Dream come true

For ages we have chatted about what we would serve if we had a restaurant. I fantasized about a customized menu geared toward my way of eating of the moment (gluten-free, vegan, now keto). He fantasized about locally sourced foods featured in unexpected ways. For the most part this was the kind of mindless dreaming we reveled in: buy a camper (or wagon, if you have a handlebar mustache and penchant for mules) and travel the country a la Nick and Rinker Buck if you are him, or Steinbeck if you are me; move to the town with the hot springs and spend our days in sulfur cloud stupors; fill the backyard with miniature farm animals (did you know there were miniature longhorns?) - definitely me; have a team of big horses to feed cattle with. We are excellent dreamers. Creative, detailed. Meanwhile, I pursued my education and stayed the course with my job at the college. He remodeled the house, sang in the church choir, and dabbled in local food.

This year the dabbling led to business cards. A board of directors. A business plan. Presenting to legislative committees. A podcast.

And now, a restaurant. The Local Food Exchange opened about a month ago with a vision, a prayer, and a lot of community support. Suddenly we are shifting gears from lackadaisically imagining what life would be like if... (cue chewing on straw in the front porch swing) to bumping around in the midst of confusing logistics, learning how to tread water a little more effectively each day.

Today, a load of locally-grown potatoes was delivered that will soon become french fries. A little more efficient than the half-day trip out to their farm we did last time. He let his new helpers open for the first time without him today so he could come with me to the blood draw. Our city manager has been up every morning this week for his breakfast.

I keep joking to people that he is failing at retirement, but look at him, peeling boxes of local apples I made into pie that he later traded for a Google business listing (a born trader!): Happy, invigorated. The brain atrophies in the kind of disuse I plan for my retirement: porch, hammock, book. Researchers recommend constant learning, and not the kind of learning that comes from reading an article or two. The kind that comes with trying new things, trying to be something different, stretching who you are.

Norman Mailer wrote: "Every moment of one's existence one is growing into more or retreating into less." We all know that growth and discomfort are inextricable. No growth happens in the comfort zone. Turns out Jack's growth zone comes with a side of gravy and pie for dessert. Come and get it!