Stressed by a Peanut Butter Sandwich

As I said, I am doing the feeding now. I am happy to be the "boss," as Ben calls it, but it is much more difficult than I thought. When I feed him, there are two data takers in the room tapping away on their computers, evaluating every move that Ben and I take. This afternoon, the stress of being dissected at each moment was almost too much. I know they have to be in there, and I know their data is important, but I am struggling with being in the hotseat, and thinking on my feet is a substantial shortcoming for me.

The food that is throwing me off is the PB sandwich. I have to judge each bite's size, and decide if it is big enough to count as the size of a green pea. If it is a big enough bite, I praise him, and we move on. If the bite is more of a nibble, then I ignore it, and do not reset the timer until he takes an appropriate size bite, or the time allowed per bite is up. It all boils down to a judgment call, and you do not have time to second guess yourself. The thing that makes this burdensome for me is the two data takers sitting there evaluating my actions. I am trying to block them out. I thought their poker faces were hysterical until I found myself under their magnifying glass.

Being a self-proclaimed foodie, I have to mention the delectable dinner that was brought in tonight. A yummy salad, crab chowder, crabcakes, grilled chicken (which was so moist), ribeye steak, grilled fresh veggies, and a vast array of dreamy desserts. I had to take a picture of my plate so that I could savor the memories. Sadly, I was too beaten down by the sandwich stress to work out today, and was completely lacking in enough self control to resist the creamy chowder and dessert. I glutted shamelessly.

I may not love the freakish pedestrians, and am stupified by the city drivers, but the generosity of the community is remarkable. Many people here are the epitome of charity.