So, this pregnant alcoholic woman walks into a bottleshop today and says "Hi, what's your cheapest bottle of red wine?"

Seriously. I felt SO guilty, and kept looking around praying no-one I knew would see me in there. It was for a recipe, I promise. I do feel very grown up now, being able to handle cooking with wine again. I even have real vanilla essence in my pantry these days, not the safe imitation! After seven years .... you'd think I'd be ok with it!! Anyway, Jamie Olivers Kinda Spaghetti Bolognaise simply HAS to be cooked with red wine. I made my own garlic bread, and a Greek salad to go with it. Since I gave up the booze and drugs many moons ago, I've discovered that I rather enjoy nice food. Who knew? I never used to eat properly - wouldn't waste my money on it.

I was wondering the other day if anyone around me thinks I shouldn't have kids, because I could pass on the addictive gene. Therein lies the dilemma ..... nature versus nurture? I personally lean more towards the nurture. If a child is listened to, communicated with, shown self-respect and worth .... knowing that he/she is loved, then they are much more ready and able to face up to lifes challenges. However, I realised a few weeks ago, that for poor Tiger (and Monkey) ..... BOTH parents and ALL four grandparents have alcohol/drug issues. Shit! I'd never really realised it before, I freaked out a bit and felt almost guilty.

Moving right along ....
Sitting on the couch with Mr TC recently, he suddenly stares at me thoroughly, looks me up and down, and says "Geez, hon. You really better do something about those floobadas. (Aussie slang for upper arm fat - supposed to resemble the sound your fat arms make when you wave ie. "Floobada floobada.") Can you believe the HIDE of the man?? Now, my husband definitely is fit and strong, but weedy and wimpy he aint. He's a big guy - weight is actually an issue for him and he has to watch what he eats, so I think he was just projecting his stuff onto me. I sat there, stunned, then fired back:
"I am PREGNANT!! What's your excuse? Oh, hang on, I know ....... GLUTTONY." He shut straight up.

If someone says something to me that I don't like, I can't tolerate it and must speak up. Usually in a rude way. I can't help it - it's like Tourettes. Two other examples -
Mr TC's bro was here on the weekend, helping us move furniture around. When he first arrived, he walked in the door, took one look at me, and started quacking like a duck. I realised he was inferring that I was waddling. I quickly told him to go fuck himself, there was no hint of a quack the rest of his time here. Later Mr TC told me I was rude because I swore at his brother - I thought he was rude, I'm trying so hard not to waddle lately!
This guy I sort of know (he's an electrician and does work for Mr TC - I've always thought he was sleazy) came up to me in a cafe yesterday and says "Oh my God!! Look at you!! Wow" I said I looked exactly how his mum would have looked when she was pregnant with him. He thought I was quite strange, I'm sure.

I just realised - that's three examples of guys commenting on my appearance! What's up with that?!