Bearded Gang

This week has been an odd one. Ups and downs neither one topping the other I suppose it evened out to an ebb and flow tie at the end of the week. Maybe that’s how the score is supposed to rest at times.

Leveled out.

The market crashed at the deli. In the literal sense my shelving took a fall the other day shattering all of my market inventory along with some Lego trophies my wife made and some fake plants. I had some chili flake oil and hot honey that didn’t want to leave my concrete floor without some extra elbow grease. The market never took off from day one. The stock was gaining dust. I guess this was the encouragement I needed to get rid of it.

Could’ve been a little less dramatic about it.

Charcuterie side was busy this week. Sold out my little skeletons and exceeded my expectations for box sales.

Ebb- shelving going for a high dive

Flow- sold out of charcuterie Friday

Ride the wave and dust yourself off.

If this is the beginning of charcuterie season it was quite the launch. I’ll watch my one assistant that helps me with boxes on high volume days and he’s already feeling it. Buddy you have no idea..

We’ve only just begun 🎶

Sold my trailer on Thursday. My ideal situation was supposed to be sell all attached to it but the buyer only wanted the trailer. That actually worked out in my favor. I still have my complete camping set up on my truck until I decide to change my set up. The trailer was the main piece I wanted to change out. Keeping my awning and fingers crossed it works with my next set up.

Next set up I stewed on for a bit. My wet dream was a Kimbo camper. My dream part was to find one used for a great price. Brand new they can reach over $30k and there was no scenario of me purchasing one at that price. I can’t swallow that much money for something that sits on my truck. To each their own plus the wear and tear for 980 lbs sitting on top of something that allows up to 1000 lb payload is too close for comfort for me. Air bag shocks would add more cost. Love the look, love the setup. It’s too much on too many levels.

I’m about 90% commited to a more simpler style of camping. Found a camper top company in Colorado that makes a large lightweight shell with overhead bulk storage. Bed/couch setup is what sold me. I just want a camper top I can sit up in like a regular bipedal humanoid without my head bumping into an aluminum ceiling and put my feet up. Wind won’t blow me around or I have to jump into the cab of my truck if there is lightning about. A portal for a diesel heater and insulation for the cold winter nights. My bones don’t care for 25° nights. Small local business with what looks like a close knit group of guys working well together. That’s my kind of brand.

My boy math is to buy things I enjoy that hold their value as long as you take care of them and then sell them when you’re ready. I call them hobby investments. Not really an investment as far as your money return but I sold my trailer for close to the same price as I bought it after three years ago. Minus shipping and assembly that is. She’s been to New England, Arizona and Utah twice. Multiple trips to the coast and half a hundred times to the mountains. I got my money’s worth. I give that trailer a 9/10. My only regret is my gas mileage pulling it and it did hinder some tight camping spots. I’m excited about my new set up.

I’m trying to discard the word “tired” from my vocabulary. I feel the overuse of it in my head only encourages the vibe it brings. I found myself using it quite a bit this week. Still working on it. Maybe I’ll find a new word or term to express it more positively.

Well used

Comfortably extinguished

Delightfully deflated

My weekend is approaching, it may be a refuel/rest day or I might try to lower my body temperature in the mountains. Rain may damper that adventure. The urge to drive may also.

Time change tomorrow. I’m happy to see the sunrise before 7:40 again. Night time at 6pm doesn’t bother me like it used to. I’ve slowly become a fall/winter person I often wonder if it’s because my tenure of life replicates. I’m more comfortable in soft fluffy clothing. Heat sources, foggy breath in the morning. What I don’t like is my glasses fogging up from the humidity, mosquitoes dining on my ankles, mother nature’s magnifying glass sun piercing my uncovered scalp.

I’m in my zone.

My heart is dancing to a November tune.

It’s Sunday morning. My weekend. I normally have a Sunday morning routine I observe although it’s not intentionally a ritualistic process but over time like most things I do it has become one.

Wake up and immediately shower

Stretch my joints with a little yoga

Make my cup of coffee

Sit in my sofa spot, put my headphones on and pick a hertz to vibe to.

Check all the medias and plan out my day

Everyday of the week is similar to this routine the only thing that makes Sunday different is I have no watch to watch. I don’t concern myself with deadlines it’s my first day off and it’s meant to reset. Today I chose to reset my reset differently. I’m going through a rewiring phase.

I’m changing the way I think and react to things.

My approach to daily living.

A fresh new coat of paint for my personality

I stood outside bare foot and stretched under the stars, no music, no coffee. Allowed the cold grass to wake me up. Grounding, star gazing. Three or four minutes of simple tai chi to warm up my body. Went back inside took my shower, brushed my teeth, dressed and put my headphones on. Picked out an album I’ve never listened to and sat on my sofa for about 30 minutes. No phone, no meditation although this could be considered a form of it.

I just sat still. I only listened with no itinerary on my mind.

Im a student of this rewiring process. Your rituals, patterns, routines harness your thoughts. Simple terms if you repeat the same process every single day your mind becomes an echo chamber of the same thoughts, emotions and feelings. If you’re happy and flowing like a happy little duck in a stream then good for you. If you’re struggling then this is a good way to begin a reset with your patterns. I’m not a fan of prescriptions or pills to fix me. I realize there are some that it’s necessary for but at the same time I wonder how much effort was involved.

Around 20 years ago I tried to insert myself into the padded room lifestyle and was met with a catalog of pill suggestions. I gave it a shot and quickly realized they weren’t for me. The drugs subdue my mental anguish. They did the opposite.

If I need to cry I should be able to

If I’m angry I should let out a scream of rage. Suppressed emotions from an alien source in my body didn’t resonate with me. I walked away from prescriptions. All of them honestly even when I had my ankle operated on I skipped the pain meds they gave me.

I’ve been up for roughly two hours and I already feel off kilter but in a good way. I’m off balance, a tad out of my comfort zone and my brain is trying to catch up.

“Hey what’s going on Chad? You’ve changed your patterns. I can’t keep you safe while you’re doing this”

Exactly

Let me take the wheel for a bit *turns off navigation and pulls onto a random county road.

Hey man, we may get lost for a bit but we also get to see a new perspective. Change the station and roll the windows down I don’t care how cold it is outside.

We are currently on the county road today and will maintain course for the morning.

I should already be well into my walk but I’m relaxing on my sofa listening to Del the Funky Homosapien. One of his albums I’ve never listened to.

I’m about to order some cacao for my new morning beverage. That will really shake up my morning routine. The proper way to create a good hot cup of real cacao is deliberate preparation and takes a little time. I think one of my favorite things about making coffee at camp is also the process. The boiling of the water outdoors over a small stove or fire, pour over. Steam coming from your cup as you mix your accoutrements. It’s not any different than say making your own shop or pouring it out of a can. You taste and appreciate the process. You made it. It’s yours.

Creativity promotes rewiring.

Shaking up your daily steps

Changing your route to work

If you have a specific routine when you walk into work change it up. I’ve always been a creature of habit because it’s safe. If you’re keeping yourself safe in a world you aren’t happy in then it’s time to break the safety chains.

Some of my best hikes were spots I had no intention of hiking. They weren’t on my “schedule” or itinerary” this is why I throw the life’s playbook away when I go on my long road trips. It can be stressful. It doesn’t always work out the way I want it to but I still to get experience things I’ve never tried before. I purposely camp in spots that give me a little more awareness to my surroundings. Places I have to check my perimeter to make sure I’m safe, sealing up food so a 600lb grizzly doesn’t treat me like a lollipop, my head on a swivel because I found mountain lion tracks next to my fire pit.

This isn’t routine. My brain moves to a higher awareness. Is it an ideal rewiring? I think so I don’t see it as a fight or flight situation I’m not sitting in fear I’m hyper aware of the sounds and smells around my campsite. I sit with my back to my truck, fire in front of me and I’m more relaxed than a baby in its mother’s arms. I’m just more aware. And I have a large caliber gun sitting within arms reach.

My long trips always rewire my system. It’s literally why I go. The hard part is sustaining the new hardwiring when I come back. I have the tendency to go right back into my “real” world. I go home and sit in the same spot on the sofa, make the same brand of coffee to sip and look at the same three bullshit social medias. I’ll drive to work on my congested route, listen to the same type of music or podcast and unlock my deli and proceed to have the same half dozen convos with my coworker. I’ll bitch about the same things while I work and go home to share them with my wife on the same spot on my sofa, eat dinner and go back to the same three medias again.

I’ll find myself in a rut that I have complete control over and yet I’ll carry on like it’s apart of life and there’s nothing I can do about it.

It’s just easier that way.

I read a book of poetry written by Rumi a 13th century Persian poet earlier this year. I had typed in my phone notes one of his quotes “Why do you stay in prison when the door is so wide open?”

I don’t recall ever typing this out. It doesn’t mean I didn’t my mind tends to go all over the place but it looked as if I had typed it out and discarded the thought. For a week I was getting little notification prompts on my phone screen. I kept seeing one of my notes popping up “why do you…?” but I rarely pay attention to the little banners or notifications when I’m working plus I wear my glasses full time now and it’s difficult to read with them on. I’m the opposite of everyone else my age I suppose. I have to take my glasses off to read. After about a week my mind finally pinged on this note that kept popping up on my phone

“Why do you stay in prison when the door is so wide open?”

Like I said I don’t recall writing out that message on my phone but my phone decided it was time for me to see it. The meaning is subjective and can be taken to mean many different things but I got what I needed from it. I stared hard at it for a few seconds with a quiet little “wtf” in my head. Why would’ve I typed this and nothing else? When did I do this and why the fuck is it showing itself out of nowhere now?

Trail marker from my soul. The one that started talking to me in February.

I created the cage I’m in. I didn’t just create it I curated it. Through my life experiences, trauma, fears, hesitations, and perceptions. I built it. The door is wide open there are no keys I’m just afraid to step out of it. Watching the same show on my tv because I know how it’s going to end. No surprises to take me out of my comfort zone.

The last few months I’ve been going through a rewiring process to allow me to step out of my cage into the darkness. No gun, no campfire or headlamp to find my way.

I guess what I’m trying to prove to myself is if life ain’t grand then change the channel. Change your music, your tone, your routines, thoughts, patterns and step out of your doorless prison.

Im now currently listening to a new album by a band I’ve never heard of this morning. I’m going to read a little from an author I’ve never read before. On a different spot on my sofa and maybe even eat a new dish for breakfast before I try a new routine today.

Leaving my prison.

I had a nightmarish dream last night. Not a Frankenstein chasing me around my kitchen dream it was one that felt real. Lucid. It wasn’t scary it was emotionally crippling. It’s one of those when you wake up you let out a minute long sigh. You don’t even care about the loss of sleep in fact you fall right back into sleep due to the elation of finding out it only a dream.

I’ve read in my little algorithms of random readings that dreams can be your subconscious shuffling through your other realities. I’ve always pondered on that aspect. I occasionally have dreams of the same places. Some lucid others so obscure that I can only pinpoint certain objects in the room like a disheveled dresser with the top drawer always open. I rarely dream. But when I do they’re doozies. I won’t go into details of this one. It involved the old alcoholic Chad. Guess in the 8 billion realities we can shuffle in and out of that one would be one of my least favorite.

It was only a dream.

My other places I dream about are random areas I’ve never been before. One reality I’m living in a small motel suite, right next to an old 80’s hotel bar. I have a twin bed and clothes all over the floor. I call that the meth Chad reality.

Another I’ve been on this steep winding road in the mountains. High gorge type rock walls. Always descending. I’ve never been on this road in fact it seems a little animated.

Some dreams I’ll walk along a new roadside on my morning walks and feel like I’ve dreamt about the street or if I’m driving on a different road. I call that the one day ahead Chad. I need for him to share his lotto ticket info with me.

Sometimes I just Deja vu.

That dream woke me up. It’s a reminder of how quickly my life can change with adding my old friend back to my life.

No thanks I’m good.

I gave my daughter the day off from counter work at the deli today. Fam scored tickets to the SC/Bama game. Unfortunately I live with Alabama fans. My kid was scheduled to work but she won’t grow up thinking about working that counter as much as she will thinking about that first USC game she went to in Columbia. I never had the opportunity for these days at her age. I worked every weekend.

I still do.

No I’m not filling my head up with self pity I enjoy having days off when everyone else is working. Less traffic, people and lines. I want my child to have and do things I couldn’t. You don’t build your kid’s character by trying to raise them in the same shit stew you grew up in.

I’ve got about 15 feet of customs to do. It’ll be a doozy of a day and then a couple of days off. No adventure to be had this weekend and that’s just fine. My sofa is calling my ass.

I hooked up an amp to my record player with some old school Realistic speakers I bought from Don’s Audio on Laurens road. He used to do audio for Southern. He had an 80’s amp and speakers on cosignment for a gentleman who bought it brand new almost 40 years ago. He brought it to that deli and wired it up for me. He’s one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet his store is right by Costume Curio if you ever need any audio he’s your guy.

I grabbed Beastie Boy’s -Paul’s Boutique album and turned the amp on. My head pinged like it did when I bought my headphones. It was meant to be. I put Led Zeppelin II on and I was in my parent’s basement in the 70’s for two sides. For me listening to a record player on a Bluetooth speaker is like watching a vhs movie on an 8k screen. Love the energy it brings to the deli. I’m a sucker for those Japanese vinyl bars.

I put my trailer up for sale last month. I’m starting to get some traction with it although some of it is “how much for just the tent?”

I love LOVE this trailer. It’s more than I need. I’ve gone cross country with it and without.

Pros? I have a pull out kitchen

A cabinet that opens so I can prep and cook on it like a prep table.

All the storage one could use for long trips. Two additional pull out drawers, another for my generator.

I can park it, unload it and use it as my hub when I find my destination. I can leave my awning and tent open, go hike or explore, come back to my home base and take a nap. If I don’t use the trailer and I forget something then I have to break the tent and awning down before I can go anywhere. If my bed is set up that means pulling my bedding out and starting over. Not a terrible thing but if it’s raining or 30° it’s inconvenient.

Cons

I drive on a lot of gravel county roads that can get tight. Trying to make a three point turn while pulling a trailer can be difficult. It impedes some of my exploring.

Gas mileage is terrible. Tacomas are my favorite vehicles I’ve owned several but their gas mileage is shit. Pulling a trailer I get about 9 mpg. I don’t like stopping for gas every 190 miles and those hilly western roads are going to put a lot of wear and tear on my transmission.

The more storage you have the more shit you bring. The more shit you carry the more you’ll unload at every site. That starts to consume time. I love a solid camping mise en place. My little home away from home but when I’m trying to visit 6 different towns in 9 days it gets time consuming. I only use about 40% of my gear that I bring. I used to sleep out of my truck bed. It was cramped but my set up was ready when I pulled off the road I just didn’t enjoy the head room.

I’ve been researching options for the last year and found what works for me. I was fanboying over Kimbo and Scout campers but $35k doesn’t resonate with me for a hobby. My wife would agree. If I were a single person with no responsibilities that price tag would still make me wince.

Never say never but definitely not right now. Plus I have some little additions I want to add to graze after the holidays.

Found a solid camper top online that extends about 40 inches higher over the bed line and widens about 8 inches on each side. Insulated with RV style windows and an overhead storage bay so I’m not tripping over my gear. Comes with a fold out double or queen bed option that you can stow away or fold into “couch mode”. I can actually pull over anywhere and climb in the back and take my roadie siesta.

It ain’t cheap but it ain’t $35k

I’m looking forward to seeing how this comes together. The only downside is I’ll have to find a cozy place for my camping roommate Shane to enjoy on our roadtrips. He talks in his sleep.

I’m wrapping this ramble up I’ve got a solid day of work and then my weekend.

Cheers yall.

I’m one of those types that if the speed limit is 55mph I’m going 64.5. If everyone else is driving 70 then I’m right behind you doing 69.9. I’m going forward as fast as I can get away with. Traffic lights anger me they impede my forward motion. Especially the smaller intersections where I may sit for 45 seconds at an empty 4 way crossing. How dare you stop me for nothing.

I’m always going faster than I have to.

Want to watch me lose my complete shit? Put someone in front of me doing the exact speed limit that’s posted. What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t you have somewhere to go? Why the hell are you even in your car? Go under the speed limit and I’m having fantasies of murder. Left lane? I’ll come for your family.

I’m joking.

But

Not by much.

I’m this way with everything.

Driving

Walking in malls or supermarkets

Costco? Fuck you if you aren’t pushing your cart at least 2.5 mph. They should have battering rams and horns. Either type of horn works for me to be honest. I’ll honk or gore. Your choice.

Long lines? That means standing still. Are you trying to kill me? I absolutely have to be moving.

Rest days are a joke for me. I’ll relax until about 10am then I’m doing something. Moving something, driving somewhere.

None of this is an exaggeration. I’ve been programmed over time. I imagine if I’d chosen a career of a librarian or a DMV clerk my forward motion would be much slower. Sense of urgency? Literally everything I do is attached to that vibe.

I woke up at 5:45 today. I didn’t sleep well last night, tossed and turned for no reason life ain’t bad just some nights my mind wanders. I normally get up at 5 at the latest. I get up do some Gangwer style tai chi, meditate, coffee, shower and walk before work. Add journaling into that time slot. I allocate three hours for it. Since I woke up at 5:45 I feel like my whole morning now is discombobulated. I have to sacrifice and of course I sacrifice anything that slows me down so no meditation, no chi and I cut my morning walk out by half. I’m still journaling but boy you outta see how often my eye scans the top left hand of my phone to see what time it is.

Every little thing I do is 9.5 miles over the speed limit.

I hate it. It affects my everything.

It’s what makes me high strung even though I’m in my 50’s.

*sips fourth cup of coffee

Maybe I should switch to decaf.

Just an fyi I rarely drink caffeine after 9am. I would probably die..

I’m trying to regulate my nervous system. I’ve become hyper aware over the last few months after my reckoning time was served that this was the next step.

Taming the fascia.

Obeying my own speed limit.

Cruising in the right hand lane on a sunny Sunday afternoon on a scenic highway. One hand on the wheel. Throw the damn horn out the window.

Setting my own personal cruise control. Taking the foot off of life’s accelerator.

It ain’t easy. Putting the bottle down was easier. I rarely drank before 5pm. All I had to do was keep the bottle away from me for the last few hours out of my day. Slowing things down starts at sunup and ends when I’m asleep.

I’ve known only one vocation my whole life. I’ve had a few other jobs such as a greens keeper at a golf course, I bagged groceries and even tried my hand at mortgage lending but it’s always been the hospitality industry for me.

There ain’t nothing hospitable on the other side of the counter.

I can’t speak for all vocations but I can speak firmly and accurately about mine. I was thrown into the foray of the service industry. No helmet no shoulder pads hardly any instructions.

Man I hate forced deadlines. They’ve been the bane of my existence for almost 40 years.

40

The Hyatt we had around 3 minutes to respond to room calls to and knock at their door to grab their luggage. The transportation side you may have an hour to drive to the airport and back or it may be 45 minutes. Ever gotten cussed out by a pilot for making him late for his own plane trip?

Serving? Just constant ptsd of your food coming out in a timely manner. Just take the fucking AZ steakhouse that I became brainwashed in for 16 years

Serving?

You had 45 seconds to greet the table with bev naps down

90- 120 seconds first rounds arrive. Rub a fucking lamp if you think service bar will have your margarita ready in two minutes on a Friday night. Apps out in 4-6 minutes, entrees 12-14 minutes. If they order dessert 6 minutes tops.

For a few months I was the guy in the kitchen that got yelled at once the tickets started reaching 17 minutes and they did often.

For about 10-12 year I was the guy that yelled at the kitchen when tickets hit 17. 20 minutes meant a table call. Table calls at Arizona in Greenville were a hoot. The things people will say to you when their food is late is astonishing. I got my face ripped off at least once a week. That was a good week. Simpsonville? Don’t get me started. Columbia? Worst of all three. My last two years I’d travel to all of the steakhouses and teach the managers how to yell at the line on expo. What a time to be alive man. I used to lose my voice every year from expoing. Southern I did inside expo. I had a dream just last night that I was working inside expo there. Haven’t expoed in 5 years. I’m still having in the weed dreams.

Weeds = PTSD. Perpetual fucking weeds

We could go round and round and round but I lose some of you after around 2000 words.

Brevity

Do I still experience the weeds in the deli? You bet your ass. I’ve fixed quite a bit but there will be days sandwich tickets get lost or I have to drive to Publix in 20 seconds because we sold 15 Bahn mis and now we are out of cilantro. Charcuterie? It’s all a deadline and timing situation. You fall behind when you have $2000 in boxes in 8 hours you’re fucked.

Completely fucked.

There’s no outside expo who will jump over the line and help out. There’s no bail. One lovely afternoon we had accidentally scheduled two grazing tables on the same Saturday. One in Clemson and one in Marietta. We drove to Clemson with the table for Marietta. We didn’t even get the first one right. I drove 85mph down 414 and arrived at the ceremony 3 minutes late. I still had to drive back to the station to make another grazing table with components I no longer had. We had friends driving around Greenville buying wooden boards and bowls. We did an another grazing table in 3 hours.

3

Hours

I almost walked away from my business that day. Not because it was as one bad day it was the accumulation of all of them coming back to me. My wife saved me that day by holding my belt loop while I dangled over the edge of a building. She’s done that a lot over the years.

I’m already high strung. This business feeds it. Sustains it. Sometimes mocks it. When you read about my burnout this is why. The weeds have broken me a hundred times and I still have to get back up or go away. Where the fuck would I go?

Breaths in

Breaths out

Yesterday I drove the speed limit the entire time. My morning walk I took my time and shortened it by a mile on purpose. Still walking just easier pace. I always find myself walking faster the last mile because I feel time creeping up on me. Even on my days off.

I’ve talked about how I make my coffee every morning like I’m first rounding a table. I changed my routine and now make it when I get home from work. I use a reverse osmosis machine for water. It’s like a watching a 90 year old man pee. It takes me a solid 6-7 minutes to make coffee. I do this specifically to slow my ass down. The fact that I can tell you that it takes 6-7 minutes is because I’m timing myself without even thinking about it.

It’s all still there. I’m even attempting to slow down my speech patterns.

Even when I write I’m trying to finish at a certain time. I’ll cut things short if I don’t.

Recreational activities I also rush. If I’m camping I’m hauling ass to my destination.

I’m setting up camp like a war storm is coming. The breakdown I’ll start the night before. I’ll have everything tidied up before bed. So I can get home as fast as I can. When I hike buddy I’m hiking like the park is closing in an hour.

I wasn’t born this way. My career molded me.

Programmed me

Ruined me

That last one was a little dramatic. I’m not ruined I’m fixing it bit by bit.

*looks at the time on my phone.

I’m driving the speed limit all day today.

In my car

In my deli

On my walk

Even if I go to Costco I’m doing the speed limit and I’m hanging in the right lane.

Slow and steady wins the race..

That’s what Ned Flanders would always say in the Simpson Road Rage video game.

Don’t think I’ll ever be Ned enough but at least im trying.

If my parents had stayed together my childhood could’ve became worse. My mother no longer loved my father. What if he had still passed at the same time and it had just been my mother and I? She couldn’t drive, she didn’t work. No financial means to keep us safe. My siblings were all moved out by then.

Tom brought security. He didn’t bring love at first but it did come. I don’t think it happened well into my late teens so ten years it took. Tom was aggressive, loud and cross at times. That was my perception

But

He was a hard worker. He was stubborn as fuck and he was sober. He quit drinking years ago. Just an occasional beer. He supported my mother and let her be Peggy. That’s not easy. He taught me how to be independent. He gave me a work ethic.

My childhood wasn’t ideal.

But

It wasn’t bad. I’m strong in hand and mind. I have an edge that I needed for this ride. Tom gave it to me. He was meant to and when I got old enough to carry that edge he softened because he no longer needed it. Tom was the baton to my grit. Adding to that my mother’s pride and my father’s love and you have me.

I am what this created. I don’t look back on my old school bus fights as a violent ritual but more as a sculpting. My life was going to be a hard one so it taught me how to fight. I’ve been hit in the head so many times I no longer flinch.

In the life sense. It gave me that edge that I see finally dulling not because of my age or tenacity but because of the peace I’ve found. I’m passing that baton onto my daughter. In my own way. The way I was meant to for her. In fact everything that happened to me as a child, teenager and young adult I’ve utilized it in the upbringing of my daughter. Part of who she is now is from my life lessons. I’ve impressed these on her. I’d say 90% good and 10% bad. I still smile at the “bad” it’s not anything terrible it’s just some familiar traits that come with being a part of me. She’ll outgrow most of it eventually.

My relationships prepared me for settlement. I got some big emotional bruises from them. I used to refer to them as scars but I turned them into bruises.

Bruises hurt to the touch but they heal. And so did I.

Listen

You can’t be deliriously happy without knowing what soul crushing sad is.

You can’t be grateful without knowing about loss

You don’t know your strengths if you aren’t aware of your weaknesses.

I’ve been a mass of personalities, traumas, bad decisions, heartbreaks, anxiety and poorly timed decisions. Like a pinball in a shittiest arcade theme.

I needed all of this to reach the high score.

Like a rock statue that was never sculpted by hand but by nature.

Natural

Original

Unique

And still standing

Smiling

This is how I make peace. I rewrite the stories of my life with different endings. Perceptions.

It works.

Take some of the shittiest times of your life and write them out with completely different perspectives and the ending changes. Your trauma will follow suit. As will your mental health.

It’s like sculpting with your mind as the chisel.

Life isn’t always bad when you’re looking at it in your rear view mirror and you can see that beautiful horizon that you created behind you.

Peace ☮️

This week has been on man. It’s been a challenging one. I’m not a “I’m being tested” kind of person but if I was I’d like to turn in my quiz now.

Life ebb and flows and mine is or was ebbing. I say was because I just woke up I have the whole day ahead of me. My intentions are to carry on like I’m meant to and not walk around with my nervous system shoulder pads on.

I intend to raw dog this day like a champ. I’d prefer the day to follow suit.

Hard to describe why I’m not functioning well the last two days. I’m not on here this morning to expound my pain or harp on bad moments. I’ve had much worse days. I’ve had much better. Perspective flows better if you can set emotion aside.

I’m terrible with that. My mom’s nerves have decided to hang out with me for the week. She even brought her duffel bag and toiletries.

Im gonna ride this storm out like Lt. Dan on a shrimp boat.

Wait for the flow to arrive

In my head I tell myself “it’s not burnout you’re only craving freedom from the grind”

Even my kid can sense my gears grinding

It’s a phase I recognize this doesn’t make it easier sometimes. You put in a lot of mental work to fix things in your head and somedays you fall off the ladder. I had a good string going for quite some time.

I’m fine I really am I just don’t feel my regular energy. It’s like someone switched out my personality with some decaf.

Bitch

Maybe it’s my coffee brand.

Random thought but I think my coffee stays warmer longer in white mugs. I prefer white mugs over any other mug color. They also have to be a certain size and shape. I’ll turn down a coffee if it’s in a giant mug, dry clay texture, weird color or if the handle is misshapen.

Don’t get me started on spoons.

I’m just going through one of those “what’s the point” moments. I’m not a fan of them. Mental mud that sticks to my tires and splatters all over me. Head snakes that hiss when I’m trying to cool off. They used to be much worse. And I can feel them slowly fading but this day needs to be better. Period

Had a woman in front of me balancing her checkbook at the register at Publix and I almost put her in my trunk. That’s the old Chad I’m trying to dispose of. Positive side I don’t have a trunk.

Moving on

I think we are going to put up our Christmas tree right after Halloween. Pre turkey day. This will be a first. My wife has already received her proper fancy gift wrapping accessories so it’s game on. I’ve mentioned in past blogs how I’ve gotten back to embracing Christmas after losing the spirit for almost a decade. I’m excited for the early Christmas intrusion. I’m sure the cats are too..

I’m just writing to release today. I know in the next few weeks I’m going into a charcuterie cave for a bit and you won’t see much of me other than when I’m folding salami and timelines as my AI once said. My coffee is already cold. I knew I should’ve used a white cup.

Sometimes I break my work vows and schedule charcuterie on Sundays to help people out. I don’t like my boxes sitting in fridges for two days so I offer to make arrangements on my days off. That’s the hustle part that takes over. It means I have to stick around work with no release. My wife knowing this better than anyone has offered to do it instead. It’s a mental investment for her. She gets to relax knowing her hubby isn’t grinding his teeth.

It’s a true representation of 20 years of being together.

Charcuterie season puts me in my next year travel destination aura. When I’m knee deep in boxes at 4am I’m also in my truck sitting on my tailgate in a new spot. I dream of new places to see. Or some of my greatest hits.

Next year on my mind is Tetons, Wind River range and maybe Yellowstone. Or a long stay in Colorado for adventure. Idaho but it’s a trip and a half and glacier needs to be revisited but that drive man oof.

So Tetons and or CO. I see trip to the Adirondack mtns too. I’ve only barely touched the edges. Maine could be revisited I love a good lobster roll. We shall see.

Kyrie eleison and all that.

My mother always talked about her “nerves”. Not a “you’re getting on them” type of person my mother spoke of them in a way like you’d refer to your hair on a humid summer day or a head cold.

If she got upset she would point out it’s because of her nerves.

Frazzled? Nerves

Angry? Nerves

Can’t sleep? Nerves

Sofa the wrong color? Nerves

Cobweb over the corner of the tv? Nerves

And so on.

She could have some emotional outbursts you’d never see coming. I had some friends of mine go to the lake with me back in ‘92. We stopped at my parents house because I had some stuff stored in their garage I wanted to grab on the way to the lake. My parents were out on the road (my stepfather was a long distance truck driver). One of my friends left a beer bottle in the side of the yard when we left for the lake. My mother found this beer bottle and called me immediately. When I answered I thought someone in our family died from the sobs coming from my mother. Nope. She was just pissed off that I allowed someone to have a beer at her home. She thought I had thrown a party. I was 21. Hadn’t lived at home in almost 4 years.

She also called me when my brother OD’d and it was the same exact energy and intensity in her voice.

My mom was an emotional woman. She was an extremely proud woman. If you looked or talked down to her may the good lord have mercy on your soul because she would let you have it. Peggy was spirited. Not violent in any way at least not with her children. She’d cut off an arm before hurting any of us and wouldn’t hesitate to cut yours off if any of you tried.

Peggy was a mama bear true to her word.

Don’t get on her nerves

I had a kid call me a faggot when I got off the school bus when I was 13. She was on the porch and heard the insult flung out of the little drop window of the bus. She wanted him dead. No not “he needs his ass kicked” she wanted him dead. It took her 13 year old son well past dinner time to bring her down. That kid struck a nerve.

Some Piedmont reject catcalled my 18 year old sister while we were shopping at Community Trash one summer afternoon and my mother screeched at him and had her nails out like a jaguar. The man was twice her size. He ran back inside of the grocery store. My mother had some lungs on her.

I love my mother with all of my heart y’all if anyone thinks I’m typing this out with ill intentions you’ll see the Peggy come out of me.

It’s always been “you are your father’s child”

I look like my dad. I have his sense of humor. I have his glare, hair color when I had it, his affinity of the bar life, his body type and even his fake gruffness exterior. I’ve always wanted to be like my old man that’s just how it is when you’re a boy. Or how it should be. I also loved my dad with all of my heart. Both parents even separated loved me as a parent should.

I inherited my father’s sense of humor

I’ve also inherited my mother’s nerves.

I don’t struggle with my sense of humor..

Sometimes when I “time travel” pre bedtime my mind will go for a drive down memory lane. While I camped I did something that reminded me of my mother. I can’t recall at the moment I did journal about so I’ll have to go back and look. It was a fleeting moment, I smiled about it and it may have conjured a tear or two. That’s the thing about being outside with no distractions. Your brain will begin to explore.

My mom flashed into my mind just long enough for me to think about some of the old days. I’ve been going through a rewiring process the last few months so if these memories pop up I sit down and have a watch again and see if I need to make peace or adjustments. This is how I deal with childhood trauma and it works for the most part. You can call it shadow work. I use to alchemize my emotions. It’s a long hard process folks.

I had a bit of an emotional crisis yesterday. Nothing outrageous but I lost control. Something I haven’t done in a while. A bunch of currents going the wrong way at the same time while I tried to swim up the river. I had a great time camping for 48 hours but little things had gotten to me.

To my nerves

I camp on Sunday and Mondays because most of yall don’t. I generally have the mtns to myself. I don’t go anywhere on holidays or mid summer if I don’t have to. I can’t reset in traffic nor can I standing in a long line somewhere. This is not relaxing to me. Not anymore. I had a lot of company in the mountains last week. Leaf peepers peeping, tourists touring. It’s all fine and dandy I don’t let it get to me most of the time. Some hiking areas were closed due to current times and I ended up turning around on my way to Boone because traffic was terrible. I didn’t want to sit in my truck all day. I also had to leave for Greenville at 4:30am because my plans of someone covering a few hours of my deli shift didn’t work out. That wasn’t a big deal but it did trigger a flashback of Southern and the tetherment. So yes, it got to my nerves. Gridlock from a wreck near Black Mountain put me behind half an hour. Came home and my wheel jack wouldn’t jack anymore so I couldn’t get my trailer off of my hitch. Had to grab some bricks and a stump to get it off of my hitch. I maintained poise and took a breath. I was completely fine. Left for the deli with a smile still on my face.

Then I pulled up to my deli and see the sidewalk ripped up again.

That’s when Peggy came knocking on my door.

As I’ve said I’ve inherited my mother’s nervous system.

My nerves erupted. I could feel my jaw clench as I walked in the door. Went to the back to turn off my alarm and my sign was lying sideways in my office. I have an 8 foot wooden sign sticking out of my office awaiting a permit that had been submitted 8 weeks ago. It protrudes into the kitchen. It’s starting to get scuffed and every day it sits there I get a reminder of why I hate all bureaucratic procedures. It came to a head.

*Peggy busts down the door. We have achieved full nervous system end game.

My day immediately turned to shit. Full blown knockout blow. I wasn’t manic but man I was ledging. I work the counter during the week. That means I’m the first face you see when you walk in the deli and my face does not hide emotion. Nor does my body language. I was pitching a fit on the inside while trying to pull a smile out of my ass. Luckily for me I only had about 9 customers all day because my storefront aesthetic reads “we are closed” when there are a half dozen guys with 20 orange barrels working in your parking lot. I’m a pacer when I get into my “nerves” I kept walking around the parking lot trying to figure out the best place to drop a grenade. I was the grenade. I hadn’t spiked like that in a bit. Went home to talk about my day to my wife and found everything coming out of me negative. Even my camping experience that I truly enjoyed for the most part I could only conjure the negative.

My nerves had been struck.

I kept my bundle of nerves on the inside for the rest of the night. No sense it letting bleed onto everyone else.

It’s a brand new day but my nerves are still getting it on. Parking lot will not be ready today I’ve made peace with it but it’s going to be staring me in the face all day to attack my nerves. My very bruised nerves.

I have to have resolution in my life. I don’t leave things open I have to close all doors. If I haven’t made peace with a situation or conversation from 29 years ago I’m still thinking about it. This is why I have my rewiring sessions to make peace with old things. It takes an army of concentration. I’ve patched a lot of holes. Still have a ways to go. I went to bed angry last night. I haven’t done that in months. I wanted to fight someone yesterday and I don’t mean arguing.

I hate when I spike. Boy did I. My colleague Barry got to hear 6 hours of rants in between the 9 customers. I had plenty of free time to get it all out.

I’m fine. Sorta

The come down after my camping didn’t help. Every time I go camping I don’t want to come back.

That’s not what you think it means I love being home with my family more than any camping trip it just means I don’t want to come back from that state of mind. I’ve been teetering on the edge of burnout for a bit.

I’m fine really. I needed to write this to release. It does work. Top it off with having breakfast with my daughter this morning and I can feel my nerves downshifting. My daughter didn’t not inherit her grandmother’s nerves.

I’m grateful for that. She did get her smile though. I’m even more grateful for that. She has her mom’s emotional traits. I could not ask for more.

Today will be better. Regardless it will be. My days are about to be filled with seasonal work while I fight the urge of becoming Ralph Waldo Emerson. I’m changing my camping dynamics soon hopefully. That’s a whole ‘nother gear to grind. It’s another thing I got from my mom. She liked to change things up constantly, move things around in her surroundings. Ever wonder why my deli looks different each time you walk in?

Thanks mom.

I don’t mind it actually. I embrace it. Keeps things from getting stale. God I hate stale. The older I get the more I go from

“this is just who you are”

to

“don’t let this define you, it’s how you respond to it that builds you”

Baby steps. Just like my mom taught me how to walk.

I’ve been in a mental rut this past week or so. Could be a little longer I suppose I haven’t paid much attention to my stagnant state of mind until recently. Lethargic would fit this bill.

Pensiveness loading maybe. I don’t know man. Nothing seems to fit, my toe still hurts from smashing it two or three week ago. Deli hasn’t been my favorite place lately. I’m in between compliance and wanting to change all my things. I’m fickle as they get y’all but sometimes you have to throw out your life wardrobe and start over again.

Once again I’m feeling change coming about me. Often times it’s comfortable and I keep my flow but sometimes it’s like a big itch I can’t scratch and here we are.

Right now

I’ve been trying to disassociate with social media and I watch my business drop significantly. I could only be my timing but it gets in my head when it does this. I quit writing so much about the deli because work Chad needs a break during this time of year. It’s not a big deal I’m coping with the upcoming box orders this season. Work for me? Somedays it’s hunky dory and other days I’m staring off into my office asking myself “what’s next?” not because I’m ready for the deli phase to move on because I’m really not prepared for that. Something keeps yanking my chain that there’s more that I’m suppose to do and the deli is temporary.

Big fat trail marker blocking my pathway.

Or lighting it up. Either way I ain’t going backwards again.

I’m not meant to

Who’s telling me this? Man that’s a good question. Whoever is posting the trail markers. He’s terrible with communication.

I’m about to go on a camping gear purge. Doesn’t mean I’m slowing down my hobby or cutting back. My guy in me is encouraging me to cut back on material things. I love my camp toys. I love my hobby inventory. I just get carried away sometimes.

Put my trailer up for sale if anyone wants it. It’s on marketplace. I feel like I’m selling my friend. My second home. It feels necessary. It may not sell. If it doesn’t I’ll keep it. I can haul a lot of gear and it’s a great set up if you like having a hub while you camp for a week. I’m not writing this to sell my trailer. but sorta am

When I first started camping out of my truck it was just me and my truck bed. A cooler, duffel bag, yeti box for camp cooking and a Coleman stove. And a chair. Sometimes my tailgate was my chair. I’d pull up to a campsite, open my tailgate pull out my chair and cooler that would double as a table top and that was it. 5 minutes tops I was done. My memories popped up of when I went to Colorado for 8 days in 2020 and I slept on a futon mattress in the back of my truck bed.

Probably my favorite trip. Not because of the setup but more the simplicity and freedom. I’d pull over in the middle of nowhere and hang out of my truck tailgate. Sip on a few vodkas and watch the sunset. Dinner was a quick MRE over my Coleman and then I’d drift off in a drunken slumber. I miss some of that obviously not all of it.

I miss that feeling. Not the vodka part the placement of that sentence wasn’t the best. I mean I miss the vodka too I’m an alcoholic but it’s not allowed to play with me anymore. And vice versa.

I’m pushing towards that style again now that I’ve gotten about 30,000 miles of traveling and about 200 days of sleeping around the country.

Not quite the same way I used to do it. I don’t enjoy lying horizontally for hours while it rains outside of my truck. Awning is a must and so is headroom. I’ll also never give up my Jetboil. Just ain’t happenin’.

Falling in love with traveling is like a long distance relationship. No good explanation really other than I love it, I miss it and sometimes it feels like it’s a thousand miles away.

I’m on day two of trying no medias. Yesterday went well until about 4pm when I put some shit for sale on marketplace and scrolled for a bit. I’ll pop on fb to post this and then dissolve back to reality because Facebook ain’t it.

Same shit. Everyday. Ever wondered wtf you used to do with your free time before cellphones? I find myself staring off into my living room abyss. I had my AI break down the Nag Hammadi into gnostic terms for me to decode.

What the fuck are you talking about Chad?

Life’s wild man even when you’re just sitting on your sofa trying to figure out where you’re gonna land next.

Zero anxiety. I’m being truthful. It’s kinda fun wondering where the next train stops. It may not who knows?

I’m in control I’m just not driving the train.

Let me be able to build a campfire wherever it stops.

While it sit on my tailgate.

This anniversary is a newish one to me.

It turns 5 today. I’m not hyper aware of it like it used to be. I don’t harp on it like I did. Man did I used think about this day every single day for months and even years. It turned up in my social media memories when I reached back to 2020 and my mind did a quick “oh yeah that was today”. I’m currently reflecting back on it as I write this. When I’m done I’ll go back and look at what I’ve written about it in the past and how it compares to now. I’ll graph the changes in my head and if there is anything left to put to rest or discard I’ll do it then. I do this often when I’m writing about substantial events. It allows me to make peace with myself piece by piece. I’ve said this a hundred times, journaling is therapy. Sharing it is even more valuable for me.

I split with my old company today. Approximately 4:15-4:30 Monday September 29th, 2020 I’d sign away 8 years of work and partnership after a brief and heated conversation with my partner. Our partnership wasn’t working out and I made sure I did my best to push it over the edge. I’ve done this in past relationships with others. Once I’ve seen the writing on the wall you can rest assured that I will poke the bear in the room until it roars.

I signed some papers, shook hands after some bitter talk and drove home to let my wife know her 49 year old husband was officially unemployed. It wasn’t a fun conversation. My wife had just lost her job with my company three months before.

I’m not writing this out to attack my old company. That energy is extinguished. It was never really intended in the first place I feel like somethings were said at the wrong time, emotions fueled and rumors were misrepresented. Both sides. There aren’t sides to be had anymore. I’ve made my peace and the ones that mattered have done the same. As I said when my old partner passed last year my outlook was shaken and I made it a point to never speak ill about my old company again.

And I haven’t. While there still remains a small handful of folk who I won’t be having dinner with anytime soon, I’ve closed that chapter and reached out to the ones that mattered to me.

I spent the first two months of my unscheduled freedom drunk on my sofa. I did take a little siesta out to Colorado for some soul searching. It was beneficial but I stayed drunk the whole time I was gone.

I’d walk around my yard blowing leaves around for weeks. Trying to keep my sanity. It had already left the room months ago.

I’ve told this story a dozen times. I survived. It took a minute to get back on my feet but I did.

1825 days.

No grills, no fryers, hoods, schedules, inventory counts, brunch meltdowns, no shows, financial meetings, P&Ls.

1825 days

Healing, coping, recovery, sobriety, learning to love again.

I was forced to reckon with myself. Took a year away from the system that I loved to realize it was the key to my self destruction.

In three months time we’d sell our toxic family home. We lost so much equity in that house but we had to leave. We needed a new start in our relationship, everything tied to Southern had to go.

We downsized to a tiny 2 bedroom house that we currently rent.

And then I put the bottle down.

Life got better then. Our marriage improved because I needed to improve. Chadcuterie was able to pay the bills while also giving me some freedom to live. Southern could never do that. We were always a paycheck away from being broke. 4 car repos in one year back in 2016. What a time to be alive.

It was part of being in that system. The only system I knew. Controlled chaos was my mantra for years. YEARS. The system will own you. The only way to break free is to leave it all behind. And that’s what I did. Step by step. I had offers to partner up and do it all over again but my intuition said no. Every waking moment while I was working out of that little kitchen at Birds my mind was screaming “YOUR BETTER THAN THIS” but my intuition said otherwise. I needed to be humbled to know what I was looking for. To understand what I was missing.

Throwing solo fits in that little corner of the brewery. Crying when I knew no one was watching. I was exactly where I needed to be even though my pride tried to reject it.

Humility

Hard pill to swallow

I grew up. 50 years it took me. Still taking me but I’m much MUCH better now. Still learning to not be an asshat at times.

I was forced out of the system that I had built. Man I was angry. Now I want to shake his hand again and thank him for saving my life.

My real life.

Man I like this guy so much better and my fam will tell you the same. I’m about to have a coffee date with my daughter this morning. I’m gonna fiddle with my camping gear ( a hobby formed after my release). When I look in the mirror I see a completely different person. I always smile at him because Goddamit he’s earned that smile.

Anyhoo

The last 5 years have been quite the journey. The pursuit of happiness has a trail y’all. You won’t find it looking for it. Don’t think you’ll stumble across it either. It’ll find you if you allow it to. Just gotta slow things down until it does.

Hustling is waaaaay overrated. It comes with the cost of sacrifice. Sacrificing your life to make life better.

What a fucking paradox.

Today I’ll have breakfast with my daughter and I’ll smile the whole time because I’ve gotten to watch her grow up the last 5 years instead of having to plug holes in dams. I’ll have my second coffee when the wife wakes up and we get to chat in our little home about things that aren’t work. I may read a book or just sit in silence for a few hours. I no longer try to take over the world. You can have it.

My cat is resting beside me. If I could purr along with it I would. In a way I suppose I am.

Life can throw some ridiculous shit at you sometimes. When it seems like it’s the end of the world that’s when things start to turn.

Don’t fight it. Ride it out. Let your soul do the rest.

That’s all I got. ☮️

I buried a squirrel in my front yard yesterday. Something got ahold of it and wounded it beyond saving. I saw it lying in my driveway and it appeared dead but once I inspected it still had some life in it. It was suffering and dying. I use the means necessary to put it out of its misery and gave it a proper burial. I drive past probably a dozen dead squirrels a day on my commute to work. North main is full of them. This one got to me a little bit.

I’d say I’ve softened up over time. I made a pact about 8 months ago that I would no longer hurt anything anymore. Deliberately that is. All this means is bugs get taxied out of my home on dust pans, I allow spiders to spider, if some little varmint gets in my home I re home it in my neighbor’s yard.

Just kidding

Barely

All creatures have souls and should be treated as such.

Moving on.

One year ago today I’d be waking up at 3am to listen to transformers explode, trees falling and wind trying to blow my roof off my house. Sitting in the eye of a category 5 hurricane when you’re 200 plus miles off of the coast is a wild experience. I’m not telling yall anything you didn’t discover on your own reconnaissance that week. It was insane.

Still is. I often wonder how many of you who didn’t prepare for the catastrophe last time and decided to double up for next go round? I did. I was a little more prepared than most but I wrote down every little detail I overlooked and immediately started stocking up on missed necessities.

I’m no doomsday prepper but I can become one really quick if I have to. The only thing keeping me from having Mylar bags filled with dry goods sealed in buckets is my home is too small to hold it all. I have Mylar bags if needed.

And buckets

I’ve got my setup capacity to take my family 600 miles with food, filtered water and shelter. I can reach Kansas, Texas, Ohio, Maryland without having to stop.

Bought a lifesaver Jerry can that can filter up to 5000 gallons of water. Worst case scenario I can drive to a river for fresh water. I bought two just to be safe. I get a kick out of people who label preppers as paranoid. I don’t prepare for a nuclear war or a even a civil one. My responsibility as a father and husband is to ensure the safety and security of my family. Regardless of situation. If you think the government has that covered let me take you on some walks around a few towns in NC a year later after Helene.

I actually enjoy my little survival skills sidework. It’s a hobby. Some people collect comic books, antiques. I collect gear that will save my ass when the shit hits the fan. I like camping shit. I like gun shit. Pretty soon I’m going to like bow and arrow shit. I could build a lean-to if I had to. I can build a fire in the pouring rain.

I said it last year and I’ll say it again.

If it happened before it’ll happen again. Don’t wait until it’s too late again.

One week without power I watched people getting into confrontations over ice and gas. Lines wrapped around buildings to get propane.

Generators

Chainsaws

Imagine a month cut off from supplies. A month with no clean water. It was 85° and sunny all week.

What if it was 95°?

25°?

I spend a week without luxuries for fun. That week was not a fun one. Not because we suffered. Our biggest discomfort was no AC and no tv to watch. It was the not knowing when things would return to normal.

That freaks people the fuck out. Watching the general population’s body language while they sought out necessities during a time of crisis kept me on my toes.

Buy a couple of extra cans of gas. Not at the last minute. Keep it on hand. Not in the trunk of your Kia for gods sake.

Buy some extra canned food, bulk beans and rice. Powdered things, dehydrated things.

Salt. Lots of it

Water filters. And learn how to filter your own. Not just boil it. Filter it. YouTube is your friend.

Want to die quick? Run out of water. Nature will do the rest. This isn’t a scare tactic it’s common sense. I read somewhere in a national power grid shutdown up to 90% of the population could dissolve in one year.

90%

Ninetyyyyyyyy percent

Write that down.

I’m not saying the power grid will go down but when the government publishes numbers like these it means they’ve done their homework for a reason. Because it’s possible. And with our government?

Probable.

A small decent rechargeable battery and solar panel. $700 jackery at Costco right now. Expensive? Not when you need power. A generator is a must too. Honda makes the best and lightest.

Find your water source y’all.

Back up your pantry. That’s all I’m saying and for fuck sake leave the toilet paper alone. It’s not a necessity. The last thing I think about packing when I go on long camping trips is toilet paper. I won’t break camp for shit wipes. But I’ve left to go find water.

This anniversary is on my mind. It’s like the where were you when the towers fell but only this time I could hear them fall in my backyard. And it killed more people although you’ll never hear it spoken. It’s true. A drive through WNC in October of last year would tell you all you need to know.

Government ain’t here to save you folks. Country is a whole lot easier to manage with less people to feed and maintain. It’s simple economics. If there are handouts available be prepared to stand in line. And watch that line crumble when stock runs out.

No thanks.

Stay prepared.

Peace.