Sun-dried tomato raspberry surprise

Chicago was hit by a rash of rather nasty storms last night. We were out of power for about five hours at the apartment, while the people across the street peered out from their well-lit homes at us with pity. I typically have enough candles to make even the most observant cult member happy, but as it tuns out - when you have two kittens you can't light about 50 candles throughout the house with the expectation that your abode will remain flame-free. Burning whiskers stink too, in case you're wondering. And the smell of lots of scented candles when you're newly pregnant is a bit overwhelming.

And since the OB {I really must come up with a name for him} had specifically said "no sex" last night (due to the spotting following the exam) well, our options for entertainment at home were rather slim. So, we got into the car and dropped my giant stack of prescriptions off

---- tangent bitch about my insurance company -------
My doctor gave me a prescription for 100 pills of each of the medicines, but dear Blue Cross Blue Shield will only let me fill one month's worth at a time, which they equate to be 30 days. Now, perhaps I'm mistaken, but I seem to recall that indeed some months do extend beyond 30 days in duration. This isn't really a big deal, except that the prometrium isn't one of the "preferred" brands on the formulary which means that this is going to be an expensive 18 weeks or so.
------- end bitch session. maybe. mostly. who knows. I'm kinda bitchy in general right now. ---

So while we're waiting on the prescriptions I realize that even with the gas stove, I can't cook unless I light the stove with a match as the electric starter will not light. Which yes, most normal people would have no problem doing this, but me... I have an extreme fear of lighting gas stoves with a match. So instead I whine/bitch/moan and P finally just says "o.k. let's go out to dinner tonight!" (I think he thought if my mouth was full of food I'd be less likely to moan about everything which I have been wont to do as of late).

So we went to a new Italian place that took over for our beloved tapas restaurant with the amazing butternut squash ravioli. There was a delicious sounding cavatappi with sun-dried tomatoes and chicken which I was so excited about. I absolutely adore sun-dried tomatoes and have been known to throw them in everything I eat, or stand absent mindedly in front of the pantry, eating them by the handful. Well, that is, until last night.

Apparently sundried tomoatoes are now disgusting. I must've spent 20 minutes picking them out of my food and forking them over to his place. He assured me that they were not rotten, as I thought - but compeltely normal tasting. I still don't believe him.

If someone wants to have dessert without my spoon making an uninvited appearance, the easiest way to do that is to somehow incorporate raspberries into it. I love all fruit... except raspberries. I don't know what it is about those vile little glistening berries, but they make me wretch - even without the benefit of morning sickness. That is, until last night. Suddenly they are delicious.

And that leaves me questioning whether my tongue has been replaced by someone else's when I was sleeping. And I have been so hungry for chicken fried steak (or just meat, eggs and cheese in general) in the last two days that I have been near tears. Isn't it a bit early to have such strange taste changes/aversions?