I just found myself hunched over the kitchen sink stuffing dill pickles into my mouth, not five minutes after I walked in the front door with the groceries. As soon as I unearthed the jar of pickles in the grocery bag, I went straight to the sink (so as to shovel in the pickles more rapidly, without getting pickle juice all over my clothes) and started yanking on the lid. There was a panicky moment during which I was afraid I wasn’t going to be able to get the jar open. I actually considered going over to the neighbor’s house and getting them to open it for me. But then the lid popped off in my hand, and as the first bite of salty pickle hit my tongue, I thought, “That is pure ambrosia. How can anything be this good?” Seriously, it was one of the best food-related moments I’ve had in months, if not years. Then I realized what a stereotypical pregnant woman I was being and had to stop and laugh at myself for a minute. That didn’t keep me from eating a couple more pickles, though.
At least I didn’t want to eat the pickles with ice cream. That would have made me feel really silly. 🙂