Chocolate Cheesecake

Tim and I have both expressed a wistful rememberance of the days when we could savor our food. These days, eating outside of a meal frame consists of a curious boy at our lap wanting to help, and a dog ever at the ready. Or, eating at the kitchen table while Gabriel goes "Ennhh? Ennhh?" and requires a bite to every bite and a half of your own, which leaves you gulping your treat so that you can at least eat half, as you wince in time to the metal spoon banging the pan/oven/etc. Tonight Pregnant Woman finally purchased the chocolate cheesecake (in 4 different variations per cheesecake, heh hehheh) she had been craving, and when arriving home, made her hot tea, and furtively opened her cheesecake. She nochalantly sidled past the child in the dining room who was busying himself flinging papers off the dining table with the cheesecake on her far side, and slipped into the computer room, out of sight. Where she savored her cheesecake, bite by slow delicious bite. Ahhh.

And another thing. I am TIRED, capital T, rhymes with D, stands for...zzzzz. I am tired, layered with a tasty spread of exhausted, covered with a meaty chunk of I wish I could sleep more than 24 hours in a day, sprinkled with I'm tired when I wake up in the morning, and only awake when I lay down to go to sleep at night, drizzled with an icing of snore.

Longing for the industrious wakefulness of second trimester...