winning the lottery (lyn)

Meredith and I meet for dinner at Five Napkin Burger.  The name references the number of napkins needed to sop up the juice from one of their gigantic burgers.  We’ve had the plan for a few weeks, but as the night approaches, I am still on the high side of what I want to weigh, and I’ll be celebrating two nights of Passover next week.  As much as I want the burger, before leaving home, I scan Menupages for an alternative. 

The restaurant is crowded, but we get a nice window booth.  Seated at the table near ours is a family with three young children.  The baby, about one, is screeching.  But she quickly wins us over with a big smile and an effort at friendliness.  When you are that cute, it doesn’t take much.  Our waiter, though not cute at all, could learn a lot from this one-year old.  He makes no attempt to accommodate, and effortlessly conveys his annoyance at being a waiter.  Clearly this is not his dream job.

I skip the burger, as much as I want it and as good as it looks, and get instead three lobster roll sliders on little brioche buns, with perfectly cooked fries.  The meal is good, but not nearly as good as the fresh lobster I get at Cataumet Fish Market on the Cape ( for half the price).

I talk to Meredith almost daily, but we still have so much to say when we get together.  Among the things we talk about is how we’d spend 640 million (actually 225 million after-taxes) if we win the Mega Million jackpot tomorrow.  Meredith surprises me by saying that whatever plan she’s thought about, it always includes me.  I almost tear-up.  It’s one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me.  The odds of winning are ridiculously low, but in some ways I feel as if I’ve already won, just minus the driver and four-bedroom terraced apartment.