Oh there's so much to say.

I threw my back out, and by throw I mean, I messed it the f up. And I spent two of the days last week puking from the pain. And then the other two with a migraine as an after effect.

With a capitol A. So. Awesome.

But now I'm better. And despite having a To Do list the size of the Bible, I am doing a lot better this week.

But like I said, there is just soooo much to blog about.

I've wanted to blog about so so so many things. So I'll recap them here in short little versions.

First, I should never have attempted to watch the Blindside while pregnant. Damn these pregnancy hormones. First things first, it took me like six different attempts to get through the whole movie and every one of those attempts left me balling like a crazy person: Sobbing hysterically, hugging a box of Kleenex and usually inhaling something chocolate, ok always inhaling something chocolate. It was awful. Terrible. Zach is seriously worried about me.

I think the hormones just get worse. I think I have something I like to call Pre-Partum depression, only I'm not depressed just a faucet of emotions that can't be turned off.

It's awful.

Second, Saladmaster is truly amazing. And it has totally, totally turned my life around. I mean, there are things out there I never would have known if it weren't for those pots and pans. And yes, the whole thing is a little cheesy and frankly I am not down with the selling of it, but not because of any other reason then I don't want to work for anyone else and do it. And there are a bazillion reasons why, but I should definitely not post those on the Internet where nothing is EVER erased.

But it has taught me all kinds of things. Such as the dangers of a microwave. They open our bodies up to cancer even by just heating up water. Not to mention the fact that we are willfully ingesting radiation. They are like little hot boxes of death.

Also, anything processed is about as deadly as a heart attack, meaning they will cause a heart attack. The best way to eat is homemade everything. Even the bad stuff. Like if you're going to eat bacon, eat the real thing. Or eggs, eat the real thing. Or cookies, make them from scratch because those tubes or sheets from Pillsbury will single handily clog every single artery you have. The best rule of thumb is to stay to the outskirts of the grocery store, follow the edges. Produce, fresh meat/seafood, refrigerated sections and such. Those are usually on the outside walls of the stores. Anything with a shelf life of four years cannot be good for you. That includes canned veggies and fruits. And usually anything in the frozen section save for frozen veggies and fruit which are the next best thing to fresh, is awful for you as well. Those frozen entrees are full of death and fat.

Aluminum is going to kill this generation. It's not only in your pans, but your antiperspirant and things like Pam cooking spray too.

And you can say oh my parents were fine, and their grandparents were fine. But trust me, they do not eat what we eat today and with the crap in our food that we do.

Thirdly, a mom at dance had a Camo-Case for her blackberry. Yes, that's right. A Camo-Case. And she pulled it out for everyone to see. The last time I checked Camouflage is not a good fashion statement and hasn't been popular since Scary Spice. I understand that it's a necessity while hunting, but if the need arises to camouflage your phone you probably aren't doing that great of a hunting job in the first place. And on top of it all, there's just no reason to disguise your phone in the city. Neither an angry hawk or aggressive mugger is interested in that ugly thing. Put it away.

Fourthly, I've decided I'm no longer the party going person. What? I was before? No, I've never been the partier per say. I like people. Well usually I like people. Pregnancy messes me up and makes me all introverted. And then my brain tells the other side of my brain, hey wait you're not an introvert, you're an extrovert and meanwhile my mouth does nothing but stay closed and my fingers fidget and my palms get all sweaty and suddenly I'm having social anxiety and then I look around and I'm like, what the heck am I doing here? I don't even like parties.

Especially not Halloween parties. Lets get one thing straight: costumes were made for children. That's great if you want to dress up in lingerie, throw some animal ears on and prance around like you're Bambi. But that wouldn't be attractive if I did it barren, let alone at six months pregnant. And there is no way in H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks you are going to get me to cut a hole in my shirt and pain my belly orange just to mimic a Jack-O-Lantern because the only thing I'm going to resemble is a giant Jackass.

That being said, Saturday night Zach and I went to a Halloween Party. It was awesome..... I mean other people had a ton of fun! I mean, I actually had a ton of fun, sitting at the table, talking to the four other people I knew. I went as a Gypsy and Zach went as Charlie from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. We stepped wayyyy out of our comfort zone. Or, ahem, went as more extreme versions of ourselves. The theme for the party was Gansta's and Flappers, but we've never been much for following directions. Plus, do you know what they did with pregnant girls in the 20's? Hid them at home. That's right.

They also encouraged them to smoke and drink wine, but it was a different age, a different time, a time without epidurals or privacy rooms.

So. No thanks. I don't need to relive the 20's.

I do however need to remind myself why I've always avoided those things in the first place.

And finally. Sometimes I'm a failure. The other day I failed. And it all revolves around the fact that I'm not a touchy feely person. I feel like I was at one time in my life. Like you know, the hugger when I would first see you or high five you or something. But now I can't even bring myself to high five. A handshake is usually as close as I get with people and that's only at Saladmaster parties when it's part of my job.

So a good friend needed a hug the other day and literally I talked myself up about it the whole way to go see her. I convinced myself it was the first thing I was going to do and that I wouldn't be awkward about it or half hearted, but I would make it a real, meaningful hug. People need hugs. They do. And sometimes situations call for me to get over myself and give them.

But then the time came. And went. And all I could manage was an arm rub.

Talk about awkward.

Ugh. I have a serious problem.

I think (Don't feel too sorry for me here.) but the phobia began after my dad died. Oh my word, sooo many hugs. All the time, people were hugging me. And expecting emotions. And waiting for tears. And hugging me and hugging me. And I have never been able to properly show human emotions since then. It's awful to lose someone you love, and you certainly aren't on display for people to judge your emotions accordingly. But that is exactly how it feels.

And then all 500 people that show up at the funeral want to hug you like they are the person that died and they last for way to long, minutes, hours, days...... And then the whole crying thing. I'm not sure anyone feels attractive while they're blubbering their eyes out, yet what person with functional tear ducts doesn't cry at the death of her father?

Oy.

It's not much of an excuse. It actually sounds more like I need therapy than anything else. And what worries me the most is just because I don't hug people will think that the sentiment isn't there and that the only thing living in my brain is shallow, self-centeredness. When it's actually the opposite. I don't want to bombard people with meaningless displays of affection and instead save them for moments that truly matter.

However, that will only happen if I can Cowboy-Up and give out the damn hug when the situation requires it.