A Softball Game? or You Ate What?

A Softball Game? A Softball Game? Yes, Katrina is playing softball today for her hospital's company outing. Good lord! I have images of some nitwit sliding into second base and cleting my unborn child! Not everyone at the hospital knows yet. We want to wait until at least her first doctor's appointment.

I have slowly but surely started taking on the role of the Food Nazi. Well, maybe not Nazi, but certainly Supreme Allied Food Commander. No nitrates, no antibiotics, no caffeine, nothing overtly artificial, no sushi, no soft cheese, no seafood (Mercury bad for baby brains!), no undercooked meats, no charcoal grilled food (Carcinogens and Mercury! Yikes!).

Of course, on Friday night Katrina wanted to "celebrate" by going to Crif Dogs -- a hot dog joint that serves bizarre concoctions like bacon wrapped dogs with avocado and sour cream on top (The Chihuahua). Bacon!? Nooooo, bacon. There be nitrates in there. Hot dogs?! BAH, no lips and assholes for my child.

So, I get the call from the softball game that she's been dry heaving and has had two hamburgers from a CHARCOAL GRILL. D'OH. Good lord! Were they cooked enough at least?! Hmmm, it's hard being a Supreme Allied Food Commander when my First goes ahead and approaches the front without proper intelligence.

I go and see Revenge of the Sith at the Ziegfeld with my friend Adam, because he hasn't seen it and my initial viewing was disappointing. I like it when the sound makes my seat rumble, you see. On the subway, I notice a father carrying a stroller up the stairs to transfer to the G train. Adam sees me focusing on this moment and says, "Oh God. I hadn't thought of that." Something tells me I'm going to be saying the same thing a lot over the next nine months.