My apprehension was lessened by a look at the menu. There were several dishes available and I was sure the food was going to be fresh. Plus, the prices were a little higher than our usual restaurant fare, and in the past, higher price has meant higher quality. However, my hopes were squandered once more as the waitress brought out plastic utensils and a breadbasket full of pre-packed sauces. I soon discovered that the food was served on plastic plates. Strike two.
I wanted to give the place a fair chance so I ordered the shrimp. A rarity for me, but something I try when I know it will be fresh. The menu described the shrimp as “steamed and served with a butter and garlic sauce.” Just the way I prefer it. Things were looking up.
My plastic plate came, filled with shrimp and a ketchup cup of butter…sauce. As I dipped my crustacean into the cup, my eyes seemed to fool me. “This looks too thick to be butter”, I thought. I lifted the shrimp to my mouth and took a bite. The taste of the sauce was familiar. Very salty. Very fake buttery. Very much like the stuff they squirt onto popcorn at movie theatres. Very much indeed popcorn butter. Strike three.
So the long and short of it is, I had steamed shrimp with two pumps of popcorn butter on a plastic plate in a place dirtier than the Sev down the street. And it wasn’t cheap. Heck, I think I would have been better off with a rotating hotdog.
But life is full of change, and in this situation, its good change.
Our near-the-beach cottage
Oliver's first time feeling the ocean
Now I’m trying to teach my baby to fall asleep using the book, Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child by Marc Weissbluth, M.D., as my guide. Nearly every night I hear myself echoing some portion of the book to Jess:
“The book says that babies shouldn't get used to music…”
“But we shouldn’t do that because the book says not to.”
“The book mentioned that babies do that, and Oliver just did!”
Well, now the book is telling me this:
And I am trying to work it into Oliver’s schedule because I understand he’s got a rhythm. And he needs his sleep. This chart is a cinch to follow when I rock Oliver to sleep, no problem. But that is the problem, I rock him to sleep. The book teaches (there I go again) to allow him to learn how to soothe himself. So far, we are 0 and 100 or so with this method. Self-soothing is losing, and losing big. And every time it loses, I go back to the book for solace, a cause to which it never fails. Helpful hints are indicated along the way and they help me to persevere.
I’ll let you know if I succeed. And if not, I may resort to Lima beans or hope that there’s a gene for sleeping habits, and that mine is dominant.
A rare moment for Ollie, asleep
Living in a highrise is a little different from living in a basement. Wait, a lot different, starting with the amount of natural light we get to enjoy. Plus there's a rubbish shoot for your trash. Yep, a rubbish shoot. Does anyone else find that interesting/odd/curious? A great idea.