High above the ground in a 717, I see the rivers, streams,
and shades of corn and pine that make up the right side of the country. Or
maybe they don’t grow corn here. Maybe it’s just some other yellow shit. I do
like that sentence though, so I’ll leave it in. We’re now surrounded by white
(clouds), much like I am when I’m in my small town. I’ll miss the culture, the
people, the diversity, and the food of North Carolina.
Backing up yet again, as some of you know, I drive a pretty
sweet minivan. Currently, I am driving my mother’s Mini Cooper, because she is out
of the country, and I’ve assumed her identity while she’s away. But, my vehicle is a minivan. Months before
we left on this trip, we purchased our tickets, and rented a car; a Hyundai
Accent to be specific. When we landed, got our bags, and walked up to the
garage after checking in at the car-rental desk, there seemed to be some
confusion as to our arrival, and the nice lady informed us that there was only
one vehicle available; a 2016 Dodge Grand Caravan, identical to mine in every
way but color. I was disappointed but I suppose at least I had a vehicle I
would be familiar with while navigating unfamiliar territory.
We departed the airport parking garage, and plotted the
directions to the hotel for our first night, which, unknown to me at the time
of planning, was about 25 miles away from our main destination, and the big
city. I simply Googled hotels in Charlotte, and didn’t pay much attention to
where it was. I must’ve clicked on an ad, but nonetheless, they had beds,
running water, and the first BBQ joint I wrote about nearby, so we were good.
Currently, cruising along at about 500mph, we have
encountered some turbulence. It’s frustrating to type when my computer keeps
moving around. But I’m going to keep at it because I have two hours to kill,
and I’ll likely not write again for a while, as life at home is busier than
ever.
This trip made me think about life at is is: it’s fragile;
simple. At any moment, we could drop out of the sky and we would never remember
any of this. Life is happy, tragic, and full of mistakes. The more I think
about the terrible dinner we had the other night, the more I recall being in
the moment, and laughing and sharing common stories and goals in the business.
I know that if I want to enjoy life as I have, I have to keep doing something
that I love doing for work. And in order for me to love it, I need to keep
shaking things up, trying new ideas, and taking risks. I am currently writing a
menu for a beef and wine tasting in early April, I’m taking a private dinner for
eight into a home at the end of March, and I’m teaching the ServSafe class to
28 people on the 23rd of this month. All of these would have scared
me years ago, but I’ve built myself up to handle the stress of the kitchen
life, and I take these challenges as learning experiences. I’ll still make
mistakes, but I’ll learn from those as well.
I miss my family. I miss the girls, my wife, our dog, and
our home. I can’t wait to see them all, and feel their love around me again. We
will all leave together in about a week for a trip to Oregon to visit my aunt
where we will hike, eat, and bond, and enjoy our time away from work. We will
talk about life, and where it is going to take us.
Over the next few months, I’m going to make a decision about
the blog that I’ve pondered for a while. I went over a month without writing,
and I didn’t really miss it. Readership is down, and time is the scarcest
commodity. I do enjoy writing, but I would like to do it in a different
capacity, and start writing another book. It’s either that, or I stop
altogether, and focus on career and family. That’s the decision I have to make.
I’ll write a post here and there, but I need to take my time and come up with
the best idea for all of us. I have struggled to find recovery-related topics,
and in my mind is growing a story that I don’t want to contain, but I can’t
write publicly because you would all think I’m crazy, or at least really fucked
up.
So, for now, I’m signing off. I’ll post this when I arrive
at home, and I’ll pick it up again when the feeling comes. Until then, eat well.
