Just before I ran into the grocery store, Coach called to see what was for dinner. A bit of pizza casserole leftovers and the leftover pulled pork. Here's where it gets complicated (apparently): 'If it doesn't look like there is enough, make a few chicken patties. The kids love those and I have buns that need to be eaten anyway.'*
|groceries: half of my half load as the first half was|
already put away by the time I realized that
I needed a picture to share with you.
I was hating everything. My burning eyes. (wishing I had thought to take contacts out before I hopped in the car). The grocery store. The jeans I was wearing that I really love, but something about the waist makes my belly fat fall over the top of them and jiggle more than other jeans. And hey, I admit the longer I sit in my damn house with screaming babies, the more I stress eat - or panic-eat, like 'not sure when I will be able to move from the couch. No sudden movements if Scary starts to eat his bottle, better stock up on some serious calories now.' Yes, that is a thing.
Shit. Didn't mean to make this so lengthy. 'And the Oscar for the best digresser goes to . . .' I came home. At last. Gave a 'be home in 3 minutes - need grocery help' text to Coach. He had several warm bodies ready to help and he seemed confused afterwards: 'Is that it?' Yep. That's all I have energy for people. A half a load of groceries. Have no fear, I am sure I will be back at the dreaded grocery day after tomorrow. Sigh.
|Do you know what a bunt-ette is? |
Do you have
Nothing Bunt Cakes where you live?
If you don't, you should.
That's right. All of this (three blog posts) to inform you that my people, the ones that I haul my ass to the store for multiple times a week, did NOT save me a sufficient portion of a gluten free dinner. The suggested chicken patties 'if it looks like there isn't enough'* were never made. I cannot eat a chicken (covered-in-gluten) patty.
Don't you worry though. Remember that my mom dropped off a cake for the family for Valentines Day and she brought me a gluten free bunt-ette (I almost auto-corrected that to 'Brunette'. I am that tired. If my blog post announced that my mom brought me a gluten free brunette when I was hungry, you would have had questions - which might have required yet another post to explain).
I dove right into my individual sized cake after my dinner-less meal. As I was eating the cake, Lad called. Sigh.