 8g
Whole milk: 8g
Cottage cheese: 12 g
I eat a lot of cottage cheese lately.
I've gone mostly off sugar, because what I don't need right now are empty calories. I don't even want it. I have not snuck the Halloween candy, what's left of it. I turned down donuts. If it's not protein, don't even talk to me. In another age, I'd have gout.
I WANT TACOS, so badly. If we still lived in Texas, I would eat tacos every day, if someone would bring them to me. Tacos tacos tacos. Also, a hamburger. What keeps me from gorging myself is that it takes effort to go get food.
Lord, I'm so hungry.
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