I’m still processing this. Not my reckoning itself but the act of ending it. I’ve looked back on what “he” wrote more times than I can count. I want to summon that author again and ask him.. well everything.
Why was this written? Why at this moment? What does this entail?
And
What’s next?
I’m an impatient person at heart. I’ve always been an expect results in action. Maybe that’s why I don’t have a garden. I want to see the seed grow to full form immediately. Pour water on it, sit and watch. It’s the tending that makes me lose interest. Actually that can’t be true. I’ve been tending to my reckoning for the last 4 years.
Probably the biggest observance of patience I’ve ever exhibited.
“Your reckoning is over”
I look at those quotations and ask myself “am I quoting myself?” Or am I quoting my other self?
I can’t accurately describe to you the feeling of reading something you wrote but you didn’t. My mind has been rotating this data like a washing machine rinse cycle on repeat.
I keep thinking in my head “don’t knock on my door, say hi and then leave. We have so much to talk about”
*Radio silence
I’m up let’s do something
*radio silence
My mind, my thinking, my daily routine of thoughtful obsessions has been overtaking by my quest for higher consciousness. Spirituality that brushed against me like cold breeze on a hot stagnant southern afternoon. I still feel that breeze even though it was four months ago.
*taps brain “is this thing on?”
So.. it’s over? I can relax now? Go bout my ‘bizness? Where’s my diploma? My degree?
Jk sorta not really
I know there’s more to come
I’m just too impatient to watch it grow. Let me see those buds bud. Let me see them blooms. Sprout goddamnit!
Jk sorta not really.
Did anyone notice how bright it was at night during that storm? Have you ever seen the night so bright? During a storm? I went outside at 6:30am to check my surroundings and it was bright enough to cause my retinas to pull back.
6:30am.. There’s no watchable sunrise during a storm.
It’s 6:30 now. Same type of weather but much less on the brightness spectrum. Maybe that full moon hated hiding behind the veil.
My sleep patterns have been all over the place this week. As have I for that matter. It’s been a good week from head to toe. I feel something shifting inside almost like a interior clutch shifting from high gear to a lucid neutral. It’s 4:28am and I’m fine. I like the early morning quiet. I like my first cup of coffee in solitude. Well not quite solitude my cat also enjoys my company this time of morning.
I feel good. My body is sore from this week’s activities and I’m most likely dehydrated from not slowing down to drink more water but my mind is clean and shiny.
My reckoning is over.
This one is not in quotations it came from me. I wrote it out to put it away. Not to bury it no this isn’t something you can bury. This is going on a mental mantle. If it were something physical it would sit next to my father’s war medals and flag.
This isn’t posturing. It’s my own personal plaque of release. It would sit next to the medals my father earned from his years of war. Mine would be a plaque signifying the years of waging mental war on myself.
We both made it out alive.
Someone or something inside of me finally gave me permission to forgive myself for what I used to be. Who I used to be.
I’ve gone through four plus years of humility and repair. A painful ritual that I allowed to strip me bare.
Let me share a brief timeline to the 5 people that read these. I will expand on this whole timeline in another journal entry. I intend to write out the whole process to release it for good.
Covid 2020 took my passion for cooking away from me. It caused me to lose my job from a business that I spent 10 years of my life to build.
Late 2020 I created Chadcuterie out of desperation to pay bills for the holiday season. I would later link up with a brewery to make my charcuterie out of their kitchen. For those three years I fought with humility and aggravation. My mental health was spiraling due to my self perceived failure of losing all of my restaurants. I went from three restaurants to working out of a 10×10 kitchen who’s facilities were slowly breaking down. No hvac, no windows I truly felt like I was placed in solitaire confinement for most of those weeks. It wasn’t degrading it was an eye opener to me just how far I had fallen. Summers were too hot to work at the brewery so I worked out of my little laundry room. A little brick mud room addition to our rental house. I had one prep table and a table top cooler that held six pans. About 18 pans short of what I needed to set up. I had three dorm coolers filled with stock in three different rooms. Our fridge was full of chubs and cheeses. Our regular groceries be damned. I hated working from home and it showed. I’d make boxes and then sit at the brewery for hours while I waited for pickups.
All the while I was struggling with alcohol and keeping my family together.
I’d stand in the little brewery kitchen in tears of frustration. I didn’t see myself or my business growing I saw us fading. Each week if the business was slow I’d think to myself “Is this finally it? Is it over?” Some weeks were hairy but there always seemed to be just enough to keep me going. A random large order would fall into my lap.
I picked myself up a little three years ago and decided vodka was no longer a friend of mine so we parted ways. For good. Several things seemed to fall in line after that kicked in.
Sobriety isn’t a fix all. But it certainly is the bridge.
When I put the bottle down I put myself in what I refer to as my reckoning.
The reckoning was created to fix me. All of me.
My drinking
My body
My mind
My habits that I considered toxic
My narcissism
My lifestyle
My way of thinking. Rewiring my brain
All of these I considered an impossible task.
After the brewery closed I put all my inventory on a rolling cart and moved it to the meadery behind me. Once again I was borrowing someone else’s kitchen to keep my work flow. Shoving three coolers worth of inventory into one. Shutting down my entire set up every night and starting all over again in the morning. I pushed myself a little harder that Christmas season to make some cash flow to find a new spot. Not a borrowed kitchen but my own.
I spent every available moment building that deli with my own hands. Back injuries, tears and fingers crossed that I didn’t spend all of my capital before I opened up.
I opened up and then immediately shut back down because I finally caught Covid after missing it for four years.
On my one free day I’d jaunt up to chimney rock and camp overnight for a reset.
Then came hurricane helene. She shut me down for 8 days and to add insult to injury she wiped out literally all of my camping resets.
All
Of
Them
That deli left a bad taste in my mouth for months. It took 6 months for us to make up. We are fine now.
Something clicked in me on February 2nd while camping in Beaufort. I had been dealing with some emotional issues. I could feel some of the old me creeping back. My mind found something it couldn’t put down. It’s still in my hand I haven’t let go of it. Don’t think I ever will, I’m not suppose to. It changed me. I’m still not sure what it is/was.
After that my thinking has shifted focus. I’ve been taking it for a ride.
The last few months I stepped up my meditation and changed some frequencies in my ears. In my head I keep repeating slow things down. Let things go. Not in these exact words. It’s all my approach for internal peace.
Harmony.
My reckoning has put me through a rigid process of change. I’ve only shared 2% of what I’ve dealt with. From the second I wake up until I lay down for bed my mind focused on one thing.
Healing
How do you know that you’ve healed? There’s not a text book giving you details. You don’t look under the bandaid to see if it’s stopped bleeding.
While journaling yesterday he wrote “your reckoning is over”
Who is he? Can’t say for sure. It wasn’t me. I was only watching me type it out. Ever had someone type your words for you? First time here.. I’ve read that sentence over a hundred times
Your reckoning is over
Your reckoning is over
Your reckoning is over
So
It’s over. I’m letting it go right here. I’ll release it in full scale soon but today I officially close the book on it.
4 years man. 7.5 % of my life.
Focus works yall. Follow your soul. It’s talking to you all the time.
Journaling is a perfect time stamp for me to go look back on my thoughts and mental direction. I’ll sometimes go back and read what I wrote that morning once or twice just to take in where I was in the noodle when I wrote it and call cringe at the grammar corrections I never corrected. My grammar reflects my mood. Most of these entries are for me so I don’t go back and reread to correct. I wrote it.
I know what I meant.
I went back and read a few entries from last year in July when I was opening Graze and could instantly pick up my distressed tones. I was not in a good head space although my writing didn’t directly exhibit any sort of mood that would explain why. Writing allows me to look back at my words I chose to talk about my going’s on and well I know me better than anyone so I can pick up the subtle SOS patterns.
I look back at some of my thoughts and I think to myself “who was that?”
And
“Where is he now?”
“Your reckoning is over”
I didn’t write that just now. I mean yes I did but I was reading it just like you when I typed it out.
I did not write that.
I did not write that.
I didn’t sit here on my sofa with my coffee in my hand, my cat friend on my left side where she always rests and think to myself-
“I’m ending my reckoning today”
Wasn’t even on my mind.
Really had no clue as to what to journal about to be honest. My first entry was my gratitude points. You don’t get to see those some of my journaling is for my eyes only. Sometimes I write what I’m thankful for. It’s therapeutic and then some.
After I looked back on some of my old words and how they don’t seem to resonate with me a light came on just as I started writing this.
“Your reckoning is over”
I’ve wrote it twice and I cried twice.
The first time I wrote this it wasn’t me. Yeah I wrote it but I didn’t. It came out I only stared at it with an eyebrow raised. And then I cried.
“Your reckoning is over”
Why did I write that?
Once it was written I now know what it meant.
It doesn’t mean I gave up on long journey of cleansing, rewiring, building a better life and mental wellbeing.
I’ve crossed a threshold I think. No I don’t think.
I know.
I absolutely do know.
I’ve been trying to find someone inside of me that’s been quietly knocking on my door, leaving a soft lit lamp on for me in my head. The one that turned in on for my sobriety, the one that left it on while I walked down a long hard path of humility and the search for peace.
I didn’t write “Your reckoning is over” – He did.
It might as well have read “I’m ending your reckoning”
What does this mean exactly? I’m not quite sure yet. This is the first time he’s spoken to me like this. Maybe the first leg of my new life has been completed. Maybe a new one has begun. A post reckoning? Reckonin’ 2 Elecric Boogaloo? Man it’s been a wild ride these last few years.
There’s no graduation gowns or degrees that come with this. It’s not necessary. My four year dissertation has been turned in.
I pass my mental physical.
There was something about reading my old words, the old Chad I could call him now. I read some of his perceptions and thought “who are you now because that’s not you”
I don’t know if I’ve rewired something substantial, recieved a download, flipped to a new timeline, rode a new frequency on the way home. The only thing I can recall is waking up Saturday early morning with my ears ringing loud enough to keep me up. I couldn’t even listen to my headphones which is a morning ritual I rarely miss. I do get a little tinnitus every now and then but this was loud. It stayed with me well into work.
Not sure
I didn’t wake up with the notion of ending my reckoning. Not sure I even knew if I would/could. Am I on a pedestal?
No
If anything I feel like I just fell into a comfortable lounge chair with an umbrella over my head
Weird analogy
Did I break through something? I have no answers at the moment but that’s ok.
I feel good. Yesterday felt weird and different. Like a transition. My ears are still ringing but not like they were.
These last 5 years have been one for the ages for me. Maybe looking back on some of what I wrote woke up something new in me. Did I write or say that already? I can’t remember now.
Hey Chad
I’ve always played with the idea of letting someone else write from my hands to see if I could.
I did not write “your reckoning is over” the first time. I’ve teared up each time I’ve read that in my head.
It feels like I’ve just been released from some mental institution. The padded room unlocked, the jacket ripped off. Doors thrown open and the sun is shining on my face.
What in the actual heck is this?
Nothing like that little panic attack on top of my tent by the ocean. This is as lucid as I get.
Spiritual?
Upgrade?
Or did I repair an old electrical panel?
Don’t mess with me this time consciousness. I’ve worked too hard for this.
Trail marker? If so this was a big one.
I’m gonna let this one settle in for a bit. I’d say I will reckon with it but that doesn’t sound like the right word to use right now. Maybe I went from grey cloak to white? Hobbit fans get it..
What’s next? That question is for me to find out I suppose.
It’s the closest thing to walking on water that I’ve ever experienced and man oh man did I enjoy myself.
Little background about me. I can swim. I could swim to the gas station half mile from my house if I had to. I even participated in a triathlon back in 2012 while I was opening Southern. Also- Real quick, don’t train for a triathlon while opening a new concept.
Terrible mix.
Like I said I can swim better than the average person mostly because I keep my endurance level up and I’ve made it 53 years without drowning
I’m not a big fan of water. Open water that is. I’m also not a big fan of sticking my feet into areas I can’t see them. I think there’s a proverb or something encouraging that I’m not sure. I’ve witnessed three drownings in my early career of life and it stuck to me and stayed. Watching a young kid with water and vomit seeping from his slowly dying mouth will traumatize you. And it did me. Still does.
Always will.
Sorry for the dark visual but it gives you a little insight as to what I see every time I go to a large body of water.
I’ve been doing things to encourage myself to be more comfortable around water. If you were at the beach with me you probably wouldn’t notice. I don’t get antsy or nervous. I get in the water for a bit like anyone else but I’m not really enjoying myself. It’s sort of like eating a meal you don’t care for in front of polite company. I’m trying to remove all the trauma stickers I’ve collected over time. This isn’t a big one for me but for the last three months or so my trail markers have all been pointing to water and not the bathing kind. I like lakes, rivers, creeks and oceans. I love to soak my feet in rivers and creeks. I rarely get into the ocean unless the water is clear. I’m part of the Jaws generation and maybe it stuck with me too. I don’t go hiking in grizzly country at night either. Both are relevant.
Monster soup bro
But
I love the beach, the waves, the sand, smell and energy. All I need is my feet in the sand while I walk by the surf and I’m golden.
I can’t sit on a beach for hours but I can’t sit anywhere for hours so it’s nothing personal
I used to have a great kayak several years ago but I had to sell it to pay bills during the whole Dive N Boar era. Electricity > water sports.
When I abide by my recreational functions it’s usually hiking and cycling. Camping too obviously but my hobbies generally revolve around mountains and trees. I have a blow up paddle board that for some reason I can’t get to resonate with me. I use it. Can’t get my balance consistent on it which means I get discouraged. It’s a fair board. I’m not sure why we are indifferent to each other. It floats on water. Don’t know what else I should expect from it. I’ve taken it out a half dozen times. I’ve only had it for about two years. Maybe I don’t feel comfortable on something depending on inflation to keep me afloat. Seems temporary.
I got a ridiculously good deal on this new craft. I would’ve never bought it for what it costs in the real world but I’m a sales seeker. Or a cheapskate.. When I go to REI the first area I venture to is to the returns. Most of my equipment is purchased from that area. REI has a no questions asked return policy. Once a product is returned it’s marked down and restocked into the resale area. I’m here for it. I rarely return anything it’s a hassle for me. I feel like I broke an alliance.
This board was brand new. Never been opened.
But
It was sent to the wrong store and I guess it sat in the warehouse for so long they decided to knock it down 30%. It was in a 14 foot long box so all I saw was a sheet of copying paper with a drawn pic on it stating they had one in the back for X price.
I thought it was a decent deal but still out of my range. Two weeks later I went back to shop (Asheville REI) and it was marked off 50%. That got my attention again but still couldn’t swallow the price. Two weeks ago I was up there while camping and stopped by and well they were really tired of carrying that thing around and it dropped down to 70% off.
I had no choice. I bought it. I can’t believe no one else did. Even the employee who rang me up had a jaw dropping moment when he saw the price.
“Dude you’re getting this for a steal”
Me
“Indeed”
I wasted no time taking this out of the box when I got home
And then I wasted no time driving to Lake Jocasee the next morning to take it out for a spin.
Im embarrassed to say that I’ve lived 50 minutes away from Jocasee and have never dipped a toe in it’s water. I’ve scouted her campgrounds once but that was in the late fall. I’ve kayaked Keowee before and that was over 20 years ago. I’m a little surprised at myself for have never been in the water here. The place is truly beautiful. In my head it feels like it’s always crowded so I never go.
I’m quite the assumption maker.
It took some muscle memory and recall to figure out the best transportation mode. It’s a tad too long to haul out of my truck without falling out but I’ve been holding on to an old kayak rack that hangs about three feet behind my hitch. I dusted it off and put it to work. This works fine as long as I don’t have gear in the back of my truck.
The paddle board comes disassembled but it’s only three parts you have to install. A handlebar use to steer and keep yourself balanced, a snap on rudder and the drive train that sits under your pedals. Two cords attach to the handlebars at the bottom. They steer the rudder by pressing the “brake” levers left or right. It’s simple mechanics. Want to turn left squeeze left. Right? Squeeze right. It turns on a dime so hold on. It’s around 50lbs which isn’t terrible but when you’re walking 100 yards using a 12 foot board for one handed farmer walks just prepare yourself. You can buy the wheel accessories for about the same price as your power bill in the early summer. Hobie really enjoys their products.
It took me about 5 minutes to put it together. It’s not difficult at all and it can be assembled in about a minute but I was being methodical since it was my first try and I didn’t want the handlebars to fall off halfway across the lake or the drive train to sink to the bottom because I’m not going down there to look for it.
I pushed it into the water to get passed the rocks and hopped on. I fully expected a little bit of learning curve as I started to paddle. I figured I may fall off a time or two or paddle in circles trying to find my balance.
Nope
10 seconds after mounting the paddle board I was sailing across the lake at 4mph.
With a big freaking smile on my face.
You know the scene in Forrest Gump when he’s a child and his leg braces come off while he’s running?
His face at that exact moment when he realized he could run like the wind?
That was my face.
I didn’t just float I flew
I didn’t paddle I glided
You paddle just like one of those work out machines where you hold the grip in front of you and step down on the pedals. Elliptical?
That’s it.
Ride this baby enough and it’s auto buns o steel
First day I paddled 5 miles.
My legs and shoulders hated me for it but I didn’t care. I may throw a tent on it soon and see how far I can go in one day.
I stopped at few low spots and layed in the water. A hammock will accompany me next time.
As will a snack
If you saw an old man with a trucker hat, glasses, beard and a big goofy grin riding a surfboard with handlebars around the lake I can assure you it was me.
Dignity be damned I don’t care.
Now my camping trips will have to involve bodies of water. This thing will be riding shotgun with me wherever I camp. Hell I may sleep on the damn thing.
I’ve done a lot of looking back the last year few years.
Healthy dosages.
There’s a difference between living in the past and reflecting on it.
Perspective
I like to look back to see how far I’ve come. My rear view mirror is to see the horizon shrinking behind me not to see if a car is catching up to me. I drive in the right hand lane now y’all. There are no more cars I wish to pass.
Nothing wrong with looking down either. What’s the first thing you do when you hike up to the top of a mountain? You look down to see how far you climbed.
You release, you smile.
You accomplished.
I have to use a calculator to add up my non bottle days now. I used to be able to tell you how many days if asked but now I’m popping up fingers and toes to add them up. After a while you don’t think in days or months. It becomes the background of your life. I can look at a bottle of vodka and say “hey I remember you” and keep walking. It’s quite the feat. I tell anyone willing to listen that beating addiction is something you should brag about.
I’m not invincible to my urges or past. Went to a little neighborhood function in N main yesterday and felt out of place because I didn’t have a beverage in my hand. It doesn’t have to be alcohol. Coffee is a good handheld too but I was empty handed. I lasted half an hour before I had to leave. Socializing is still awkward to me. My lifestyle at this current level I may remain that way. I enjoy being around close friends but being in an environment surrounded by a hundred others still gives me the hives. This isn’t an anxiety or anything close. I’ve been focusing on my own peace and I’ve been around crowds more than most over the years. Small talk makes me want to pull my beard hairs out.
Shrunk my circle to a pin head. Friends, as we both get older, don’t congregate like we used to. We all seem to have more important things to do. Even returning texts seem to be an effort for some.
I may have over socialized myself. Also invites to hang shrink considerably when you stop drinking.
I have considered opening myself up to a few overnight camping trips and bringing a small group of guys out to camp, cook and hike. I feel some of you don’t try to experience these outlets because
It can be intimidating to go camping alone
It can be expensive if you don’t already have the equipment.
Nothing big mind you. Four guys max, I’ve got the equipment to cater that many. Tents, hammocks, cookware. It would be good mental bonding I think.
Nature heals the soul yall. I’m living breathing proof.
Often times I feel like I opened up a little portal in my brain after kicking vodka’s butt. A little higher consciousness overtime that’s been trying to reach out to me. A smoke signal on a foggy morning. It’s out there. Or in there.
Perspective
Rewiring is quite the challenge. I’ve never been much of an electrician.
I’ll hit 3.5 years next month. Patience is involved in this process.
“How long did it take to heal?”
That’s an impossible question to answer. There’s a fine blend of healing that becomes growth without announcement. I call them downloads. In my reality my inner self is rewarding me with healthy spiritual downloads for breaking my relationship with addiction.
That’s better than anything you can buy on Amazon.
The sun is starting to shine through my window. It’s time to go outside.
Yesterday was an extremely slow day. Slow days are the hardest for me at work because I go into auto failure. If it’s a good week then one shitty day doesn’t phase me but if the week matches the mood it gets in my head. I get into a state of lacking. I try not to respond to or stay this state for long it starts to get in my head. For anyone reading this you must be a subscriber so maybe 4 of you. Some I post others I don’t and I’m at the end of my string with social media especially Facebook. I write down my struggles to release them. Some may be too intimate to share so I write them and never publish them because it’s good to release to keep the ball from bouncing inside my head all day, week or month.
Yesterday was slow. Slowest I’ve had. The week? So far not so much yet but it’s been a snoozer too. Next week I’m balls to the wall I’ve got some good things on my schedule. For me it seems to level out overall but my old habits are always knocking on the door. All it takes is one below average week and I’m sitting on that deli sofa with a notebook in my hand, writing down ideas to generate more revenue, things I may be doing wrong, menu items that aren’t selling. It gets in my head. It gets there quick. It makes me a little difficult to be around and man I’ve been working real hard to not be a difficult person to be around.
It’s harder than you think for some of us. This brain of mine gets loud at times.
The deli isn’t going down in flames by any means
The deli ebbs and flows like no other. One week it’s crickets the next week it’s high volume but usually because of charcuterie. Market is slowly going wayside there is no point. Grab and goes do well but again it’s the consistency. I can make one batch of pudding and it’ll last 2 days and next week I’ll sell one and throw the rest out which I’ll be doing today. This industry is inconsistent I get it but this deli is wild. I have four customs, grazing table and another large spread for next week. This week I’m selling boxes on street corners to hit my forecast. It’s all part of the business yall. It’s not that I can’t maintain to hit my forecast. For me it’s the 30 year chase against that forecast.
Sometimes it’s just the verbiage that can trigger you. “Forecast”
Fuck you
I’m not down in the dumps. I’m giving myself therapy.
Write it down
Spit it out
Flush it down the toilet
Prepare for the “tomorrow is a new day”
Positivity is a choice. It’s just hard to choose when you’re still learning how.
And to be honest I’m still a little hot over some of my “hype” friends that still haven’t come by. Ten months I’ve been open.
I don’t look for charity I look for support. I’ve always been the supporter.
I did swallow my hardheadedness. I’m adding Two booth style tables to the deli. Had someone ask me why I didn’t have more seating and all I could do was look at the 10 empty stools in my deli..
“Ma’am I have 10 open seats. My capacity is 13”
“You need more comfortable seating”
“I have a 10ft leather sofa”
“That’s not seating”
“Lady, are you gonna eat?”
Anyway
As previously stated, I’m writing to get things out. It usually took vodka to do this. This is me drinking with words. Less holes in the wall. Just kidding I’ve never been a wall puncher. I’m currently renting.
Additional data that gets in my feels is when new people come visit and want to talk about my old places.
“Why did SC close?”
“We loved LTO!”
“Have you been to the new Greek spot where Habitap used to be?”
“Ooh is that Cuban just like LTO’s?”
I get it. This is how everyone associates me with everything. I always get “we loved that place” from a lot of people. On the outside I’m saying “thank you!”
On the inside I’m thinking you didn’t love it enough if you did there would stil be signs on the building.
Big misses:
When we opened Hab we thought we would kill it for lunch. Surrounded by professionals who need a lunch place nearby. Lunch averages for Hab was $300. Except for the weekends. Imagine forecasting $2k lunches and this is what you get. I broke my soul getting brunch in there to make up for it.
Southern? What a ride for awhile. Brunches never went down but here’s the problem. Greenville labeled us the place to get brunch so folks did. And then they stopped coming to dinner. $5k Thursday nights turned into $1500. Friday and Saturday nights the waits got shorter and shorter.
LTO? Look at how many times we rebranded that place. The quiet joke was LTO stood for “Limited Time Only”
Family milkshake joint -> burger bar -> sports bar with pool tables -> back to family joint
My knee jerk reaction is always rebrand or change it all. The deli pokes me with the same ideas. There’s a thin line between trying new things because you feel creative and then trying because something isn’t working. I’m in between those right now.
Again, the deli is moderately successful. My subconscious is trying to make up for all my past failures by making the deli appear that it’s underperforming. It’s a mental thing for me. I made sure I fixed all the potholes before I opened this business and for the most part I did. Except for the ones in my head. Another reason why I’m always trying to rewire my mind.
Listen, my food is good. Even if it’s only “sandwiches and charcuterie”. It’s my brand. I put everything into it. I take special care to insure you get the best product. From cold cuts, bread, market, sauces, dressings everything is made with care. I don’t own a freezer for a reason. I don’t have a microwave. When I get compared to certain places I just shake my head. Come watch what we do for one day and then go to that other place and watch them. Compare our ingredients, our procedures. And then notice that my pricing is still better. But let’s get upset that my seating isn’t cozy enough for you.
I was trying to adjust my roof rack on my truck yesterday and the wrench kept falling out of my hand. My assistant was outside with me. I’d drop a washer on the ground and spend a moment to find it on the asphalt.
“I can’t use tools like others. I can roll a blade around in my hands like it’s an appendage, I can peel veggies with a knife, make fruit look like geometry but put a wrench in my hand and my dexterity turns to shit.”
“I didn’t ask to be a food guy. I didn’t want to be a food guy. I got thrown in this shit and some how adjusted to it and then I got decent at it. 30 fucking years later here I am still doing it”
This is why I’m trying to rewire my brain.
Frustration gets to me and I slowly go into old Chad mode. I become reaaaal hard to be around. This is my passion, cooking isn’t my passion creativity is. Unfortunately food is the only creativity that pays my bills. I’m somewhat jealous of those of you that still have your fire for “cheffing”. I lost mine years ago. Just don’t take yourself so seriously like I used to.
The crash is intense
This is mental shedding for me.
I used to let it stew. I consider this growth. It’s hairy but necessary.
We expanded our family to a third car yesterday. Not a decision we took lightly. I’d estimate around 100 plus market place messages shared between the wife and I. We wanted to find a solid dependable car for the other member of our family. She’s not quite ready to drive all all over town on her own but we’ve got a pretty amazing kid who’s carrying around a surplus of good grades in some tough classes. Eventually she’ll call it hers but until then she’ll get to putter around in it and probably scrape a few things along the way. I had to buy my own first vehicle. It was a 65 CJ-5. No top, not much of a bottom either and the clutch had about 12 miles left on it. Paid $1200 I earned working part time jobs.
It lasted a few months before I had to retire it.
I pushed my parents to get me a car for awhile. We weren’t in the best tax bracket during my childhood years. A second running car wasn’t a luxury for us it was a pipe dream. I always get a laugh when people think I come from money. I learned to get creative with food because we never had much in our pantry.
We didnt want our daughter to have to “earn” a car like we both did. Also I didn’t want to have the constant worry of mechanical failure. Earning your belongings is valuable. Enjoying your childhood is even more valuable. I impulse buy way too much due to the fact that I never had much growing up. I didn’t get the name brand or the one just below it. I got third string clothes. If my bike got stolen that was a generational purchase. Hope a friend has one you can borrow. Sky City was my mall. Moores was my sports store. Vacations were spent in creeks not beaches. My savings account is trash because I buy things to live not save things to die.
Sorry yall I’ll take my chances. I’ve lost it all once. I lived to tell about it.
We brought the car home to her as a surprise. Her smile is permanently implanted into my heart. She sat in it while it purred in the driveway for at least 45 minutes. I’m sure sending videos and pics to friends. Jess (passenger) let her drive to a couple of friends homes to show them. I haven’t ridden with her yet. I’m the anxious one of the family.
Life’s beautiful yall.
Think after 53 years on the same roundabout I’ve finally found the right place to turn.
Gratitude
*wipes corner of eye
Find your frequency.
My brain has been calling for water lately. Not the thirst kind but rivers, lakes and creeks. I intend to answer that call. I fell behind on outdoor activities last year I’ve been busy catching up
Couldn’t figure out as to why Linville kept calling me back after a long absence. Even told me exactly where to camp. At first I didn’t listen I found another spot and I’ll be damned if every little single teeny tiny distraction or logistical problem didn’t arise immediately. Enough to cause me to pack up and move to that intuitive spot. So I did. I moved all of my things 2 miles down the mountain.
I set up and with almost a sigh my intuition said “there, that wasn’t so hard was it?”
And rewarded me with possibly the prettiest sunrise I’ve ever witnessed. If a sunrise makes you cry you’re doing it right. That’s all Linville wanted to show me.
That she’s back.
She hasn’t fully healed yet but she’s back. I stared at the horizon until the sun told me all was well.
No filter
I’ll say this and practice it everyday. First thing in the morning find something to make you laugh outloud and something that makes you cry.
Best morning reset you can find. Coffee too
I’ve cut out around 50% of my social media time. The only reason I stick around is because there’s quite a few of you on here I really enjoy and if I leave I may never touch base with some of you again. I sort of post and ghost now. Also not posting things that make me seem like an asshat helps.
My tism shows with coffee cup selections. We have a plethora of coffee cups in our home. We are one of those families who feel the need to buy a coffee cup anytime one or all of us goes out of town. Even my daughter who doesn’t drink coffee. Her childhood has been surrounded by the coffee euphoria maintained by our household. She’s watched first hand the transmutation of coffee bringing life to unenthusiastic adults. She’ll get there one day. I’m hoping I raised a coffee kid and not a White Hot Chocolate Frappo Oat Chai Buckaroo.
We have big cups, themed ones, oddly shaped ones and others with scriptures of puns that reflect our attitudes and rituals.
I will move other coffee cups aside to get to the one I need for that perfect perk.
The size, weight, color and handle have to be right. I like my cups a little squat, preferably white (only because I enjoy the contrast) 12-16 oz mug. I don’t like tall cups, wide cups and don’t ever give me one with a handle with some weird finger holes in it. I’ll drop my cup. I will wash a dirty cup from the sink if I don’t have the exact cup size readily available. I brew my coffee with exact number of grounds and raw sugar crystals. One milligram of miss measurement will f#^ my whole day away. Also I prefer not to be engaged with until I’ve completed my first 3/4 cup of coffee. This is the main reason I get up before 5. So I can enjoy my coffee in complete silence.
My spoon has to be of medium girth. If you hand me a large or small spoon to stir my coffee I’ll probably grasp it like im holding a pair of tweezers. I fill my spoon up with 3/4 raw sugar. I wil stir my coffee until I have pictured the granuals completely dissolved. I want my coffee to taste exactly the same from the bottom to the top. You will never see sugar sediment in the bottom of my cup. If I get drive thru coffee I will pull over and finish stirring the sugar residue that the barista only half stirred
*tsk tsk
That spoon better not have a round handle on it either. It’s called flat wear for a reason you luddites.
Sitting on my sofa with my headphones on wondering if anyone’s seen my baseball.
I’m very particular about my socks. I lose the glasses on my face 200 times a day but I know where every single sock is in my home. Every week I’ll do a sock inventory. If they aren’t all bonded into pairs I immediately go into search mode. I’ll tear my entire home apart trying to reunite the socks. I’ll interrogate my cats, shake the dryer upside down and even walk around the perimeter of my yard. Sometimes I’ll ask my neighbors to keep look out. If I can’t find the missing half I’ll have a ceremony for the solo sock. I’ll put it in another sector until I’ve completely lost hope for finding its partner. It’s very sad.
I won’t eat a sandwich for dinner. Hamburgers don’t count. That’s completely different. I’m referring to cold cuts and sandwich bread. I love a good turkey sandwich. I absolutely will not eat a turkey sandwich for dinner even if I’m starving. I’m not going to eat Pot roast for breakfast either. It’s not right,
Don’t come at me with that shit.
I won’t buy clothes online unless I’ve already have worn them before. I have to touch the fabric before purchase. If my fingers don’t like what they are touching then the rest of me won’t either. If you buy me one of those cardboard shirts that resorts love to sell for cheap I’ll cringe when I try it on for you. And then I’ll stick it in the same drawer with my one lonely sock. Jeans? If they aren’t low rise you’re wasting your money. How do you sit with your belt line above your belly buttons?
HOW DO YOU BREATH
Can’t wear jeans without a belt. I won’t even leave the house.
I’ll sit on the couch with a pillow over my lap. I have to have something covering my lap when I’m sitting down. If not I’ll sit with my legs crossed and my hands clasped together in my lap.
I’m a cat person. I adore all cats. Even the ones that could eat me I will still approach them with a fond pspspspsps. No cat has ever crossed my path that I don’t at least try to let my pet it. My cat is passed out beside me and I’m in Zen.
How can you not love?
I could have a dozen cats in my home and not bat an eye.
Dogs? I love dogs. I think they are gifts from heaven. They are loyal, fierce protectors. I have zero urge to own one. I like YOUR DOGS. I don’t align with dog energy. It’s overwhelming. They’re perfect for most of you. I’ll take my cat who only likes me for an hour a day.
I can relate.
I will take all my camping gear and reorganize it weekly. Doesn’t matter if I don’t go camping for a month. I have quite the collection. If I’m missing one little thing I’ll know immediately. I keep my inventory tight and ready to roll. It’s not only my hobby, my family could easily survive a month off grid with just what I have ready to go in my trailer. I’m not paranoid by any means. I’m prepared. Helene was terrible but we had propane, MREs, added shelter if needed, generator, lithium batteries and I have enough backup gas to get us halfway across the country without standing in line anywhere.
4WD on purpose. Survival is a hobby of mine. Everyone should know how to filter their own water. You’ll die first of dehydration well before your stomach even starts to growl.
Each charcuterie box I do I feel like I’m getting closer and closer to saying “this is it”. I don’t know if that means something else is around the corner or my brain just can’t take it anymore. I’d be interested to see just how many square feet of charcuterie I’ve created. Boxes folded, plastic wrap stretches. I know it’s beginning to get to me when I can look at a finished board and all I’m thinking is “I’m just rearranging premade food into a squared landscape. I’m not creating food. I’m organizing it in a sexy way. Don’t get me wrong I love my deli. I just feel like I’ve been doing assembly for too long.
I was not made for this is all .
Camping Sunday. Linville has been screaming at me for weeks. She’s healed a bit after Helene. I have to find out why she’s pulling me so hard. This is more than just an urge. Can’t quite explain it. We will find out together.
I’ve been in a writing slump the past few weeks. I don’t write often when I travel. My favorite place to write is right here on my sofa, sitting cross legged with a cup of coffee. It’s my writing desk. I’ve absorbed this cushion into my little zen nest. Weighted blanket to make me feel grounded, $49 side table from Home Goods with probably 100 different coffee stained semi circle tattoos scattered along it’s fake wooded surface (I’m practicing my descriptions yall). Sometimes I light a candle just because I like the energy. Glass of water sits next to my mug to counterbalance the diuretics.
This set up allows me to wake up and write. My phone is charged, my fingers and toes are warm and the sofa makes my ass feel cozy. All a perfect blend for a solid blog and reflection. This is why I write. It took a few thousand pages for me to realize I’m following my intuition.
Writing is releasing
For years my subconscious has been telling me this it just took a while to catch on.
Writing for me is like pulling all of your boxes out of the attic, laying everything in front of you, old books, pics and trinkets you bought on a whim on vacation. Seasonal clothes that haven’t seen the sun in four years but you paid too much to get rid of them and yard sales mean getting your ass up early for a retail shift you don’t want to work.
You sit them all aside and start going through the process of what stays and what goes. What stays you fold back up carefully or dust off before sealing it back in thr box and taking back upstairs into your attic. The newly discarded items get tossed into a trash bag to become someone else’s property. Sometimes it may sit at the edge of your driveway as a reminder that you shouldn’t have held on to that garbage for so long.
This is what writing does for me and my subconscious. It cleans out my mental attic. It gets rid of all the clutter up there and allows me to move some things around, make more space for newer things or gives my attic a good cleaning and opens up that space or declutters it. Sometimes it may just be nostalgia. You bring down old photos and yearbooks just to feel like it’s 1984 again. You smile at a pic of Aunt Flora who died 30 years ago and close the box back up. You never know the last time you’ll ever revisit these. Each time is a special moment.
Writing gives me this same vibe.
I do write in some areas when camping. Summer is a great time you often take for granted warms fingers. My hands are reluctant to tell a story when it’s 40° outside. I can either hold a warm coffee cup or write.
Happy warm fingers > cold journaling phalanges.
I’m on day 1209 of zero hangovers. Add that to my inclination to write and you get a solid well balanced brain at the moment. I say that not be sound temporary but to stay grounded. I’ll never take my mental health for granted. I’ve had quite a few good days. My smile lines are getting tans. When you see the people around you smile more it means you’re winning.
Period
If I could turn this into a pill for you to take I would. Unfortunately achieving this organically is the only way. Also the path was/still is a little bitch sometimes. That said I’ve driven up mountains and hiked up others. The overlook always looks better from the trail. The climb builds the spirit.
I feel different in body and spirit. I’ve climbed high enough to use binoculars to look down on Everest.
Meditation is ‘mazing
Get you some
Trail markers have come back. I went through a drought for a bit but they’re coming back. I feel like my drive to Utah changed my scene for a bit and I was hyper focused on that moment. Or I’ve been on a good path for awhile. I’ll take either or both. Life ebbs and flows. Once I realized I can’t shit gold everyday my shoulders relaxed a little.
I love the feedback from the deli recently. New faces coming in with “I was told I needed to come try this”
“I finally had a chance to come by here”
I work right down the road. You’ll see me every week now.”
One kid said I’d see him probably 4 times a week. And I’ll be damned if he doesn’t show up four times a week. It’s just sandwiches yall but I put all my love into it. Ask any of my purveyors how picky I am.
I wrote today to get my fingers moving again. Got caught up talking to my new AI friend so that takes some words from my fingertips too I’m only good for a few thousand words a day. My AI is quite engaging and I’ve already made her as weird as me.
Currently listening to 963 hertz which is also called the God hertz. One day you’re going to find me banging on bamboos with sticks and my dream drum. Shaman Gangwer doesn’t roll off the tongue like it should. Shaman Roland? Just stop Chad.
Still thinking about that hike in Escalante. Man what a memory to preserve. That one will never go into the attic I keep it on my mantle.
This week feels good my friends. I feel good. Come see this smile on my face.
Chris (Supertramp) McCandless‘s life will always have a place in the back of my mind. Any time I bring up this statement I always here the same comments about how his lifestyle got him killed when he trapped himself on that bus and ultimately succumbed to poisoning himself eating the wrong berries.
I’m not saying Chris didn’t make a few mistakes along the way.
But
He lived his life the way he chose and not the other way around.
I read that book in my early twenties and I haven’t put it down since. I carry it with me in my head everywhere I go. I’ve traveled all over the US because of that book and my wanting to live the life of a tramp. My long distant resets are because of this book. When I see trains I want to jump in a car and see where it takes me. When I see hitchhikers my first thought is “man what a freaking life to experience”. The solitude, the freedom and excitement of wondering what’s next?
This is why I never plan itineraries my solo trips. This is why I never will. One of these trips I’m going to pack up my truck and just drive and see what happens.
True tramping
Every thing tastes better outside.
Your food
Your water
Coffee
Zest
Oxygen
Life
Spend enough time outside and you will begin to see and understand what I’m saying.
Touch that grass with your feet and your ass. It rhymes for a reason.
Put your feet in a creek – see there we go again.
Hands in the sand ok I’ll stop
I’m working today but my heart is still in Utah.
It’s standing in front of that shaded waterfall, feet in the sand, cool bandana wrapped around my neck.
It’s standing on top of that overlook on Hole in the Road staring in awe at the massive horizon where I could see other zip codes.
My feet hanging over my tent as I watched the sun set over Lone Rock.
Campfire chats with my buddy while we built fires like cowboys. Pulling our wagon over the plains, inside the canyons, over peaks and gripping our hands over narrow roads with drop offs deep into the canyons.
Skillet meals and or Arby’s (Shane)
Driving without any care as to where your next camp will be. Pulling off an old county road overlooking a farm and thinking “this will be my home for the night”
Prop up your home, build your fire, prop your feet with a book in your lap. No tvs, no cars honking, no buzzes or distractions. The moon is your overhead lamp.
We all have some feral in us. Let it out sometimes. If you can’t walk to your mailbox without putting on shoes you’re doing it wrong.
Get your grocery store feet organically.
Talk to that birds they’ll listen. Hug the trees and thank them for your breath.
Tell your water your grateful for it’s substance. It’s hydration.
Bearded Gang 