Up and down the Northeast coast, along the I-95 corridor that can switch from rural to industrial in the blink of an eye.
Up and down the mountain - a dormant volcano I call home.
In a rental car, or an enormous SUV, or an even more enormous food truck.
Traveling, working, learning, playing, every day something new.
Something frustrating.
Something terrifying.
Something exhilarating.
Sometimes all of those things and more.
The truck makes me so happy. I am content. I feel empowered. Having a business that is mobile puts me in the literal and figurative driver's seat of my life. I am still figuring out how to steer, and where to go.
And then, the phone rang. Because of course it did. Meet Angus. My co-pilot. He hasn't quite figured out Google maps, and he falls asleep as soon as I turn on the engine.....but we're getting there.
People think I am insane. More insane than my usual crazy self.
"A food truck and a baby? What are you thinking?" is a pretty common line of questioning.
But really, it's been fine. It's been great. It's been crazy.
Just like usual.
Because here is the thing. Every opportunity we have to foster a newborn, is a chance for us to contribute to society in a real and meaningful way. Which is the best way as far as I am concerned.
And also, it is really, really hard to say no when they call.
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