Cooking Block

Today I found out I am the most recent victim of a terrible, horrible, debilitating disease.  Luckily, I don’t believe it’s terminal, and I certainly hope it’s curable.  I have succumbed to cooking block.  I may or may not have just coined the term myself as a knock-off of writer’s block.  Whatever.  The point is that it is 3:18, my superman will probably be home in an hour, and he will most likely be famished (As I myself am at the moment) and there is nothing prepared to eat for dinner.

I’ve spent the last couple hours poring over my cookbooks and recipe apps–punctuated by brief intermissions during which I stare hopelessly into the gaping depths of my refrigerator–and it’s all to no avail.

I suppose the real problem is that I’m being too picky about what exactly I want to eat.  There certainly isn’t any lack of food in the house.  I even have shrimp and pasta at the same time, which equals a positively delightful meal.  But I’m having a hard time committing to the pasta.  After all, I spent part of this morning working out.  Not a walk in the park when you have the equivalent of a bowling ball stuck on your belly.  It stands to reason that I don’t want to make that workout void with a lovely, delicious, buttery shrimp pasta dish.

If I’m really feeling like I’m on a healthy binge, I could just toss some salad stuff together and lightly sautee the shrimp to use as a topping.  But seriously.  Who wants to eat salad for dinner?  Food eats salad for a snack.  Plus, I’m hungry enough that the thought of only eating salad for dinner is making me grouchy.  That’s new too.  I’m usually the most laid back person in the world when it comes to food.   Little Baby P. is turning me into a food monster–probably the most annoying thing about being pregnant.  I don’t like feeling hungry all the time, especially when I’m gaining weight no matter how carefully I eat. Eating for two nothing.  I’m eating exactly the same as I did before I got pregnant, and still gaining more weight than I think I should be.  Blech.  Not fun.

At any rate… if you know of a cure for Cooking Block, make sure and let me know.  I’m going to go stare into the depths of refrigerator and wait for inspiration–or a snack–to hit me in the face!  Toodles!


2 thoughts on “Cooking Block

  1. Babby says:

    You need an older woman to take you in hand and get rid of this foolish idea about gaining too much weight. You are wildly NOT in danger of that! One doesn’t need to go overboard in either direction, but babies need fatty milk. Brain development depends largely on it. I’ll stop there. You can read up about it. Enjoy your pasta!

  2. Anne says:

    Ya know, I don’t think you realize what you do to the people around when you write about that stuff. It only causes hurt and extreme shame to those of us ………who DON’T have a bowling ball strapt to our stomachs and we STILL don’t exercise! Lol talk about making me feel like a fat lazy walrus…. Hee hee

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