Have a Hot Pocket. They're breathtaking

I had this whole blog post thought out in my head this morning, and then I threw up twice, and now I can think of nothing but the waves of nausea hitting my poor, abused stomach. I will say this though--I'm still hoping J buys me some chocolates for Valentine's Day. Even if I can't eat them, I still think I'd enjoy staring at them and smelling them for a couple days. Heh, that reminds me of a story about my Dad. After he'd had his surgery and radiation for throat cancer, he had a feeding tube put in his stomach because the doctors knew that if he tried to eat by mouth, he'd probably never get anything down. So for a year there, he'd walk by the dinner table and ask to smell our plates. And it actually seemed to make him happy. He'd also pour a couple cups of coffee down his tube every morning. That always cracked me up--you know you are a coffee junkie when you pour it directly into your stomach. He took that feeding tube business like a champ. Went through that for a whole year, and I've had morning sickness for 7 weeks and feel like running head-on into a granite wall. I apparently got the recessive "wuss" gene.