Now, I know there are things I'm not supposed to eat. Unpasteurized cheese (because of the listeria thing, but seriously, if you already have encephalitis, how much damage could it do? JUST kidding!), liver, pate, etc. (Vitamin A overload), no rare meat, no shellfish unless I cook it myself (like that is EVER going to happen until we're back on the Gulf Coast). But seriously, we're going to be in La Grange for a week and in that time, I can make no promises about what I consume, mainly because French food is just so much more INTERESTING that English food. And they don't always tell you what is in the food. Vegetarian? 'But of course this is vegetarian,' the server will say with a Gaelic shrug, completely ignoring that the broth is beef marrow. . .
The big dilemma is what to pack. I know, I know. I am so limited at the moment, hemmed in by the pallet of maternity wear that has been so kindly provided for me. I will take two comfy wool sweaters in a soft cappuccino colour, two tops in olive, several scarves, lots of woolly tights (thanks, Matalan!) and my new Shitkicker boots (in brown). I will also take a lovely patterned skirt and one or two of my wrap dresses and two pairs of trousers. Trousers are, of course, the most challenging thing about my life at the moment. I have 3 pairs that I can wear: a pair of Ann Taylor Jeans (size 14 from my very fat assed - post-Chicago days), a pair of size 12 Ann Taylor chinos (I know, WTF) and a pair of maternity trousers in black. They make me look Tony Robbins good.
Ehem. Not that I'm channeling Jeremy Piven's ego or anything. . .
It is a good thing your dad is going; he can carry my luggage. : )