Bearded Gang

I have these folks that come into my deli I call guardian angels. They aren’t coming in and blocking bullets for me or pushing me out of the way of an oncoming tour bus. They don’t announce themselves or have halos hanging over their heads. I’d probably tell them to get the hell out if they did because I’m expecting someone with a cellphone recording the damn thing to play a prank on me.

These folk come in when I’m having a rough mental day. The deli gives me a lot sometimes not on purpose but somedays it pokes me in the rib cage. On slow days I’ll have some random person walk in at 4pm when I’m standing behind the counter wondering if I should close early and just start grabbing one of each in my deli market. They’ll grab groceries, sweets, a few sammies and buy the only two boxes I made that day for grab and go’s. The market items don’t sell often. They no longer cost me anything to keep on the shelves since I paid for them long ago and I’m hard headed. I’ll check them out and they’ll be on their way. I have unspoken expectations on sales everyday. On notoriously slow days my expectations are quite low but still easily achievable but some days we don’t hit it and I let it affect me. Then some random person who you wouldn’t expect to do much other than buy a sammy walks in and spends $165. I get ready to leave my deli. Hit my sales button and here we are. My quota has been hit. Obviously this doesn’t happen every day I don’t carry a rabbits foot up my tuckus but I grateful for it.

Sometimes it’s not a purchase but a person just saying the right thing. I deal with a lot of “why do I keep doing this?” on bad days. Yesterday a lady ordered a Reuben and left. She turned right back around and ran into the deli with her car running to let us know that she had never had a Reuben before and it was the best sandwich she ever had. I was in a particular state of mind at that time and it loosened my shoulders. It was needed

Thank you

I see these as guardian angels. I RECOGNIZE these as such because that’s what they are to me. As I’ve mentioned it’s not an everyday occurrence and I have some terrible days with no assistance because that’s fucking life. Some subjects I don’t post that much on social media because believe it or not there are some things I hold close to me that is meant only for me and maybe two other people in my life.

My verbiage and overall attitude projects that I lack faith at times. I have my beliefs that I hold very dear to me. I have found a comfortable niche in my faith and beliefs since I was a teen that I’ve maintained over the last 40 years. It has evolved over time from experiences and consistent and without certain rhetorics. It’s intimate to me. It’s mainstream representation I do not follow. This is absolutely no knock on anyone else’s faith. I honor anyone’s beliefs as if they were mine.

It’s not my call yall. My faith is in my soul not in a 15,000 sq ft building. Thats not meant as a knock. Religion representation has become hard to swallow due to mainstream media outlets. It’s a me thing not you.

I go about my rituals at night and some nights, not all because I have other things twirling in my mind, I’ll have a conversation with anyone that might be listening and ask for some guidance because man some days I can’t handle shit. I don’t get mad if I feel like no one is listening because regardless I’m airing it out mentally and that brings awareness to my situation and it allows me to let off steam if I’m not airing it out on fb.

I believe in manifestation. The more I think on it the more I feel it’s existence. It’s not magic it’s honing in on something and drawing yourself towards it. It’s mental sonar you ping it and go towards it. It might be on the other side of the poles but if you know it’s there and you want it bad enough you’ll find it. Manifesting is just a word it’s up to you to make it an action. Sometimes it will take you out of your comfort zones. It may feel like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff over water and it’s telling you to jump. That sonar ping may be at the bottom of the ocean or lake and the only way to get to it is to jump in and sink for a bit.

Just gotta have faith faith faith uh 🎶

I manifested a little last night. For no reason whatsoever I just wasn’t having a good day. Days like that there are no jokes or hugs that work for me I just get my dumps deepened and I have to get through my day. Sometimes I sit by myself and close my eyes for a bit. And sometimes that helps as long as no one is around.

It’s my mini meditation station.

I had some conversations with myself when I got into bed last night. Normally I can fall asleep at the drop of a hat but it took me about 45 minutes to find my snooze groove. I let my mind wander because it was restless so I let it out to play. It took me to some new places in my mind and produced some new horizons for me to seek out should I choose to.

Pings

I picked up a little something and went down that path and chased a ping that made sense in my head but man would it take me out of my comfort zone and I fucking love my comfort zones.

I even cried a little.

Surreal but not sad. Part of my bedtime process is lying in bed to release my day for good. Like ripping off a paper towel sheet, wiping off the counter and tossing the paper in the trash. I put on my headphones and an eye mask and I go wherever my mind takes me. There are no distractions, complete darkness and some music I hand picked for every evening. My emotions react differently to every song. I’ve trained them to do this it’s a part of my meditation. I’ve done this enough now to where my mind can travel to a memory when a certain song comes on. Even if I’m driving. I can smell my memories, almost feel the presence of passed loved ones. This isn’t an overnight thing I’ve been practicing this for over a year.

I do this mind rinse every night. I have to release things. I do this to give my family the best Chad that’s out there because that’s what my life is all about now.

Sometimes I pick up pings and I did last night. When I get pings my mind goes into hyper space and it hones in on that ping like Google earth. My fingers pinch and pinch just enough until where my mind says “I see it!” and then immediately zooms out.

Me-“Hey Mani. I love this but dont think I can do this”

Mani- “just jump Chad”

Mani isn’t much for words but then same.

Every ping I’ve chased since I’ve started having them have made an impression on my life. They don’t have to be life changing to make an impression. Your mind pings on all sorts of shit it takes time and patience and a whole lotta instinct to pick out the real ones.

I sound like a fucking hippie. No offense.

I’ve got my mind on it Mani. I gotta think about this one for a bit but for now I gotta go make some charcuterie love.

I’m 53 years of age.

53

Average life span is creeping up man.

Average lifespan for people like me (white American male is 74.8 years. I’m 53.3333333 at the moment. Law of averages means if I go bout my business I have 21 years to finish up everything before someone else is talking me up behind a podium with some sort of bloated eulogy and Facebook photos cropped and downloaded and on a digital stick with a timely shuffle to sift through my life moments while some folk sit in a bleached congregation of brick and mortar while mourning and or celebrating my memory.

I’m pleased that I won’t live to see it.

No one lives forever. I used to be obsessed with immortality. “How do/can I skip the mortal part?”

As a kid you want to live forever. That vibe stays with you until it doesn’t.

I love living life. With every shitty memory I have 100 more awesome memories to trump it. Always been my philosophy that if you have a shitty day today make sure it doesn’t repeat itself on the next one. Doesn’t always work out that way sometimes the days can string together some consecutive doozies.

It’s life. Life’s hard most of the time.

If it’s easy for you chances are you got a cart someone else is pulling for you.

At my age you start to slow things down because things move faster than they used to. Or the other perspective is you don’t move as fast as you used to. Technology starts to pass you by, traffic become more than congestion it becomes a hindrance. There aren’t that many first rodeos anymore in fact you’re filled to the tits with been there done thats. I find myself checking off things in my head that I no longer wish to persue or deal with.

Changing my algorithms as I call it.

I’ve visited places that I’ll never see again and talked with friends that I’ll never talk to again. No im not going anywhere anytime soon if I have my say so in the matter it’s just you reach a stage in life where you slowly begin to eliminate things as opposed to carry them along anymore.

You begin to lighten your life satchel. A lot of your necessities become unnecessary. It’s not any different than outgrowing your toys. You lose interest in things that have no real value in life. Ever see an old toy for sale and get excited “I used to play with this all the time!” You must’ve lost it you would’ve never parted with this. On a whim you purchase it. You take it home and stare at it. Maybe if it’s a toy plane you even walk around with it soaring in your hands making that old jet noise or “whooooosh” as you dip it down and raise it back in the air like you just found Jesus. You look down at the toy and smile, you and put it back in the box. With that smile you realized you aren’t that kid anymore. You’ve outgrown that toy. What a time you used to have back in the day with it. You never lost it you only lost the interest in it. Your parents discarded it for you. They already knew what you didn’t know.

I do this with quite a few things now including experiences and colleagues. It’s ok to think “I no longer need this person in my life”

It’s fine to part ways without drama. There can be peace with separation. Act accordingly.

This has absolutely nothing to do with anyone in my circle. I have the healthiest circle in all of my life and it will always be secured.

You begin to shed things is all. The older you get the less you can carry, the less you wish to carry.

Sometimes I look at my life as a pie chart. Not a complex one more of a balance of work and life. Working is a fundamental part of your life.

For the majority of us that is. Some of us don’t have to work as hard as others. That used to bother me. Still does on some platforms but usually only pertains to individuals working along side of me. Part of my lightening my satchel was eliminating most of my employees. My inner circle of employees become friends that I love but let’s be honest the other 75% of my staff were degenerates who made my day harder not easier. It’s the truth guys. The rising cost of goods takes the pride and heart out of your staff.

When I try to explain my burnout at my old company it’s misrepresented. I wasn’t burned out just on the service industry. I was burned out from working.

Period

I got into the work thing at 15. 30 hours a week while in school. I wanted to quit school and just work. Get out of school and go to work at 5pm. Get off at 9 or 10 and go home. Weekends I worked all day Saturday or Sunday be it first or second shift. Didn’t matter where. When I moved out of my parent’s house before my 18th birthday I put my head down and went to work.

And here we are.

From 15- 19 I worked about a dozen jobs. Summer types, odd ones and seasonal ones but I always had one. My parents struggled a tad financially so if I wanted something I worked for it and bought it and let me tell you I never got much. I’m talking about clothes and gas money not cars and hobbies. Or I’d buy the real brands and not the knock offs I’d have to wear to school. It was status for me y’all. I didn’t have much going for me as a teen. 2.0 gpa and my senior yearbook accomplishments filled up about two sentences on back page 73, paragraph 4, third sentence right above the Moore’s store ad.

Just let me live a little ffs.

I’ll never make fun of someone for what what little they have or they brand they represent. I used to get slapped in the back of that head walking down the school hallway for wearing off brand jackets. I was never a Members only but I wanted to be. When I was finally released from the bureaus of our state education duties I went straight to work. Sure I signed up for Tech too. Three times. Gave em around $2k of my hard earned money to drop out every first semester. School just never worked for me. Paying for something I absolutely hated was a hard pill to swallow. Looking back I’ve never regretted dropping out. I didn’t know what I wanted to do.

I’m 53 and still not sure. I sorta stopped searching to be honest.

I’ve mentioned before about why you don’t really see my daughter working in my deli. She does on occasion but it comes in small bursts. She just turned 15. She’s legally able to work. So was I at her age and I did. And I’m still trying to catch up what I’ve missed out on. Financially we are better off than my parents at this time but a broken leg can change all of that in one day. American healthcare raises it’s ugly head. My daughter will work in due time. I’m not raising her to join the working class ranks at 15. I’m not raising her to be me. What I will do is raise her to appreciate what she has and to find her zest in living and not just working.

I have literal decades of my life where the only thing I can reflect on is work. I had a little zest in between but there’s no balance. I’m the kid sitting on the seesaw alone. My ass is work, the empty seat hovering in the sky across from me is play.

If my life were a pie chart..

That’s probably being generous..

Overtime didn’t exist in my career. That’s acknowledging you worked more than the deeded 40 hour work week. It was the standard for me. If it wasn’t two jobs it was salary. Salary means your company owns you. I hit my first salary position at 26 and worked 50 plus hours for the next 23 years. 60,000 plus hours of my life I’ll never get back.

The reflection pool gets deeper as you get older. The further the depth the colder it gets.

The majority of us work because it’s like breathing. It’s on auto until it’s not. The same feeling of suffocation hits when you’re not able to one or the other.

I’ve been unemployed for a total of 4 months in my working career. Three of those when I had a DUI in ‘93. Took me a solid 8 years to get back to normal after that between money gouged from my checks for insurance and my dumbass having an affinity for credit cards in my early 20s.

The pressure to maintain is overwhelming at times and here we are expected to also set aside funds to finally allow us to stop working when we are too old and tired to actually perform in labor intensive jobs. 25% of the US population has up to $100k in their bank account. 20 years ago that may keep you around for a bit. You’ll run out of that in 5 years just from food and utilities.

Sometimes I want to take my life savings to Cherokee and put it all on red. If I win good for me if I lose it’s the feeling “ok I’ll go work my ass off and get it back until I can’t. That either reads as I can make a lot of money in a short time or my life savings is so meaningless that it doesn’t take much to reach that amount again. Choose either one.

This is a long ramble and I’m a rambler to the core. The more I write the deeper I can dig into myself and that’s a good thing y’all. Sometimes you have to chip away to get the bird shit off the statues. It’s therapeutic but at the same time it’s a restlessness that agitates me at times. Like a long line to the register to get your food when you skipped breakfast.

It’s hard to say this without it being a knock on my business. I love my deli. I get filled with pride when I’m inside doing my thing. When people come in complimenting, engaging and smiling that’s what I’m there for. Every single thing that comes out of that kitchen represents me and my brand. I don’t give a fuck if it’s two crackers in a build your own box. I inspect those crackers, I’m making sure I’m stuffing three oz of olives in a 2 oz cup. I’m inspecting my employee’s set up tasting everything he makes.

The system has made me this way. It’s a good trait but it’s exhausting.

I love the deli but at the same time I hate it. I’ve created my own leash and collar.

This isn’t a declaration of surprise or boggling. I knew this process before it started because well this isn’t my first rodeo. I did it to survive and remain relevant. If you aren’t relevant in this occupation you’ll get one write up in your local online periodical that announces that you’re now a statistic. Every one will say

“We loved that place!”

“I’m shocked it closed it was so good!”

And then move on to a new place faster than a teenage romance.

My passion is for creativity. It holds my attention. If you walk into that deli it changes every week. Why? Because that’s how I keep my sanity. If I feel something getting stagnant I become the same.

I’d throw my body against the wall for my old company and it took a beating. When I opened the deli I made a checklist of behavioral patterns I’m careful not to step into again. About once a week I find myself doing the some of the same song and dances I used to do with my old company.

It’s purely psychological I’m aware but work exhausts me now. The thought of going into work gives me anxiety. I used to think I pulled a vocation muscle but I’m beginning to think I broke it. It’s not physical health I could go on a 5 mile run tomorrow if I had to but work on the other hand I’m tired after about 2 hours.

Depleted

It’s completely mental and I’m dealing with it but it makes it a tad difficult when I’m trying to run a business. I’m good at what I do. I’m basing this on my experience and obviously the consumer’s reactions. I’m well experienced and prideful. I don’t troll reviews to be difficult I take them personal.

I used to love what I do and I don’t hate my career it’s just like a long relationship that’s lost it’s luster. There’s no romance, surprise gifts or hand holding. It’s sit across from the dinner table and eat your meal without saying a word. I knew I was in this headspace before I opened the deli.

Shake it off Gangwer it’ll get better.

That pie chart is not accurate obviously it’s a generated exaggeration.

But

At the age of 50 I had to acknowledge that my 30 plus years of hustling and bustling was a bust.

I do acknowledge that I have gained quite a bit of understanding of food and business. I can sit at a round table with big restaurant execs and fit right in if I took a moment to clean myself up. I’m probably more qualified than most of them to be honest I’ve always remained hands on it’s the only way I know how to work.

I envy those professional athletes that realize their passion for the game has left and they retire. I forgot to save my signing bonuses so that won’t be me.

This blog has turned into a diatribe of self pity and maybe that’s where I was going? Maybe not I think I was trying to manifest some sort of savior moment with my writing and conjur up the answer to the universe but I’ve seemed to have missed.

Let’s lighten up this tone a tad.

When I walk into my deli I let out a big sigh and smile. I walk around and do my checklist routine. I walk past my coolers I purchased, my ovens, my food and creations and I exude pride. It’s a positive extension of me. Its my new baby.

I created Graze to survive. Every month there’s a new mother fucker doing charcuterie out of their homes or garages I have to contend with. My sales were not dipping they were maintaining. For 8 months they maintained and didn’t rise. Previously they were increasing.

I bring up Southern a lot because she was the belle of the group. Other than occasional miss management from some extremely sub par GMs we kept landing she kept the company sailing. Sometimes she paid everyone else’s bills. As a business man I’ll always say let the sinking ships sink. We might’ve exposed her by using her to keep the others afloat. The last year I was at SC it was hard. Weekends dropped in sales (except for brunch) and weekdays became a ghost town. $5k Thursdays were $2k. I was spent trying to revive her every damn season. It gave me some ptsd. If graze has a few consecutive slow days I react in kind. I’m sitting on breakfast at the moment to try to not be the knee jerk reaction jackass I’ve become. When it’s slow I start moving furniture. It takes my mind off my anxiety. Just thinking about it exhausts me.

I’m surrounded by compliments with my work. And it gives me energy to go about my business. By compliments I mean the total strangers that walk into my place every week thanking me for opening the deli. That’s all I want these days. Im not chasing that empire anymore my feet are too tired. All I ask for nowadays is to not have that dread of watching my business bank account dip below the holy shit level. It’s not there yall and it’s not the subject of this blog. I could do $10k in two days and then $200 the next and my mind goes into auto fail.

“Is this the start of the decline?”

“Did I fuck up opening this place?”

Have you ever experienced this?

It starts with a monthly meeting of financials. You’re pouring over your P&Ls “we had a soft month and finished 8% under last years sales”

Everyone throws in their two cents as to why

“Election year, it always screws us everyone is holding onto their wallets”

“New restaurant opened down the road”

“Construction across the street is causing detours”

You all throw out your excuses hoping it’s not because your hometown found a new girlfriend and has moved on because this town is the most fucking fickle market around. Oh yeah I’m a bit tarnished yall.

After a few consecutive slow months you begin to lose confidence in how you run your business. You think about that one dish that came out cold on Friday and your mind is asking you “does that happen frequently? Are customers not coming back because food is coming out cold?” So you spend the next three weekends riding shotgun with expo and touching plates to make sure that’s not the issue. Kitchen goes down in flames on a busy brunch shift. “How many folk won’t return after today? We hit 47 minutes on tickets. Is the menu slowing the kitchen down?” So you change the menu out of desperation after a few consecutive shit storms. Now you’ve pissed off some regulars who only came to eat brunch for that specific dish you took off the menu. And you spent $600 on another menu reprint.

I did this for three underperforming restaurants. I also shuffled this shit around for a steakhouse that lost its footing too. I put that restaurant on my shoulders like it was mine for over a decade. I left there because it never was.

If this blog is bringing you down it’s not my intention at all. This is therapy for me when I doubt myself. It’s a mind vomit and oil change for my brain. To get it out and flush the negative shit down the pipes. When I write things down I begin to reckon with it. I learned how to do this when I made a checklist of the things that were slowly killing me and after I wrote them out I began to take them on one by one. This is no different the only change is I’m checking off things that cause my mind to focus on negative points so I can address them. I remember all that I write for some odd reason. Once I document it I start to reckon with it.

What are you going to do with this Gangwer?

No clue..

But

I’m manifesting positivity. Yeah no this blog is not the epitome of positivity but it begins a path for me mentally.

Acknowledgement is the phase one. Manifesting is phase two. Instinct, awareness and patience shall follow (fingers crossed)

Listen

I love the deli. I love the freedom of creativity. I love my customers

I also love my life and it’s taken me a long ass time to reach that without the aid or dependence of my career. Sometimes it tries to stick its toe into my happiness and take it away. That’s what I’m trying to balance without going into self destructive territory. I’m fighting my behavioral patterns. Writing helps regardless of who reads it.

I’m manifesting change in my environment and vibes.

Happy soup if you will.

Turn the burner on and let’s go.

It’s amazing watching your children grow into young adults. It truly is like watching a flower bloom in slow motion although when you look back it moves at the speed of light. My daughter spent the afternoon downtown with her new “friend” for the first time. She asked my permission and in my head I probably said no 100 times but it wasn’t the answer I responded with. I asked her a few not so embarrassing questions and gave her my thumbs up and her mom taxied her downtown. I’m doing my best as a dad to support her happiness but sometimes I have to bite down on some leather to keep my knee jerk responses and reactions. She’s one of the two things I care about the most. We raised her right. I trust her judgement calls it’s just a doozy for me to reckon with.

My energy levels are slowly coming back. It took about a week ish, same as the last three years of work. I made a list of changes the last two months I need to deal with at the deli and it’s time to honor them. It’ll be quite the task.

October 21st was the last time I was “outdoors” and on a scale of 1-10 camping experiences I would’ve given that one a -6. Before that it was pre Helene. Weather and circumstances had created the perfect storm of pooping on my camping trips. It’s mildly frustrating fall is my camping season and I managed to miss it all.

I’m not ravaged by it I’m just frustrated.

That’s all

January is definitely a transitional month for me now that I’ve had time and experience to recognize it.

And appreciate it

It gives me time to think on the upcoming things.

All the things. I have Sedona on my mind with a side of Utah. Last long adventure I did was glacier and the drive wore me down. Honestly though if I go anywhere it’ll probably be Colorado again. I’m in dire need of an adventure that doesn’t involve work.

Great Lakes are on my mind too. Michigan is one of maybe 4 states I haven’t been to? North Dakota, Wisconsin and Alaska would be the others. Washington barely, my front bumper touched into the southern region after I dipped my bike tire in the pacific outside a little town in Oregon in ‘99.

I’ve been wrestling with my camping set up along with my fickleness. I obsess over things when I get excited about them and I have to stew on my decisions for a bit to keep me from acting on my impulses. It also distracts me from what I already have on my plate. The deli suffered a tad while I tried to camp every week. I could do it when I was mobile but now I have more responsibilities that may cause me to linger around the deli on days off. It’s fine as long as I maintain balance. I’m off kilter at the moment so it’s been difficult.

Since my slight obsession with overlanding circa 2019, my camping has evolved over time. I use the term overlander loosely. I’m not an avid off road guy I enjoy the benefits of BLM land and getting the fuck away from everyone. I’ve gone from camping out of the back of my truck to a small bus and then my trailer. I love the trailer but my truck gets about 10 miles to the gallon towing it. That adds an extra $500 to any cross country trip.

Pros – I can park the trailer, unhitch and go about my business wherever I go and not worry about breaking down camp.

Cons- if I choose to relocate it’s about a 45 minute set up and breakdown.

When I do my trips I plan two ways. I set my sights on a hub. A small town or camping area and set up my shelter for about 4-5 days and my adventures and sight seeing stay within that hub. My whole focus is on that area and I explore no further than an hour or two from my zone. I did this in Sedona and Maine and it worked out quite well.

The other option is nomadic, I keep my tent on my truck, pack lighter and hit multiple places overnight. I’ve done this in Colorado a few times and also enjoy it. I’m much more restless in Colorado. I know where the things are and I must see them all. I’ve been to CO around a dozen times and I’ve done about 2% of the things.

Also, I love the freedom of living off a tailgate. It feels like my roots were meant to be there. The summers I spent solo in that little camper in my parents back yard left a forever impression on me.

I don’t hate it

Looking at a ridiculously tall camper top and selling all the rest. I’m taking my time with this decision. It takes me a moment to discern between instinct and impulse. I can tell work has slowed down because I’m starting to dream again.

Dreams are your introduction to manifestations.

For some reason I stopped chasing them for years and I’m trying to catch up now.

Highly recommend this. All manifestation is for me is if you believe in it hard enough you’ll find a way to make it happen.

Im just trying to put my obsessions into good use.

This is my first consecutive two days off in a bit. I’m thankful for the rain because it will hamper my activities for the day and I think it’s needed. Spent some needed time with the fam and we went to the RV show yesterday. I’m not an RV person but I like touring the camper vans and some of the buses are fun to sit in the “cockpit” like a child touring an airplane. To each their own I wouldn’t turn one down that’s for sure.

I’ll stick to my tailgate.

Cheers yall.

Made an attempt to break up with a restaurant this past week. Have you ever dealt with this scenario? It’s become part of your routine, the food is good when it’s right but it’s only right 50% of the time. The other 50% the food isn’t entirely in your bag when you bring it home. It’s a solid day when the food is on point and you get everything you ordered and paid for. It’s just not consistent. I’m all about supporting local but the owners have to give me the vibe that they give a shit and well let’s face it, they don’t.

So in a calm manner I relayed to my wife that I know longer wished to support this establishment. She took it in stride but since this isn’t my first time making this announcement I don’t think she’s taking it seriously.

Not sure if I would too but at that moment it was needed to get that off my chest. I’m more than willing to kick that particular restaurant to the curb. Right now it’s a 50/50 vote and for some reason I feel like I losing that vote.

*puts foot down

*no one hears it

I don’t go out to eat anymore. Or I should say I don’t go into establishments and dine. On occasion I’m expected too. Celebrations, gatherings or just putting on pants to be presentable enough to eat inside. I used to love to go out and eat. That’s how I always received my inspiration for food ideas and atmosphere. I loved the service chatter and professionalism when it mattered. The aromas and textures.

Now

I hear glasses clinking in dish racks, obnoxious loud musak, people talking over people, kids screaming, kitchen utensils clanking, hood rattling. I no longer smell good food. It’s burnt grease and fabuloso. You’re killing your customer’s taste buds with that scented shit all over your walls, floors and tables. The food and service isn’t the same. Owners are trying to save a buck and have cut back on solid ingredients and reputable brands. I get it yall I was right there with you which is why I’m no longer there with you. Service? Don’t get me started. Our food was brought out with sharp auctioning “STEAK?” “FRIES?” “CHICKEN?”. Can’t say anything to that manager it was her that was the auctioneer. Not that I would anyway.

I’m aware all of this makes me a dinosaur and that’s exactly what I am.

But

I’m a Dino with standards

My day yesterday was highlighted by finding my favorite pair of shorts at a Nike outlet. If you’ve seen me in public the last four years I’m most likely wearing running shorts. Its ironic because I don’t really run anymore but I’ve gotten quite attached to this style of shorts. I work in them, travel in them and lounge in them. 5in inseam, black 2 in 1 nike strides.

I bought 3 pair. My others were almost gray from usage and the base layers had holes in them. I just bought another pair online. Nike always discounts what it’s about to stop making so I’m on it. I’d have a 100 of these if I could.

I’ve become very quirky about the clothes I wear. Y’all don’t understand. I used to go out and by a party “outfit” every week. Always a new shirt and I’d buy a new pair of designer jeans every month. At one point I had 42 pairs of jeans.

I now have 5. I only wear one.

Hoodies I’d wear 365. I’ll wear my hoodie until June sometimes. I’ll wear it in my truck and take it off when I get out to pump gas. I don’t know where to allow my hands to rest without hoodie pockets.

My long break from camping has encouraged me to reflect on how I approach it now. I got into truck bed camping around 5 years ago. It was just me and my truck bed with a futon mattress. I had a sleeping bag, pillows and a string of $9 battery operated lights. You didn’t even know I was camping until I popped out of the tailgate.

Simplicity

It had its pros and cons. Set up wasn’t much just getting my food separated from my sleeping quarters and having my book of the month within reaching distance. The camper wasn’t insulated so cold was real cold but it wasn’t terrible in the mountains during summers. It was a tad cramped for long trips and the main reason I upgraded was rainy days weren’t much fun sitting in the back of the truck for half the day.

I wouldn’t mind going back to some of that but with more headroom. I’ve got my eye on something but there’s a lot of moving parts to make it happen or I just sell my trailer and keep my tent nearby in case I need it. I know it’s first world problems. I just want quicker set up, less hassle but also at 53 I don’t like laying down to change my clothes or hitting my head on aluminum every time I want to change positions while sleeping

My daughter turned 15 yesterday. I’m still speechless

I have one more busy day of charcuterie tomorrow before I can really relax. I’m pushing myself for some time off. Your boy is spent. With holidays comes socializing and it exhausts me. It truly does. If all of our entertaining keeps us going to Greer several times in one week I’m just going to move there next time. I enjoy the company. I don’t enjoy the 27 traffic lights to get there.

I’m journaling on my phone even though I now have a shiny new laptop to do this. I was halfway through with this before I realized it. I need to get into the habit of using the computer my phone is about to take a cut in my affection for it. It’s time

I work today on my day off. Hopefully this will be the last time for a bit it’s already caught up to me. My ass is wishing I could drive to Sedona in half a day.

Deli update is taking a break this time. I’m trying to break a routine of writing about the deli because it’s safe and easy and I’m becoming predictable with my words. Practice practice.

That’s about all I got this time around folks. Cheers

I’ve never been a new year new me person. In fact I’ve probably thrown around a few back-handed comments at some of you that base your lifestyle changes on the new upcoming year every year only to have it fall through the cracks before President’s Day.

Resolutionaries as I’d call them

2021 on January 1st, I had made a overnight decision to put the bottle down. The idea hadn’t occurred overnight it had been weighing on my mind for about 4 months. I woke up that morning and thought this would be the ideal date for me to come back to mostly due to it’s symbolism of fresh new number/start/calendar year.

So yeah, I get it. It could be called a resolution. I have never named it a resolution I’ll stick with my word “reckoning” it just fits what my mindset needed. It allows me to take it more seriously.

It was around 4 months in the making but it was the last 6 weeks that pushed me to my own little, personal salvation. I’m always good with the talk. It’s the walk that takes a moment to follow through. I’m an analyzer. Analytics is my strength if it’s my focal point and well, I am by nature my own biggest focal point seeing is I’ve only got one accurate POV to cling to. I’m with this guy 24-7 and I’ve started paying attention to everything he does and asking him (me) why? It’s a simple right of passage I go through now. Accountability as to why I do some of the things I do and the path that brought me here and there. Not a “what makes me tic?” I know how I tic. More of a “what got you here and where are we going next?”

I’m having a difficult time describing this. Also I received a new laptop from Santa to encourage my writing so I don’t journal from my phone and it’s taking me a minute to find my rhythm. I haven’t used a laptop in years. I went a little luddite after Covid and I’m ok with it. In fact soon I’ll be going even more unattached to some technological themes.

If it all falls into place.

I do miss auto correct instead of going back and fixing all the red squiggles that crop up while I peck at my keyboard like a hen.

Anyway

I have been going through this wild and ridiculous transition every year at this time for the last three years. I label the time frame as 6 weeks although it fluncuates a week or two here and there. My business ramps up for the stretch and it becomes a slow moving avalanche that as long as I stay healthy and focused I remain a safe distance from that avalanche then all is well on the coochie front. Sometimes that avalanche gets close enough to feel the snow on your shoulder. That wall of ice touching my cheek. My job is 90% timing. I don’t have a set schedule for the day. I may look at my calendar for the night before and think I can go in at 7am and within half an hour of more orders rolling in it becomes 4am. I’ve said it multiple times this is my harvest season. You can make as many boxes as you want or can. It’s entirely up to you. Every year I try to beat the year before and I do. And it takes a piece of me away for good.

This year it started slowly rolling in mid October and never stopped so my marathon extended a few miles. I usually don’t start my cadence until the second week of November. By November I could feel the ice breathing down my neck, my back.. It’s not with a sense of dread mind you I get myself jacked for it. It’s my time to shine. A point of pride of what I can accomplish.

It’s just a back breaker. It takes me about a week to recover. I’m on day two currently.

We did a fuck ton of charcuterie. I havent counted and probably won’t. It was more than before and then some.

What happens to me during this time frame is I go into work hibernation. My hobbies and resets also go into this status. I focus on charcuterie and nothing else. Christmas shopping is done online in one day after collecting ideas in September. I guess the positive side is it doesn’t allow me to procrastinate anymore. I don’t really see my family until Christmas Eve. I’m around them everyday. I pass them as I walk in the door after my shift, shower, eat and we will catch up in the living room for half an hour and then I go to bed. Jess is in the deli with me four days a week but it’s a blur and it’s all business when we work.

The first week is all about “HERE WE GO!” and by late December the word charcuterie makes me want to drive my car off a bridge.

Currently where I am right now. I have two boxes scheduled today and it will feel like someone is peeling my skin off. Not to worry yall story writing involves hyperbole. I’m grateful for the work I’m just tired and temporarily burned out.

It’ll pass it always does until it doesn’t.

What happens during this time is I sort of go into a meditative state and routine. My daily habits and rituals get pushed aside which takes me out of my comfort zone. I don’t get my daily walks or hikes, workouts, camping or my home toiling that keeps my mind going. It’s all work, no play, no habits.

It’s not a healthy lifestyle. It almost feels like a short annual prison term. 6 weeks (10 this year) of hard labor. One difference is I don’t have a bullet proof window or bars separating me from society. Just a yellow oak counter. I have a love/hate with it at the moment.

Love the cash.

Hate the crash.

But

BUT

Every year, each time, each post holiday I come out a different person on the other side.

Imagine an annual cycle of you getting your ass kicked on the regular, body beat to shit, high anxiety, under nourished, sleep deprived and unrelenting stress. There is no hyperbole in this statement this time. This is real. It’s wash, rinse and spin cycle without being taken out to dry.

But when I finally come out to dry it’s like breaking out of a mental cocoon. I’m no fucking butterfly by any means but it does change me every year. Sometimes and often times it’s my perspective on things. Sometimes it’s physical but always mental.

Charcuterie boot camp

Hell week volume 6 to 8

I come real close to either giving in or quitting but I don’t. Boy do I want to.

When I get into this time of year I don’t see food I see shapes. I see triangles, circles, angles, arcs, radius.

Food geometry.

High volume jigsaws

I’m building boxes and boards but my mind is elsewhere. Half the time if you’re talking to me I’m responding in trancey sentence fragments. I’m a thousand miles away. Some days I’m looking backwards. I’m sitting on my tailgate somewhere to help me take my mind off my back. I’m sipping coffee in my camping chair overlooking the gorge. I’m wrapped up in a blanket next to a campfire.

Other times I’m in my head thinking about tomorrow and that’s when I dream and manifest.

Assembly doesn’t require much thought once muscle memory kicks in. This is why I get selective on custom orders. Boxes take no thought anymore. Volume takes over.

This is also when I get in my head. When I’m tired and vulnerable. My interior dialogue gets raw. There’s no distractions when you’re tired. I mean real fucking tired. I’m not talking about sitting down on your sofa after work and channel surfing because you’re too tired to focus on 30 minutes of subject matter. I’m hyper focused in my own thoughts. This is probably why when my deli phone rings I flinch like someone swung at me. It breaks me out of my little trance.

I become analytical. I’m in a zone of self evaluation. I breakdown the filing cabinets in my mind, open the tabs and lay out all my folders in front of me.

Manifesting

Sometimes I’m fantasizing about a new camping adventure to take my mind off of the tasks at hand. Other times I’m planning my ideas like seeds for post holidays. Charcuterie has been great! The deli side took a dive while I dealt with it. Time to balance again.

Often times though I’m tearing myself down piece by piece. In my head I’m addressing shortcomings, mental conflict or bad habits I’ve accumulated over time. This is when food becomes shapes to me. I’m no longer focused on the actual task. Muscle memory takes over and I’m somewhere else in my mind. I seem to always be somewhere else when I work nowadays. If I’m interrupted during my cadence I’ll stop and just stare at my boxes at hand for a minute or two. It takes my brain a moment to wind back up to where I was before. It’s almost like stoic meditation. I go there to cancel out the exhaustion and old body aches and pains.

It’s hard to describe without sounding a little dramatic and yeah I know better than anyone else I have the tendency to lean that way it’s just how I’m wired

But

I get put through the fucking tree chipper and when I come out the other side I feel like a completely different person.

Every year (for the last three) I experience a shift in my thinking. Almost like a post grad course I just completed. There’s no specific subject matter involved, no light bulb or interjection of EUREKA! By Jove I think I’ve got it!

I come out of that exhausted work cocoon on December 24th and slowly over the progression of a few weeks I begin to notice different thought patterns from before, perspectives, habits and lifestyle changes.

Resolution from being stripped down bare for a few weeks?

Breaking my regular thought patterns to cause me to alter my interior dialogue?

New habits can form by going out of your comfort zone. I lose a few and gain a few after this tribulation. When you are inside your head long enough you get to ask yourself all sorts of questions. Really uncomfortable ones. I do this a lot and then I try to reckon with them.

I used to discard them.

I don’t have to write them down they’re in my head 16 hours a day when I’m in this realm. A mental dissertation.

I’ve heard of rehabs where they strip you down of all your belongings, outside communications, habits. They keep you in silent seclusion some places not even allowing you to speak. I felt this on the free range side. When I come out the other side generally I’m about 5-10 lbs lighter, weak and a tad malnourished. Just an example on my random days of rest I’ll eat from the moment I get up to the moment I go to bed. My body is trying to regain what it’s lost over the last month.

It leaves you feeling bare and empty.

But

It gives you an opportunity to refill, restock and rethink.

It’s like an annual mental oil change. Do I recommend it? I’m not entirely sure because I sure as fuck don’t like the process and terms. There’s no door to walk into or waiting room to fill out paperwork beforehand. One day you’re working and look at your schedule and your brain says “ok.. here we go” and then 6-8 weeks of your life are about to be whisked.

There isn’t hyperbole in that statement.

How is this beneficial it sounds miserable?

Let me tell you

It is

But

In retrospect this was exactly what I needed to answer and deal with my alcoholism. I wanted to stop drinking for years I just didn’t have the strength, the commitment. It terrified me. I had tried a few times and fell short embarrassingly quick each try.

My first holiday was fairly busy as was my second. It wasn’t until the second one that I got a full taste of charcuterie boot camp. 2021 I was in my feels about my drinking it had ramped up to championship level. While I had it in my mind that summer that I needed to quit it was the reckoning in my head during the holidays that secured it. Add to the environment that my work space at the time was a small 10 ish by 10 ish kitchen with no windows or even ventilation where I did my time for 60-70 hours a week. It messes with your mind when you’re knee deep in high volume and anxiety all the while feeling like you’re on a deserted island.

I had zero distractions to deal with my crumbling mental health. I do not recommend this for everyone. I’m not sure breaking yourself down while in solitary confinement is the best way to accomplish something. But it worked for me. At the end of that 6 week trial my interior dialogue “if you can get through this then why can’t you do the same with drinking?” And I said fine! I’ll try it.

1091 days later I have zero regrets

There was a little more involved than that but I’ve gone over that story quite a few times.

These 6-8 weeks weaken my resolve to the point of almost tears. I come out limping. I don’t wake Christmas Day with the hallelujah chorus playing in the background. I can barely recall my last three. It’s fuzzy. It may take a week or two to restart my computer but it comes around and I feel the changes in me. My mind is manifesting while I go through this process and I don’t even realize it.

“How can I improve my mind?

My body?

My soul?”

I come out the other side and perspectives change.

Gratitude

Relief

Mental strength

It makes sense to me now when my mind wants to dilly dally with new ideas and habits this time of year. I’ve been hyper focused on it subliminally. Your brain slowly starts to move in another direction.

It sees new scenarios on the horizon.

Exhaustive clarity

It changes your channel surfing

I’m doing my best to describe something that I’m just now discovering so if it seems like I’m all over the place it’s because I am all over the place..

Some fantasy took over this time. A change in direction of how I do certain things and what occupies my time and mind. It gives me a vague blueprint of what could be next if I take the time to manifest it. Last year the journey took me to build Graze. At the end of my season I rolled out of the Meadery with the thought of “this time next year I’ll have my own spot come hell or high water”

Manifestation

What’s next? Welp I can’t say yet it takes a little bit to wrap my head around my visions they aren’t exactly scripted.

But

It’s gettin there I can already feel some enlightenment in my instincts. You can exercise your instincts just as easy as you can do sit-ups once you know how to read yourself.

This isn’t to conclude that in 2025 my whole ass life will change. It may just do that but it’s not the requirement nor the quest. It’s only awareness that I have the ability to manifest improvement, balance and change at my fingertips.

I’m tired. I’m beat and have zero focus on anything but food and rest at the moment. My deli will be on autopilot for a few days while I reckon with my mind and physical health.

Prioritizing

And then

Manifesting into the new year

Cheers to 2025.

“I think I have about one year of this left in me”

I wrote that a year ago today. I didn’t have to look at my memories to know when I was in the headspace because it has become an annual interjection in my mind.

By this time of the holidays I’ve slowly acclimated to the high volume and long hours of “charcuterie season”. Although my busiest day is still 24 hours away I’ve bitten and swallowed the biggest pieces of the season. Christmas Eve is busy maybe the busiest but I have the right people in place to make it run as smooth as possible. Three veterans with four years under their belts we could do an additional 20 boxes if we had to but I prefer slow and steady wins the race. Also I have no clue as to what the deli side will do.

This season like the last three kicked my ass and is still currently doing so. You won’t hear me complain about my deli being busy I’ll always be grateful

My body on the other hand..

I wrote that last year after an exhausting day and I was frustrated and burned out.

Burned out on chadcuterie

Burned out on service industry

Burned out on toiling

It was today a year ago I mentally pulled the trigger on the deli. I had looked at some properties online for shits and giggles in the past but it was this moment I had told myself to shit or get off the pot.

Had I not opened the deli this would’ve been my last week/year of meats and cheese arts. I opened the deli to end the monotony of the assembly line career I had created. I found out after a couple of years that working on an assembly line was slow torture for me. And still is.

It was affecting my mental health along with working alone I was becoming a social recluse.

I was not doing well in my head. Keep in mind when I say these things they are not always meant to seem over the top or radical. I just wasn’t happy with my situation. I worked frustrated and sad. I’ve made it a point to eradicate these things when they pop up on my timeline. The whole “that’s life” philosophy is no longer apart of my thinking path. If I’m capable of changing it I will make every effort to and I did.

I love my deli. It’s an extension of me. I love the folk who work for me and the ones who support it.

I needed to do this to prove something to myself.

And I have

I wanted to open a business completely financed by yours truly and have the capacity of paying myself back within the first calendar year. We seem to be heading that way in shorter time (fingers crossed)

But

I doubt you’ll see me doing this for the long term.

What’s the long term?

Timeline?

What next?

Million dollar questions

All of them

Pipe dream, I’m writing travel journals off the back of my tailgate with a fun camera and a smile on my face

Maybe I’ll have relocated my business and expanded

Maybe the exact opposite. I like my space. Parking could be better but the rent is just right. A three year lease is not a long time though and commitment is a four letter word to me now.

Tethered is a term I used a lot without even realizing it

But so is manifesting

It’s intriguing to watch how your mindset changes as you get older. I’m not focused on accounts in fact I’m close to closing quite a few for my next reckoning. So many things out there to seen and I can’t seem to put my phone away to enjoy them.

Digital toxicity

I’ve said it before. Your perspective changes when that hourglass gets turned upside down. The sand moves faster. Your rainy days shrink into the fabric of what time you have left.

I know this current career takes two months out of my year completely away from me. November and December is just work and nothing else.

17% of my year.

It’s also about 30% of my yearly income.

What’s your time worth to you?

53 years and I haven’t found that answer but I know that every time I try to another grain of sand has deposited itself into that hourglass.

A grain I’ll never get back.

Tethered

You follow your heart and stomach more when you get older because you begin to trust your instincts more. We all have a thousand “should’ve gone with my instincts” moments that we look back on. If you pay close attention to them sometimes you learn a thing or two.

That’s where I am

I’m on my time and no one else’s

I post that ridiculous camper online not to get anyone to actually buy it for me. It’s my fun dangling carrot dangler.

I like to dream. I doubt I’ll ever own something like that unless someone tells me I can’t.

I ain’t seen a sunrise in a month and it’s been on my mind.

The old me would say “that’s life slick”

The other side stands up and says “look at that hourglass”

Tik

Tok

Drip

Drop.

I guess I wasn’t thinking about it as I was looking at my memories this morning. I know exactly when I launched my charcuterie “side job” I was there for god sake. I wasn’t focused on the date today. Most of the time I can’t tell you what the date is unless I’m scheduling something on my box order calendar. I saw an old post from four years ago in my Facebook memories, had a quick smile and then got a little emotional.

I don’t go into much detail of how I pulled this concept off of friend’s random IG story but that’s literally how I came up with the idea. It certainly wasn’t something I fabricated out of thin air. The emotions are hard to describe because during this time I was sitting in the bottom of a bottle of vodka.

At the very bottom.

I was sitting on my sofa on a Thursday night I can’t tell you why I remember the exact day of the week and not the calendar date maybe there was a TV show on that triggered that memory. Whatever was on the tube (guess that’s not accurate anymore) I wasn’t paying attention to it as per the norm I’m sure I had a rocks glass in my hand and my phone in the other. I was senselessly scrolling through some IG stories and stopped on one that caught my eye. A friend of mine who lived in Charlotte at the time posted a clear plastic box with some charcuterie displayed inside. I can still recall every item, shape, color and it’s place in this box because I studied it for about 15 minutes. Half drunk and thoroughly medicated, I stared at this box and its inventory.

At this time in my culinary career I had made a few last minute charcuterie boards for Southern for private parties and even had a meat and cheese board on the menu that I yanked off after two months of futility. It looked terrible and it shut the kitchen line down every time someone ordered one. It wasn’t in my wheel house and to be honest I hated the trend with a passion. I wasn’t very familiar with it and as I am with most things like that if it takes me out of my comfort zone it can go fuck itself and that’s what it did.

My departure from my old company was no secret. My dislike for how my hands were tied during Covid is also very obvious. We’ve talked this into the ground but haven’t really touched base on why this particular concept struck my fancy.

2020 I still wanted to own a restaurant/bar/dive. I had not reckoned with a few things in my life that were slowly killing my mental and physical health. I had my passion ripped away from me and it took a while to harness that energy into something a little more positive and a little less toxic.

I screenshot that IG story and in my head I said “let’s revisit it tomorrow and see what we think when we’re sober”

But

Before I left that chat I opened up my little Typorama app I used to create Hab and had some fun my vodka and photoshop. The name Chadcuterie was a no brainer. I had already branded “The Bearded Gang” months before because I saw my partnership nearing its expiration date so I combined that particular brand with the word charcuterie and in ten minutes we had Chadcuterie with the clipart beard and sunglasses. I photoshopped that on a board image I copied online and bam we had a new drunken concept.

Thanks Babe and Butcher in Charlotte for the solid inspiration. I wasn’t sold on it immediately mind you I still disliked charcuterie. Hell at this time I was pronouncing it “charcutree” and pile that on top of losing all of your self confidence the same calendar year it was daunting

I liked the idea of the concept but I didn’t think I had the passion to pull it off.

But

I kept it on my phone and stared at it every day while I was unemployed.

The next week I once again came across another friend’s IG story. She was in Oregon with her husband and had posted a story of a slice of Brie brûléed in a pizza box. It had a side of honey in plastic cup and a few slices of salami. The pic wasn’t that appealing but I liked the idea of taking something that can come across as high falootin and making it more approachable.

The name of the place was Cheese and Crack Snack Shop.

I give these two concepts the biggest shoutouts for my inspiration.

I started obsessively looking at charcuterie boards online. All the foldings, fruit origami and mise en place like I was studying for my final exam. I downloaded tiktok just to watch people make charcuterie boards. I went to World Market and bought two charcuterie boards to practice on. I had a good working relationship with Boars Head and reached out to them to order a small inventory of their charcuterie items. I couldn’t get a delivery to my house so I asked my old company to allow my orders to come into Habitap and I’d write them a check. They happily obliged.

Boars Head brought me what I ordered along with about $200 of free samples to check out. I would later use all of those samples in my boxes when I got slapped with a high volume day in the upcoming weeks. If I screwed the pooch on an order they would bring me what I needed to my old restaurant even if it was just one chub of salami. They still do it to this day. With a smile on their face. This is why I still sing the praises of Boars Head. While all my other purveyors turned their noses up at me when my purchasing dropped dramatically Boars Head has always been in my corner. And their product is amazing.

I’m loyal too a fault. That will never change.

I made my first solo charcuterie board for Friendsgiving at our house. It took me 3 hours to make a 16in round board. I thought it looked tight and made sure I placed that fucker right in the middle of our dining room table for all to eat and enjoy. That table would turn into a prep table the following week.

By this time I had shared my thoughts and ideas with Jess and as always she supported it. When I told her I wanted to launch this in a week she gave me a look that said “let’s take it slow” but she knows me and I don’t know how to do those things. She helped create my website and order guide that week and with a patient smile she got front row seats to my 1001 charcuterie ideas and thoughts.

I had to create a menu. I have no problem admitting that I didn’t know shit about charcuterie. I had salami and pepperoni in my terminology wheelhouse and about three cheeses one of them being American cheese. I literally googled charcuterie meats and matched them with Boar’s order guide. The rest I bought from my fav go to Restaurant Depot.

We bought a $300 slicer from Cabellas, vitamix and a printer. I bought some pizza boxes on Amazon. I spent an initial $300 on food inventory and added the free samples from Boars to get me going. Next up I bought a dorm fridge to keep my shit cold. I had an old prep table I took home with me from LTO and set up my “station”. Last but not least I ordered a rubber stamp with my likeness on it from Etsy and a $60 ink pad. I still have both of those at my deli. The stamp is broken in two pieces. The pad is beat to shit. These two items are very precious to me now.

I wrote a menu with 5 boxes on it

Happy Box

Ladies Night

Dude, Where’s my Box

Gangwer Grazer

And a fruit and cheese box.

I made exactly one of each and launched my charcuterie business.

I was in a hurry and I was broke.

I added delivery to get more availability for orders. I had originally 10 miles as my delivery radius. It dropped to 5 after the first day. I think we opened up box orders for December 6th and I made around 8 grazers. It took me 6 hours to make them and 4 of them were for delivery. All the way out to Greer. The first day was ugly. I did nothing for logistics other than order the inventory and hope for the best. The boards looked terrible. I was consistently behind on orders and I was stressing out my wife with my disorganization. Also when I first launched chadcuterie we were wrapping up the boxes in butcher paper and twine. So basically gift wrapping every order.

My first multiple order day were 6 happy boxes to be delivered to my old middle school. We had flubbed the order and I had to rush home last minute to make them. It wasn’t my best showing and they responded in kind. They were a little vicious about the box mix up and I had no choice but to refund their money. It was a little trigger moment for me and charcuterie came real close to closing down good that day. Two weeks after my launch. I take full blame for that moment but man im still a little bitter over how they responded.

I’d make boxes out of our house. I was making homemade flatbread crackers at the time. Our gas oven’s door was loose so we would push a chair under the handle to keep it closed to bake. Heavy inventory days I’d put all the perishables in my truck at night to stay cold. I didn’t have the money or room to buy another refrigerator. We’d hide the trash cans in the back yard when they were filled with empty clamshells of grapes and Costco boxes. My yard turned into mud from people pulling up to get boxes and having to turn around in the front of the house. Sometimes I’d have to direct traffic.

Christmas Eve was a big day. I don’t know how many we sold or what our sales were but it was little crazy. I had about 6 people helping us out. Some of us working in pajamas. We’d wrap up the boxes and had four quadrants of delivery areas that my friends helped deliver to. It was chaos but we held it together and it went as smooth as possible. The last stack of boxes my wife and I would split up and meet out for a stiff drink when we were done. On the crazier nights I’d have to come right back home and clean up. Imagine what your home kitchen might look like after slinging 40 charcuterie boxes. I’d take bags of trash to gas station dumpsters. I’d cross my fingers for a cold night so I wouldn’t have to throw my own personal groceries away to stuff work inventory in its place.

That month was one for the books. It was a tad rough. I had zero intention of doing charcuterie the following year. I still had restaurants on my mind.

I was a drunk then. I still had a ways to go to figure out my next million and a half steps.

I would later recieve an invitation to collaborate with my friends at Birds. It made my business much more accessible and gave me a legit kitchen to work out of. Even then it wasn’t meant to last I figured we’d play around with each other for a few months and every time I started thinking about another adventure I got a full week of orders in. And then more and more and next thing I knew people were asking me to do grazing tables and caterings. My brand grew as did my craft. I started getting regulars who reached out to me on a regular basis and well charcuterie was paying the bills and I wasn’t working 70 hours a week to make it.

I stayed at Birds until the end. Two years in that little kitchen they allowed me to do my own thing and I’ll always be grateful. It helped build my brand. The Meadery picked up right where they left off but by then I was getting worn down being in a mobile status. I had already made up my mind to become independent and the Meadery stayed extremely flexible with my needs. I’m very grateful for both of them. I wouldn’t have Graze without their support.

A lot has changed in these four years. The biggest being my lifestyle. We’ve talked about this before.

Jess has stood by the whole time, responding to emails, organizing my tendencies, social media, keeping me on a leash. When I say my business wouldn’t succeed without her it’s no exaggeration. I’ve wanted to quit a hundred times but she refuses. She’s just as much a part of this as I am.

Her face just won’t fit on the charcuterie stamp.

Extremely grateful for all we’ve had and accomplished. Not sure where we will be in the next four but man what a fucking ride so far .

Cheers

Writing is similar to running for me. When I used to run it was my escape from the work stress, toxic environments, the humming of those fucking ticket printers. I ran to escape those daily tetherings and chaos. My knees and hips have frowned upon those days so I’ve lessened the body aches with walking instead. You burn the same amount of calories it just takes a tad longer and that’s ok. I’ve spent the last three years of my life slowing things down.

Fact check

It’s actually 4 years now. In three days the coochie business turns 4. I’m reminded of this from my little charcuterie boards posts in my fb memories. Thankful for those of you that bought that first month of boxes. They were nothing to brag on but Greenville is always there to support for the most part.

Writing eases my mind. It helps me settle in for the day and my knees are happy they aren’t getting bounced on like an old mattress from running up and down Altamont rd all those years.

It’s my busy season so I don’t get the opportunity to write as often. I always seemed to get shellacked this time of year regardless of vocational choice.

I’m programmed for it I suppose.

Thanksgiving used to be my big hangover day. Man my nights on Wednesday before the turkey feast were legendary. I’d hit every single bar worthy of mention. We would rage all night. I’d show up at my mom’s with my share of food and help set up for the annual feast. Bleary eyed and bloated

I went to bed at 8:30 last night. Headphones buzzing with Prine singing me lullabies.

No feasts today. My parents are all long gone and they were the glue to the annual ceremony. It’ll be a party of three today.

It’s intimate but I miss the gatherings. I no longer have the zest to fuel a feast for all the branches of my family. It’s the longest work day of the year for me. I can barely hold a knife in my hands from the carpel tunnel aches from the day before. My passion for cooking is sitting in a moldy ragged out chef roll up in my garage. All of my knife blisters are weathered swollen but at least my face no longer reflects that part.

Yesterday was hard but it was the easiest one we’ve had in the four years. We were prepared.

I don’t mind working at 4am. The traffic is better

This is my harvest time. From this past week til January 1st I’ll sling around 400 plus boxes. I’ll make a few grazing tables, plop some charcuterie on boards mimicking Christmas trees, make some wreaths with skewers all kinds of shit man. It’ll help out for the months that don’t do well (I’m talkin bout you January and August) it’ll bring new faces to my deli in hopes of getting them back for sandwiches and things because it takes more than just charcuterie to pay the bills now.

I’d be interested to see what the world record for most linear feet of charcuterie is if there is such a random accomplishment I’m up there somewhere. Also I won some sort of charcuterie award but I can’t say anything until after it’s announced. I’ll have a nice shiny plaque in my possession. Hell I may put it next to my other ones. People give some others a hard time for the “Best in the Upstate” awards from years past. I always enjoyed the process. I love how my daughter doted on my plaques and awards and would tell everyone her dad won Best Chef in the upstate. It meant a lot to me. For someone who never had a trophy or ribbon sitting on their parent’s mantle I made the most of it.

Nope we never paid a dime for advertising. Anyone that knows my cheap ass would auto assume that I sure as hell wouldn’t pay for an award. The ones that never won were always the most outspoken about it.

Popularity contest? Well duh. In this biz you take all you can get.

I’m constantly adding more to the deli. I’m a tweaker this is what I do. Not these 2 months though I only maintain to keep the boxes churning.

I write to keep my mind moving and observing. I write in hopes that this gives me another outlet as I get older. I can’t fathom making 40 boxes of charcuterie in my 60s. It’s hard to describe the amount of work and detail it takes to do high volume charcuterie. We had around 75 boxes yesterday. I have one extra who’s been trained to do one specific style box for me the last three years. He’s done enough by now that you can’t tell the difference between his and mine. I can only because our styles are a tad different. I plant him at a table with an assistant and tell him “yall have 31 of these to make today.I’ll help out once I finish my stack” We knocked them out. I made 6 of them towards the end and I made some sammies in between when we had a little pop.

Every year I keep waiting for my body to tell me I can’t do this anymore. Or not as much. Every year I get a little more stubborn and tell myself I can take on a lot more. One day they will collide. It’s the only way I learn a lesson.

I’ve been sitting on my sofa the last two hours massaging my hands and wrists. Other than a long walk I won’t do much today. I acknowledge when I need rest. Of If I get sick during the holidays my sick pay is terrible. My benefits are poop. You don’t want to get sick during harvest.

I have a general rule to avoid the general public this time of year. Honestly it’s all year nowadays. I stayed into seclusion for almost 3 years and the first week I came out of my hole I caught covid. Welcome back Chad. I write this with one nostril struggling for passage. Don’t fuck with me I don’t have the time for you just now.

I’ll listen to Prine again when I walk today. Why would I not?

I’m planning road trips in my head. They take my mind off the toiling it takes to make them happen. I rewarding myself with some new tires and suspension for my truck. 8 flats in 16 months it was time. The price you pay for the longing of outdoor adventure. Feels better than replacing a cooler. I’d buy new tires every year if I had to. My wife wouldn’t care for that though.

Today will be a small collection of food and rest. No large gatherings of family. I’m not sure there ever will be anymore of those unless I’m still around for my daughter to host them on her own. Her socializing resembles mine on many levels so we may not. I had thought of hosting something at Graze but those Southern gatherings were exhausting. I always overdo it and I need a break from 219 w Antrim drive today. It’s a solid decision to stay home and rest.

A healthy choice.

Friday starts round 2. of the charcuterie show. Would like the deli side to get a little more notice I’d rather not carry the whole deli with charcuterie.

Balance

Ain’t found it yet but there are worse things to ponder.

My camping for the year pretty much ended the day the hurricane hit. I’ve made peace with it somewhat. I have gone once since the hurricane and attempted three other times and things just didn’t go my way. The circumstances have been a little all over the place, trailer breaks down, random road closures and seasonal closings. I was pushing myself to get outdoors and in all honesty it was putting a strain on my mental health. It almost felt like an obligation. I use nature as my escape from the old me. I referring to my habits not my personality. It took some time for me to mentally separate the two as I’ve always thought they were inclusive.

I’ve flipped my life upside down to avoid some patterns that I’ve carried around with me over time.

Work used to consume me and my personality. I’ve always been a company guy throwing myself into every situation, position, solution to keep the company in ship shape.

“Ill relax when I retire”. That carrot I chased has shriveled into a dried up vegetable carcass. My retirement party would be celebrated over my grave. Maybe a breeze will blow out my candles.

I put a lot of time and effort into my camping. It reflects my passion. My side of the kitchen is a cornucopia of mass ADHD and burnout. I know exactly where everything is but there’s no motive or consistency. It reflects my burnout.

My truck is uniformed. I have it organized and everything filed in it’s mise en place. I have backups of backups and my blankets and bed made.

My kitchen while it is clean, sanitized and appropriately functional, my mind is all over the place. I opened this deli out of necessity. It’s hard to explain without sounding dreadful but i didn’t sign the lease with a big shit eating grin on my face. I wasn’t applauding when they handed me the keys.

I sighed and thought to myself “let’s make this one different. You’ve changed. You’re older and your passion battery is only at about 30%.”

“Don’t overdo it”

I really enjoy this deli. It’s a reflection of me.

But man I’m just tired.

I’ve gotten allergic to stress. I hate how prevalent the term PTSD has become but man I’m a walking dissertation on service industry PTSD. If it’s busy I get overstimulated. If it’s painstakingly slow my mind goes straight to doomsday. I have to lock myself in the bathroom for a pep talk. This is no exaggeration. I’ve had to trim my fingernails to keep them from digging into my palms. I observe a lot of hard working friends on social media chase that dream and the only thing I can say to all of you is don’t dive too deep.

Success is immeasurable and sometimes miss understood. Take time to rest. There’s a see saw of sacrifice and longing. Rarely do you get to let your feet dangle it seems your ass is always dragging on the low side.

Again I love the deli. I just hate the dance it takes to keep it flowing.

I’ve mentally prepared myself for the holidays. I know from this week until January I go into robot mode, put my head down and stand on the assembly line to make boxes. 60 hour work weeks, 4am check in times and going to bed exhausted at 8pm. I’m good for it. I keep my body decently maintained for the long haul but you can’t beat Father Time. Every year it gets a tad harder.

When that hour glass gets flipped upside down it changes your perspective.

I had a PTSD moment yesterday. The holidays get to me. I’m way behind on my resets as you can tell and it’s getting in my head. I write to get it out. If this comes out as whiny it’s because that’s exactly how I’m feeling. I’ve worked long hours for a long time.

I’ve earned the whine. Big tall fucking glass of it.

I retired that savage idiot who would jump on top of prep tables and give 15 minute long pre shifts.

I’m soft now because I want to be. The idiot savage is still there he knocks on my goddamn door every day. I take early morning walks to reckon with him. I prefer yoga over weights now. Walking over running. Life feels better at a slower pace I just need for the escalator to calm the fuck down.

One day I will find a way to make a living off the back of my tailgate. And no that doesn’t mean a food truck.

I get a kick out of the term clopen. I do this shit everyday.

My brain is already prepared for no campfires for the next month or so. No coffee sunrises. I watch camping reels online to keep my eyes on the prize.

Don’t let this give you the wrong vibe. I’m extremely grateful and excited for the work this year. I love the holidays. I love spending Christmas with my friends and family. I’m not depressed. Or at least it’s under control. I write to release so that’s what the fuck I’m doing.

It’s therapeutic. In my mind I want to change some of my camping habits I want simplicity again. I love the trailer but it’s a little too much. It was meant for the whole family and not for everyone has the camping bug like I do.

I get it and my schedule is always the opposite as per the norm.

I keep looking at campers but yall love to mark those things up. My old ass longs for a heat source when I camp at night. I love winter camping but my bones don’t like 30° anymore. It takes a minute for the bones and joints to lube up.

I’ll figure it out.

A hot coffee and my favorite blanket on a tailgate would fix some of this blah right now.

Cheers

One day I’ll figure out how to make a living with my feet dangling off my tailgate

Consultation, creative writing I don’t care what it is. My soul belongs there.

I hate the feeling of being tethered.

Listen I’ve got all my pride in that deli. All my creativity, all my passion but my heart is divided. Body doesn’t retain the fluid motions of rotating, bending, pushing sales. This industry is feast or famine. It keeps you on your toes and my toes are tired from putting all my weight on them.

How would you review your life if it was recorded like your car’s maintenance?

A human fax

-Oil changes

-Alignment

-Tire rotations

-Trade in value

I’m at 200,000 miles plus. That’s work mileage. The miles I went through working doubles, meetings, traveling when I used to.

Got my first oil change at 50.

And alignment

I waited too long for maintenance.

I don’t want to calculate the hours I spent hustling for work. It would surpass any other sum of activities in my span of life.

“What about sleep?” Yep! I average about 6 hours. A six hour work day sounds delightful.

I had my daughter at the deli two weeks ago. She was relaxing in the office. We had a good crowd. Someone mentioned I should make her come and and work and I replied “she’ll have more than enough time to do that when she’s an adult.” I’m gojng to allow my child to enjoy her youth as long as she can. School has her from 8-3:30. Homework consumes the next two or three hours. She’s in honors. She’s bright but I can already see the stress of juggling honors and her social life.

I’m not raising my kid to be a worker bee and I sure as fuck don’t want her to spend the majority of her life working as life speeds by.

Also

Try minding your business. We all have our own to reckon with.

I have my good thoughts and bads with Graze. They duel daily.

Overall it’s a big part of me. The good parts at least.

I’m having difficulty separating from the Covid, two back injuries, listeria bullshit, hurricane and power outage. Somedays I walk in and we have a solid day. I don’t even think about it. Others I’m bracing for “what’s next?”

It makes me restless. Restless = menu changes. I’m still seeking identity but the sky is clearing a little. That’s a good thing.

Listen

Don’t get me wrong. I love this deli. And I’m very passionate about it.

But

I love to ramble too. My rambling days are shrinking by the day.

Sorry yall I didn’t get my reset yesterday.

This could be considered a byproduct.

I’m just daydreaming folks. My mind has been in worse shape. I’m better at handling the tides than I used to be.

But

In the back of my mind I’m on my tailgate. That’s one thing I’ll try to instill into my child.

Buy a truck. So many practical uses.

It’s almost cool enough to head south and prop my feet up to a beach sunrise. That’s what’s on my mind along side about a half dozen sandwich ideas

Balance