Wanna know why I love living in Brooklyn and rue the day I'll eventually have to move out to the burbs? Take a look at this photo I took--with my new swanky iphone no less--at the Fairway grocery store last weekend.

The guy's making fresh mozzarella right there at the counter. Can you believe that? I never saw anything like that at any of the grocery stores in Washington, DC, the DC suburbs, or central Virginia. Even San Francisco, folks. And it was good mozzarella, too.

(Mmmmm. Sorry: took a blogging break to grab a slice of that gorgeous cheese.)

Plus they've got a whole bar of pickled things made right there in the store--not just cucumbers but olives and green tomatoes (which I've been craving like mad lately.)

Why the cravings, you ask? Why, yes: I am pregnant again. Actually four and a half months along. I still can't believe that we got pregnant again so soon after the miscarriage, but there you go: and it seems just about fitting that the little munchkin's gonna get here right around Valentine's Day. Well, give or take a week, maybe two.... These things are notoriously hard to predict.

Aside from the cravings--and subsequent exuberant fondness for stores that provide satisfying answers to said cravings--I haven't really had any symptoms. No morning sickness. Not that much weight gain yet. Haven't felt any movement yet either. Slight indigestion but that may be because of my tendency to eat past satiety. Other than that I think I actually understand those women who don't realize they're pregnant until the fifth or sixth month. If I only got my period sporadically? I'd probably just think I'd put on a few pounds.... Well, of course there's the strange sensitivity to smells and the mysteriously expanding boobs. Seriously: I've gone up two cups sizes since June 1. It's kinda like going through puberty.

I kept the secret long after the first trimester out of superstition. There was a part of me that really believed that the first pregnancy ended last March because I'd revealed too much too soon. And I wasn't about to do it again this time. That in some way I'd failed to protect her/him. Now, I know that's totally unrealistic--most miscarriages are due to some chromosomal abnormality--but feelings have a funny way of ignoring reality. At least mine do.

I'm in the second trimester now. 18 weeks today, actually. And I'm eagerly awaiting that first flutter of movement. I was going to wait to blog about it until after the 20 week anatomy scan--after I knew everything was okay with his/her heart, limbs etc.

But I'm tired of feeling apprehensive. If something bad happens, I'll deal with it. In the meantime: I'm going to let myself feel happy, feel hopeful.

Even start to think of myself as Mommy.

Sounds strange, huh?