Monday, March 23, 2020. The media tends to create its own news. Or otherwise manufacture it. Sometimes, seemingly, out of nothing. It has to, how else to be in business? The flu, then. How in fuck can the flu become news? Again, a certain percentage of the global population has always died from the flu. And the rest get it and suffer and recover and life goes on. The current crazy story of the story will eventually out itself. I’m not a conspiracy theory lunatic, either. It will merely inevitably have to do with some geo-political-financial agenda propagated by the super-rich, the one-percenters who move the world the rest of us have to endure. Somebody with all the stock in the company that cooks up the inevitable flu vaccine, say. Just keep ‘em all as paranoid as hell just a little longer, until we manage to make a fucking killing off this scare. Because when somebody loses, always, somebody else wins.
Meanwhile, it’s always been this way. Which is why even as a kid I couldn’t understand why everyone, it seemed, was always suggesting that I read the newspaper. Back when there were newspapers. And so-called journalists. Now there just seems to be an endless supply of blogging reporters. Which, if you can’t discern the difference between journalism and reporting, well, who cares, because neither is really necessary. Oh, well, if it weren’t for journalists and reporters telling us what’s going on in the world, you say, then we…. What? Wouldn’t know what’s going on in the world? I’ll try to dismiss this type of brainlessness in word or two: what’s going on in the world now that wasn’t going on in the world 40,000 years ago?
Well, you say, scowling, “All kinds of things; you don’t know because you don’t read the news.” Uh huh. Let me guess. There’s a war or two, some minor or major military conflict somewhere in the world, probably in multiple parts of the world, an uprising and tyrannical suppression playing off each other, a resistance against this or that handful of megalomaniacs attempting to fashion the world in their image – the appropriators of the general happiness are running rampant. There are several age-old ethnic conflicts raging over land and resources, perhaps referencing a religious text whereby a god has granted special privileges to this or that ethnic group over this or that other ethnic group and some version of a jihad or a round of inhumanity has been arguably legitimized. There’s a natural catastrophe, namely, earthquake, forest fire, mudslide, volcanic eruption, tsunami, flood, hurricane or asteroid impact. Perhaps an epidemic of some sort threatens. Some lunatic, child, teenager or adult, probably male, went on a lunatic rampage and shot of bunch of innocent people. The stock market is going up or down. Housing prices likewise. The rich are getting richer, the poor are getting poorer and the middle class is disappearing. Climate change is threatening the entire globe with, I don’t know, climate change. There’s a dangerous shortage of [insert fossil fuel here] and we don’t know how any of us will maintain our lifestyle here in the West. China is taking over the world. America is falling like Rome. The President or King or Prince or Queen or Princess of this or that country is discovered to possess human foibles. Another handful of species has gone extinct. These “modern” times, as opposed to all the other times, ostensibly in the past, have been declared “unprecedented.” We’re all special and it’s all about us. Have I missed anything? Oh, this or that artist-craftsman has proffered a tossed off batch of irrelevancy and made a mint from it.
The news, then. Is there something I ought to be paying extra special attention to? Perhaps somebody’s editorial regarding the aforementioned news items? News is bought and sold like any other commodity, if you didn’t realize it. I read somewhere of some previously idealistic wannabe journalist woman whose vocational soul had been more or less crushed by the realization that news stories were categorized into stuff that sells and stuff that doesn’t. Versus the news being proffered as some sort of legitimate window unto the nature of things as they really are, some reliable communication of veracity and truth and, at its best, mindful, compelling, essential analysis. That the news somehow informs, even instructs. Give me a break. The exploding tanker truck on the highway sells and the story of the little old lady donating a batch of cookies to the local shelter doesn’t. And I’m not making a judgement upon the legitimacy of either. It just comes down to what snags your attention in the midst of your oh so busy day. In these “unprecedented” times.
The outfall of the virus that shall not be named except to call it what it is: the flu. I’m thinking, as I stroll around downtown in violation of the Mayor’s decree that we all indeed shelter in place (what a phrase!) which is to say stay in your damn house and don’t come out until we tell you to, that wow, all these closed up little shps and businesses, they’re history, done, out-of-business even if they don’t know it yet. It’s not as if your restaurants, coffee shops and bookstores are capable of tapping their savings to survive while nobody buys their stuff. Small businesses, in general, I ought to know, don’t have any savings. They survive day to day, essentially hand to mouth. Often on loans. Anyway, it’s baffling to me that a country, any country, would choose to “save” a million or so of it’s otherwise doomed population (every year the flu kills a certain percentage of the population with otherwise contributing health problems) with the outcome of ruining, what, thirty million of its resident’s livelihoods and, eventually, lives. So that there we’ll all be, supposedly, healthy and happy standing tall over, as they say, absolutely nothing. Let’s see: no job, no money, no food, no house, no toilet paper. No future. No life. Oh, well, we saved that million folks who the virus was gonna kill. Right. And now you as well as those million folks are gonna die a cruel death by way of starvation or suicide or by getting gunned down in your own home by a desperate neighbor in desperate need of your stash of toilet paper.
All I can say is, since when were we not allowed to endure the flu without the government and legislators trying save my from myself? Or something? I mean, what in hell is going on around here? The Mayor telling me to stay in my house. Fuck you, Mayor, this ‘ain’t China and hence you can’t tell me what to do. Well, you can try, but I’m here to tell you I’m going to go outside and perhaps get within six feet of somebody if I so choose. Are you going to somehow have me arrested and put in jail? And, hey, would that be news?
Dead down towns. Cancelled educations, cancelled careers, concerts and art shows. Ruined businesses. An ensuing economic depression. All in the name of the suppression of the flu. Which isn’t fatal. I’m just wondering how long this experiment will proceed benignly and with a modicum of rationality before folks start suffering enough to start taking what they want without regard to who owns it; before real panic and irrational fear sets in. Not of a silly virus, mind you, but of losing everything they own and every dream they ever had. I suppose the newness, the little thrill that a big change inspires, has to wear off. Folks have to get the sense of a little vacation from regular life out of their system, I suppose. Enjoying their little vacations and working from home lifestyle.
Angie has worked from home for some ten years, on and off, mostly on. And she’ll be the first to tell you that it takes practice, a skill set and a talent or at least a flair that not everyone possesses. She likes dogs and likes to help walk the neighbor’s dog and play frisbee with it in the park and she encountered some woman there the other day with a puppy who explained, Well, since I’m working at home now, I figured I’d get a dog; except I didn’t realize it would be so hard.
This is the way people think, I guess. That something changed and I’ll just get a puppy to fill in the gaps, ease the transition, make me feel not so alone. Or bored. Or something. After only a couple days of change, of things being different and probably not permanently. Because, well, damn, I didn’t expect that owning a dog would require me to do something except, well, enjoy the cuteness of the dog. Dogs are companions, aren’t they? Yes, just like your kids are. Sometimes. When they aren’t wrecking your life with all their demands and neediness and tearing up the living room rug. And when you go back to the office, if your job still exists after all this nonsense, what happens to the dog then? My point being, I’m always surprised, stupid me, when adults seem to possess the attention span, lack of foresight, lack of wisdom and intelligence level of a child. But, then again, these are “unprecedented times.” Aren’t they?
It snowed last night, enough to cover the ground and it’s been continuing to snow this morning. “This snow,” said Angie, “on top of everything else… it seems like too much.” Right on.
The vintage post that follows, when I reread some of it, makes me sad for the failure, for the Herculean effort that went into it all and sad for the broken dreams that I held so dear. None of it worked out as planned and none of it for the better, as far as I can tell. To this day, ten years later, the whole thing seems a tragedy and an unnecessarily fucked up mess. And then I fret that my writing is just as doomed, just as desperately, impossibly impossible to make happen. We want things, work for things, “You work your life out!” as some character in Twelve Angry Men declares. And then you die, perhaps nothing but a failure. I don’t know. I wish to hell the HH story had a happy, inspirational ending.
DOP1 (2010-11) VINTAGE POST:
Old & New in A2
April 17, 2011. It’s Sunday night and while we’ve been in Ann Arbor since Friday evening, we’re just now starting to feel a little like ourselves. We were completely shagged out upon getting here. We picked up an air mattress on the trip up and other than two folding chairs, a card table, and a duffle bag of clothes each, we have none of our stuff. So we entered this old rental house of ours, 1433 E Park Place, and crashed and burned onto this bullshit mattress with all the strangeness of the new abode freaking us out and making me think I just should’ve stayed in Texas. Strange rooms. Strange sounds. Strange everything. We’re tired to the bone after the travel. The first day of driving was easy, but the next it just rained and rained and it was windy as fuck and the traffic sucked and wrestling that damn car hauler just wore me out. I don’t like this rental house at all. Too old, creepy and fucked up for me, but the location is good. Still, we’re paying a price for following our bliss.
So we’re tired, irritable, sore and stiff from driving 1300 miles in two days and feeling mighty ambivalent about our new little biophycomythological project right now. Like we just may have fucked ourselves. But we’re going to try to stick with this and try to even enjoy it, because this is our myth now and we’re going to live it out with guts and heart.
Just when we were digging into the concept of living like heathens for seven days before our moving van shows up, the driver calls me and asks if he can deliver our shit tomorrow! His schedule got fucked but it’s a break for us. Our stuff will never fit in this house properly, but hell, we’ll make it work. Just to get furniture and clothes and shit here will be great. We partied last night with Nikki, Eddie, and my brother – beers, bars, Red Wing playoffs and pizza. Angie and me were still tired but I knew we’d howl at the moon anyway, it was fun but left us even more tired for our scheduled meeting with the cart folks at Union Hall Kitchen this morning at 9AM. Ouch, hung over. But the meeting went well, and got us jazzed. I have to admit that I’ve been struggling to get in gear and I’m experiencing waves of fear – just this meeting kind of freaked me out – I didn’t want to go for some reason. But it’s foodie shit; it’s what I want to do and these folks are like-minded, so we’re amongst friends. Also just being in the kitchen and seeing the cart court gave us good vibes. We’re no worse off than anyone else and maybe even better off than some – Sans Street surprised us by telling us that they’re having trouble with the County Health Dept. regarding their menu – they’re just now submitting their application, etc. and they’re finding out they can’t grill stuff on an open-air cart (which we knew from our previous meetings). I feel bad for those girls, but they’ll work it out. Here’s me in Union Hall Kitchen after the meeting:
Angie and I have been at each other too much – the strain is difficult to manage without bringing out some of the worst in a person. I wish I could be better at handling this and quit being such a dick. Our cushy isolation in 3409 is over and I knew I’d miss it a little. This ‘ain’t easy, making this huge change. But I keep seeing that we’re moving forward, step by step and it’s our new life starting. Growing pains at forty-six years old. Hell. There is a price to pay for everything, and if I think about all this it’s tough, but not anywhere near as freaky bad as working for the man in a fucked up job like I’ve had my whole life. This is our dream we’re making a reality and it’s coming to be, one step at a time, which is damn amazing.
I write this stuff and I’m struck by my lack of expressiveness – I seem to be just a mechanic, adding no richness to the story – the words don’t add value as much as just spell out the events. I’d much prefer to be more “writerly” and create something that draws you in and paints pictures. But maybe that would suck too. There might be some advantage to the dead-pan delivery if it serves to simply describe the biophycomythological process in real-time, as an example of how this works when it’s applied. The definition of biophycomythology after all is “the study and application of being who you are.” I want to show how this works, and my own life is the best example – I can add value to this concept and the works of Campbell, Canfield, Coelho, etc, in this way. Otherwise, I’m just regurgitating what they’ve discussed; analyzing and discussing, but not creating anything new for someone to use. So I guess here it is, the study and application of being who I am, with the strange, weird, odd, goofy, boring, curious, tedious, and maybe at least occasionally interesting thoughts and actions that make up the living out of my own biophycomythology. I hope one day that it can help someone else. Even by the everyday ordinariness that it probably suffers from – we can’t all be rock stars, we can’t all discover the South Pole, we can’t all invent must-have computer software, we can’t all cure illness, feed the hungry, end wars. But we can be who we are, which is important work and the best way to go through life, for us and everyone around us. Denying yourself is bad energy and it permeates not only your own life obviously, but the lives of others and really the rest of the world if you ask me, maybe the universe. Get in line with who you ought to be and there’s a chance for life during the time that you have (and maybe in some way beyond your own time) to be better than it would otherwise be.
April 18, 2011. A dusting of snow. Just to make sure we know we’re no longer in the Gulf Coast. Our stuff should be showing up today. We thought it might be good to have it all get sold off or maybe burn up in some freaky transportation accident so we wouldn’t have to worry about it or deal with it anymore. Stuff is a hassle. It’s also a weakness. One gets so attached to shit that means nothing. Yet we need things, carrots, prizes, treasures, to help drive us, push us, pull us, towards something, mostly the future, so you don’t just dry up and sit in bed all day. Life is action, it can’t be denied, you can’t deny the physicality of it. Anyway, must get going. The internet technician is supposed to show up, I have to clear shit out for the movers, I have to go to the hardware store for a fitting so I can road test my food cart and I absolutely must get coffee….
We went to the Small Giants theme dinner at the Roadhouse tonight. It was sold out, but I emailed Ari and he hooked us up with Joannie, a Manager for ZCoB Catering, who apparently was doing the scheduling and event planning – she got us right in and bingo, we had a great night meeting Ari again – it seemed like forever since we’d seen him at Camp Bacon, and he had a Camp Bacon shirt on! And they’re doing a ZCoB luau with the folks from Old Lahaina at the Roadhouse – the Hawaiians are flying in to A2 to put on the Polynesian show and eats similar to their event in Maui.
Anyway, we ate well of course, drank, and listened to Ari and Bo Burlingham talk about biz and small giants. I was impressed with the Roadhouse outdoor/indoor seating improvements – a “temporary” enclosure as far as the Health Department is concerned – Ari gave the wink wink as he explained that. We talked to Chef Alex Young, and a little bit with Mateo from Jasper Farms – who with his brother have made a name for themselves in publications like Saveur and The Art of Eating with their great cloth-bound cheddar cheese that they are cellaring in Cabot cellars. I think they’re concerned about managing their own growth from the questions Mateo was posing to Bo about how big is “giant” and how one defines a small giant. Mateo actually slammed Ben & Jerry’s as a corporate sell-out, even though they, as native Vermonters, grew up eating that ice cream. I’m already learning what it’s like to be in business and the pushes and pulls that you have to be aware of that change your business and your vision into things that you may not want. I’ve sold nothing yet, so it’s good to prepare my mind for the temptations and distractions that success, should I experience some of it, will provide. I must remember that HH is about putting out the best food that I can – my most heartfelt and skillful attempt at good memorable food for good people.
Ari was great – just the best guy you could ever know and he’s so fucking successful and great at being successful. He is the living and breathing example of what he writes about – totally authentic and it blows me away how big his heart is and how much fucking knowledge he has. He talked about visioning and some other stuff from his book, which I just really admire. He’s a great guide – the best I think for what I’m trying to do with HH. He seemed honestly glad to see us and I know he’s not into the socializing thing too much, same as me, but he handles it better than me and makes you feel great about things. He seems please that, as he said “it’s happening.” Indeed. I’m glad I’ve got him in the “Backfat” tab of my HH website (the backfat is where it’s at” thank-you list). I referred to him as “big-hearted-tree-of-knowledge-guy.”
We saw Paul Saginaw talking to the Jasper folks – he and Ari and Bo had, I’m sure been spending most of the day with those folks who had attended the two-day Small Giants seminar – too pricey for me at this point at almost $1000 – I’ll need to earn my way into some ZCoB seminars by selling some fucking food, man. I’d love to enjoy this HH adventure and make a buck too. Not for glory or wealth, but for sustainability and yes, for my pride – to show that I can do it. If we can hang in there for the first season, then even stick around for three years total, then maybe that cart will be paid off and I can stand tall in front of folks like Ari as a fellow entrepreneur who’s been in the trenches, albeit for just a fraction of the time, and show some skill and talent, and earn my way a little.
Calling it quits would be on our own terms, and I could maybe get a job at ZCoB with the credibility of having owned and ran my own respectable small food biz. I might need to get a job this fall after cart season, and it’d be very nice to have my VOG be playing out well for HH. Rather than asking for a job with my hat in my hand and my tail between my legs after having taken a financial and critical pounding in the field.
We left the dinner feeling good about being in A2 and embarking on our HH adventure. Angie stood up, made some comments about visioning and it seemed like folks could see her passion for the concept and for Ari’s ideas – she ended up talking to a couple attendees, and she seemed jazzed by the biz vibe and getting involved with those folks and especially seeing Ari. I think we’re going to do well for ourselves biophycomythologically at least and that’s really what we’re in it for – to engage life as we ought to – to be who we are.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011. 10:30PM. Angie is working from home until her office is ready at NSF. She’s in no hurry to get back to that bullshit culture. We loved and hated the isolation we had in Friendswood. Our days were pretty much to ourselves. Sometimes it seemed like the perfect life: tunes, cooking, writing, walking, reading, chilling, travelling, kundalini, gym. I’ve been out of bed every weekday at 6:30AM with Angie, just as if I was going to work, which in a sense of course I have been. I just haven’t been getting paid.
The movers have gone and this house is now like a fucking overstuffed olive. Too much shit, too many boxes. We had it good down in Texas with our other house – elbow room up the ass. God, I’m hating my writing. I’m just talking and not writing anything. This is just therapy I think as we try to keep chugging. Soon enough, a week will have gone by since we arrived in A2 and then HH will be operational and I’ll have had my first sale, then a month, then the first cart season will end and we’ll have a hell of a story to tell for better or for worse.
April 22, 2011. So here we are at a week since we arrived in A2. Fucking crazy to think we would’ve been toughing it out on a leaky air mattress all this time with the movers showing up tomorrow, which was their plan. Now, we’ve got three-quarters of our shit unpacked at least and have been sleeping on a real bed. This whole adventure just seems nuts and then at the same time I know it must be done – we’re living our personal myths, and the living of them, versus just the thinking and planning of them, is a strange experience, at least for me. I keep thinking I’m supposed to be doing something I hate, or at least don’t like so I can feel normal. Which for forty-some years has been in a state of schism more or less. Yeah, same old story regarding the topic of this book; I think it may be time to shut the fuck up about this stuff. Anyway, I got the tunes hooked up this evening and that single accomplishment, no matter what time or place in my life I’ve ever been – college dorm or new house or old house, whatever – allows me to feel like a human.
Today I got the license plate for the food cart – $75.00 and I probably shouldn’t even have bothered, nobody else does probably, but I’m not getting pulled over driving the cart around and getting fined or some shit. Whatever, I’m just trying to keep the loose ends from dragging me down – doing things right as much as I can, I’m not in this to fuck the system every chance I get. We heard from Nikki that Mark H. said HH has their shit together (in so many words) and he thinks we’re going to be successful. It’s great to hear that because most of the time we think we’re the “cow’s tail” (as Angie says) with this thing, like we’re the most amateurish and clueless. But I think our organizational skills and life experience are paying off at least with the start up – if it’s one thing I’ve done it’s start-ups – and I just can’t wait to start cooking and proving ourselves, that will definitely be the acid test. But I do enjoy all this stuff, the creation of the vision obviously but the details too regarding all the shit that you gotta do to be in business, even one as tiny as HH. I want to have my shit together with provisions, sources, vendors, supplies, sundries, web site, communications, credit card transactions – anything I can do in advance of all hell breaking loose when we open – then I’ll be balls out with the food and in some unknown depth regarding how to manage my time and money to make this thing profitable.
I’m trying to enjoy it too – really enjoy it – in a mindful way so that like Hugh MacLeod wrote I can “enjoy obscurity while it lasts.” The vision is to become “successful” but it’s really hitting home with me, especially since reading Bo Burlingham’s book “Small Giants” that you have to be mindful from the get-go about what you want out of a biz because you just might in fact be successful, and you’ll need to know where to go next with the fucking project. Ari and Paul managed their way through the changes and the success about as well as anybody could, if you ask me – what a story of getting it right – their twenty-nine years of work just speaks for itself now – what a powerhouse of mojo. If I could grab a little bit of that for HH and create something I’m proud of before I kick off, wow, it’s hard for me to envision. I need to work on seeing real success for HH – I’ve got so many fucking doubts. If I can’t believe in my heart-mind that it can happen; if I can’t project myself forward into the same levels of success as my guides have attained, then I’m still just limiting myself.
It still often seems like exciting success is something only other people have, that my successes will remain middle class bullshit. Towing the line, keeping a job, making a living, staying out of debt. Those are some lame-ass visions of “success” I know and I’m trying like hell to get use to the idea of blowing the top off of things so to speak – to generating some real mojo in my own way, without putting some biophycomythological mask on and becoming somebody else in order to succeed. Guys like Ari have proven that you can indeed be who you are generate rewards and a life that is commensurate with your efforts. That’s it too – the commensurate rewards thing – what does that mean? I tend to aim too low – I want to keep looking at myself as worthy of all the things I want, which are the things I’ve got on my vision board. I’m reminded right now to keep that damn thing in front of my face and work it over if I need to – it doesn’t take more than a few days it seems before you can get off track. My guides are rock-solid though and I’m glad for that.
April 25, 2011. Angie’s first day back at her NSF office. It’s an easy drive from 1433, but a drive nonetheless and it’s a big change after twenty-eight months of her working from home. A change for me too after sixteen months of unemployment. I dropped her off and we saw Nikki and Jake and all the other folks filing in, the parking lot crammed with vehicles. NSF, a not-for-profit, continues to make one, good economy or bad, so it’s “bread and butter” for us financially, though I know Angie really doesn’t want to be in proximity to her bosses, who would?
Still, I find it difficult to reconcile this HH adventure and this unconventional life we’ve chosen against the more familiar work-a-day grind of corporate life that I know so well. I found myself contemplating just getting a regular job again – fucking crazy thoughts. I think it’s just being back in Michigan, seeing the same old places and faces, that continues to allow the past to keep a foothold in my future. I know I have to accept this and incorporate the reality of living my myth here, despite having convinced myself that I had permanently moved on. I’ve “backtracked” before, started over – coming back “home” from NYC, going back to college, and I’m not proud of having “failed” yet again. I don’t know why I’m driven to leave this state and remain “out there” in some other part of the world – it’s just seems to be something within me that continues to look outward for something. I’m writing this out to relieve the anxiety of this change – with Angie going back to that office she doesn’t like, not being here with me all day like we were used to, the breaking up of a good that we came to enjoy. Trading that life for this one, discarding the bad shit but also the handful of good things that we had in TX. Isolation, space, weather, time and that great house. Today our real estate person will call and verify that we’re going to lease to the couple who submitted their application to us. It’s a chance, the only chance we’ve had all these months, to get the 3409 mortgage paid for – $2250/month – no small chunk of change and if we don’t do it, then we risk really fucking up our HH plan. But it really sucks that we haven’t been able to sell that house and close the TX story more completely, financially and biophycomythologically – I’ve been unable to resolve why that place won’t let us go, VOG or not, there’s some hold it wants to maintain on us. I can’t clearly see why that home should indeed remain a part of our lives – why it hasn’t sold and why we would own a home in TX indefinitely now as landlords. I guess I could look at it as being the facility manager I always thought I’d be good at.
But should we give up the good, which is renting, to go for the great, which is selling? Part of our HH VOG includes the hard financial reality of needing to unload that mortgage to allow us to succeed. But this lease is a two-year commitment and I know that once 3409 becomes a rental, it will be more difficult to sell it – it’s possible that we’ll be renting it forever after. If home values increase again like they used to, then it would be a legitimate real estate “investment” but its value may never return, let alone increase. We discussed how we could someday make enough money with HH to afford to live in A2 and keep the TX house too, as a southern retreat for us when we’re tired of MI winter. It’s a lot to ask of a dream, maybe too much. We could let our tenant’s lease with us expire, get a contractor to fix things up like new and use it ourselves. But why would we? We don’t like that area of the country. What to do? I just don’t think we have a choice – we’ve had absolutely no interest in the home from anyone but these folks. None. If we try to hold out for a sale, we might really get fucked and jeopardize any future for HH.
The biophycomythological work and vogging we’ve done is paying off but it’s not magic in the sense that it relieves you from having to make decisions when they relate to things outside of your control. Yes, our big, important, critical decisions of how we want to live and work have been made, which is a relief, but those are things (thoughts at least) that we can control – stuff like housing markets will remain outside of our control and it’s up to us to accept that and make decisions that keep us in line with our biophycomythology and VOGs. So, as I write this, I think the answer for 3409 in TX is to indeed lease it because we’ve got things to do in life and we can’t let that mortgage payment hold us back – it’s only money, and we need that tool right now. That’s the thing too – the slow startup to HH is both good and bad – good because we’ve not been forced to scramble forward before we’re ready; bad because it allows us room to continue to doubt our vision and question what the fuck we’re doing. We’re out to sea, on that ferryboat to transcendence, and yes, I’m telling you now it is as scary as Campbell said it might be. But physical activity can ease the mind, and once we start doing it, once I start cooking and serving food, like so many scary things in life, the fears, which are based on lack of knowledge, will subside and be replaced with facts. I know there aren’t any problems related to HH that we can’t handle – and we need to enjoy this. So, I’ve written my way out of the lingering anxiety of what we’re doing – WE ARE DOING IT after all, we’re starting our second week in A2, we’ve got the cart and the plan and the VOGs and the guides and with leasing the TX house, we’ve got the money we need, so let’s go!