Cat-dog by Noel Aker

Who Knew I Wasn't Supposed To Amount To Much?

I had lunch recently at The Village Anchor with friend and Kentucky’s Second Lady (I guess that’s how one references the Lt. Gov’s wife) Madeline Abramson.  It was a pleasure to spend time with someone who's been a face of our community since 1989 when she and the now Lt. Gov. married.  We discussed, among other things, how children in rural communities might better be exposed to social, educational and (in general) growth opportunities outside of their current environments.

Madeline Abramson with Kevin Grangier at
TheVillage Anchor Restaurant

Madeline shared with me a number of successful state and local programs that drive exposure of teens to the arts, and various career-oriented programs like one which showcases opportunities in the hospitality industry.  Many of these programs team with  school systems to determine which students are best suited for said opportunities.  As one might guess, the students who are tagged as achievers (based on any number of legitimate criteria) are the ones who typically become candidates for these types of activities.

My question is, how do we expose those who are not necessarily at the top of the achiever list to opportunities that will foster growth and perhaps lay a seed of curiosity?   Take me, for example.  When I was a junior in high school, in a confusing conversation with my advisor, she said to me that I would be best suited for a vocational school; college probably wasn't in my cards (this given my not-so-stellar grades and my significant ADHD).  While I have nothing against vocational schools--they are perfectly right for many people--that path just  didn't seem right for me.  In an act of defiance, I applied to the University of Oxford (UK) because it was the most unlikely school I could think of (I wrote essays, took tests and lied about how it was that I would pay for it), and I got accepted.  My life-book has grown ever since, with that experience defining its first chapter.   

Point is, I wasn't one of the kids who would naturally be chosen to participate in extracurricular growth opportunities, or who was even on the top-25 list of those most likely to succeed.  I was one of those kids, however, who sought exposure and new experiences, and knew in my heart I would be successful at whatever it is I did...if I were just given the chance to do it.   Or even knew that there was a chance to do it.

Fast forward 30 years and I wonder how it is I (we) can help teens--not necessarily just the obvious picks--in communities that do not have the resources or in some cases even the inclination to enlighten kids to environments different than the ones to which they're accustomed.  I can't help but wonder how my life would have turned out if I had taken seriously the words of my counselor, or if I were one of the kids who was never told that I could do whatever I wanted, wherever I wanted (I am blessed that my own parents shared this message frequently).  

For many years now I've toyed with the vision of a program that develops teens by doing nothing more than exposing them to new environments and, therefore, opportunities.  If a spark of curiosity can drive just one student to study underwater biology in Florida; one girl to write music with a composer in New York; or one boy to want to do something other than that which might be expected of him in his rural hometown, then what a powerful--affective--program could happen.  And what a chilling motivator for an overlooked teen who is just on the brink of being "picked," but knows he isn't going to make the cut.   

If anybody else is curious, or sees the same opportunity, let's grab a beer and make it happen!    

Surprise At Dinner With My Long-Time Friends

You may recall that a few weeks ago I visited with my long-time and dear friends Wade and Betty Mountz and combed through Betty's hundreds of family recipes.  I worked for Wade just out of college (back in the day he was president of the American Hospital Association and, believe it or not, part of my colorful education and background is in healthcare administration).  Anyway, in his AHA role Wade spent a lot of time on Capital Hill and became fond of the Senate Bean Soup (that dates back to 1901) from the Senate Restaurant in the U.S. Capitol.  So last night I pulled a quick one on Wade and Betty (with my friends Sonny and Charlotte Tharp) and hosted dinner for the four at The Village Anchor.  To surprise the Mountz', Chef Patrick prepared both the Senate Bean Soup and another of Wade and Betty's favorites-- his grandmother Claudia Mountz' Dutch Lettuce Salad that goes back to 1935.   Here's the recipe for the Senate Bean Soup, if you're interested--it was simple, but absolutely amazing!  Thanks to Chef Patrick who prepared the foods that made our dinner special, and to Wade and Betty for sharing their evening, and their fond memories of two of their favorite dishes!

United State Senate Restaurant at The U.S. Capital

The Famous Senate Restaurant Bean Soup, 1901

Take two pounds of small Michigan Navy Beans, wash, and run through hot water until Beans are white again.  Put on the fire with four quarts of hot water.  Take one and one-half pounds of Smoked Ham Hocks, boil slowly for approximately three hours in a covered pot.  Braise one onion, chopped, in a little butter and, when light brown, put in Bean Soup.  Season with salt and pepper; then serve. Do not add salt until ready to serve.  (Eight persons.)

Okay. This is funny....

KRA Recognizes The Village Anchor's Cheoffrey

Just finishing The Village Anchor's second year of operation, it's great to continually be recognized among the best restaurants in the region.  There's so much work that goes into developing and operating a restaurant, and so many more touch points than any business in which I've been involved in the past.  This month's KRA industry publication highlights Village Anchor Chef Geoff Heyde as a "Chef that Sizzles."  He is deserving, for sure.  Not sure where to find the link, but here's a copy of the brief article which came out this week.   kg

Johnny Depp, Gonzo And An Old Black T

Kentucky-born Hunter S. Thompson was a chromatic character.  Until this week, though, my familiarity with him was limited to my Godson Chris' homage of the guy's work; an old paperback of "The Curse of Lono" on my nightstand; and scant knowledge of his unconventional friendship with his fellow Kentuckian Johnny Depp (their relationship began with Depp blowing up propane tanks in Thompson's yard, and ended with the actor bankrolling the writer's request to have his ashes shot out of a cannon).  I became a little more familiar with Thompson this past week when my friends Vijay Dias and Chapman Montgomery hung out with me at Bellewood on Tuesday evening.  Seems Chapman is a long-time Gonzo fan (Gonzo is the name given to Thompson's style of journalism), and Vijay actually has a tie to the guy--a friend of his was Thompson's best friend and the last person the writer called before he took his life.  That tie, of course, accentuated the stories on Tuesday evening, on my front lawn sipping bourbon, about a guy who lived life pretty much as it was presented to him, allowing few into his world, and labeling even fewer "friend."   Anyway... in white adirondack chairs beneath a dogwood-filtered moon under which we puffed Vijay's Indian bidis, we friends did what friends do, and pontificated Depp and Thompson, Bollywood, international soccer, x-relationships and, in part, each's colorful journey from boy to man.

Out of the millions we happen upon in our lifetime, I wonder what sparks the connection to just a few?  What makes a friendship elastic enough to bend to our complex lives, and enduring enough to withstand cracks and avoid breaks?  Depp and Thompson found synergy in their Kentucky roots, their friendship energized by the coming together of two eccentrics from the same part of the world--even with no particular fondness for said part of the world.  My friends Vijay and Chapman have a durable bond, for years resistant to geography, girlfriends and simple routine.  And Chris and I have a bond that remains solid, unyielding to three decades of class projects, puberty, rock bands and his recent marriage.

I can't help but query what attracts my friends to me?  My pal Adam once described me as  "an amazing mess of misunderstood."  I'm pretty selfish when it comes to my day.  And I rarely carve out quality time with my friends and, when I do, I'm generally preoccupied and focused on everything other than them--easily irritated and patience thin.  It's odd, really, that so many accept me for who I am, swallowing the quirks, mis-wiring and erratic behavior that comes with me -- my "gifts with purchase," if you will.  :) 

To better understand my quirky self and my own friendships under the scrutiny of philosophers, I recently read  "Emerson and Thoreau:  Figures of Friendship".  The book defines how the two friends not only wrote about friendship, but the lengths to which they went to affirm it, always recognizing it's potential as a source for deep pain.  In an environment that recklessly affirms friends with the click of a button (guilty), the book solidified for me the importance of driving friendships past surface, distinguishing heavily between the "ideal" friend and the "actual" person.  My take (and I enjoyed the read):  I can't even be what "I" want to be, much less what my friends want me to be.  :)

The next evening following our night of pontification, just before dinner at Chapman's, Vijay stepped out of the room for a few minutes and returned with a t-shirt.  "I have something for your Godson," he said, handing over a worn black t with writing on its backside.  "This was a gift directly from Hunter to my friend," he said, "I think Chris would like it."  I agreed, and arranged for a surprise gift-give the next day.

The following day at The Village Anchor when the two met for the first time, Vijay presented the t-shirt to Chris.  I watched an unsuspecting bond begin to materialize as Vijay shared his own experience with Hunter S. Thompson; Chris clinging to the words.   At the heart of this was a moment that probably happens a hundred times a day for each of us, that I know I fail to acknowledge.  Like this morning at coffee when a young woman asked the meaning of my tattoo; yesterday afternoon at the restaurant when a customer invited me to sit by her pool; or just a few minutes ago when I asked the guy next to me what he was reading.   I wonder what it is that would have inspired one of these chance meetings to advance to even the slightest of friendship?  And I wonder what it is that kept me from doing so?  

I wonder, too, if Vijay and Chris have friended each other on Facebook.

Nashville, White Castle and Dolly

Facebook post July 9, 2012.     Okay. So I've maybe seen better days. I've spent the afternoon in Nashville making things happen. I started out with a cup of java that I spilled on me person. Fortunately I had a semi-wadded up shirt in the back seat that had a tolerable amount of dog hair on it. I used a pad of sticky Post-It-Notes to get what I could off. It didn't really do the trick, however, and I had to wear a sport coat all afternoon -- it's not exactly sport coat weather. I then spent some time with the Fabulous (capital F) publisher/editor of Nashville Lifestyles Stacie Standifer. We updated about moving and shaking in the Music City. (I don't think she suspected the coffee spill or the slightly dog-hair-infested shirt or she never would have entertained my mover/shaker update). After some serious project review with Stacie, I next talked myself out of a ticket going down a one-way ally somewhere in downtown Nashville near a White Castle (sad, I know, that WC is my marker -- but I'm a chill-billy, remember) -- the Kentucky tags helped me out of the ticket; the California driver's license I suspect helped more (I know, I gotta fix that). Actually, I guess the day was turning out pretty good considering the coffee incident and the almost-ticket. But the really great part of the day was seeing some entourage of busses with what I'm sure was a collage of fancy music people (it sorta rekindled memories of LA, like when I saw Madonna yelling at a parking attendant because he couldn't get the garage gate arm to lift). Point is, I went into what I call corner-gawk-mode--you know where you look out of the corner of the eye, trying desperately not to move your head so nobody knows you are pathetically and unnaturally looking to catch a glimpse of the goings on--often times based around a celebrity, or somebody who has toilet paper trailing from their pants. Actually, most people go into corner-gawk-mode when they're driving past a highway accident, or when a friend gets pulled over. It's a horrible thing, but what normal person can't confess to that? Anyway, the brief gawking gave me no clues. I have opted to believe that Nashville Queen Dolly Parton was in one of the busses giving voice lessons to an up-and-comer starlet. The other bus probably included her clothes, wigs, nail polish, etc. (Dolly's, not the starlet's.) The third bus I imagine was full of fans who each won a ticket by singing a verse of a Dolly song on a radio station morning show (don't laugh; I've planned those promotions). Dolly or not, it was the perfect finale to what ended up being not so bad of a day in Nashville! You should visit this fabulous city…it's colorful and high-spirited, and the cops are pretty darn nice to Kentuckians! I'm headed home now! :) kg

My Harvest

Facebook post July 9 2012.  Here's my first and likely only "Kentucky Harvest." It's going on the cover of my book: "One Dry Summer For A Measly Pot of Soup."

My Journey With I-40

Facebook post July 7, 2012.   So I can't tell if my life has been sheltered, privileged, or both. Earlier this week I attended a party in The Highlands at which I made a terrible faux pas (it was my mouth….again). The celebration was built in part around a young woman's birthday. Upon the make-a-wish segment of the traditional blowing-out-the-candles ritual, I said "Make sure you wish for something realistic….not like to lose a hundred pounds or anything like that," (or some equally numbing fascimile). Of course, in hind-site, I realize this was thoughtless and stupid but, also of course, I meant nothing by it except to inject a bit of humor in what otherwise had the makings of somewhat of a stale tradition. I don't know the young woman very well, and didn't and don't see her as anything other than an attractive young woman. I didn't notice her weight or any issue with it, and, certainly if I had, or if there were, I would not have made such a comment, thoughtless and stupid or otherwise. Net net, I created a stir. Confirmation came moments later when the offended's husband cornered me in the kitchen to berate me, loudly and candidly, citing something about bashing my f'in face in. It was at that moment I realized the seriousness of my action. I quickly made the necessary apologies to the affected parties…and fled. First, and this is the foundation of my opening question of being sheltered….I've never been yelled at before. I mean in-your-face, I'm-going-to-kill-you yelled at. It took me back a bit, and the best response I could muster was immediate retreat. (My quick decision to abandon ship was built around traditional PR principles with which I had grown up: quickly accept blame, keep your words disciplined, allow them to talk about you, give it time, and it will likely fade, if not go away). 
I didn't drive to the party and, as such, I wasn't driving home. So I began the 16.2 mile trek to Anchorage from the Highlands, at a snails pace, with no identification, accoutrements or liquids, at 9:30 p.m. Five hours later, I landed at 1116 Bellewood Rd. (this is the part where I question privilege), having encountered vagabonds, police, underpass communities and citizens of a world to which I have never been privy. I now know where sidewalks begin and end, where darkness hides pathways riddled with cavities, and how teenage passers by can cut the soul of a 40-something year-old man with the blade of a simple few words.
With little time to contemplate my next move (certainly a manse on 10 manicured acres in the center of Anchorage was not the place to do it), I decided to head to the mountains on a journey to understand people, me and…in general, life (remember this comes only weeks after a questionable version of finality to a relationship in which I was deeply hurt). I packed a bag, left a tub of food for the cat, made my departure known to just a few, and began my six-hour journey to North Carolina. 
As the sun paid tribute to the glorious Blue Ridge Mountains that define Asheville (my car taken on a shaggy puppy that had found its way onto I-40) and with a water-downed Diet Mountain Dew that I acquired hours earlier just outside of Tennessee, I began my spiritual exercise. I thought about why people yell at people, I thought about relationships and the pain that accompany them. I thought about why it's so difficult for me to trust and wonder why I hurt the ones I love the most. I thought about the pregnant kitten I took in days before and wondered how she was faring in the 100-degree heat. And I thought about what I was going to do with the astray whelp that I had fostered for the day and that I had insipidly named I-40. 
After only hours of reflection, contemplation and some degree of spiritual pondering where I worked to understand people, life, relationships, decisions and things, I shook the dirt from my pants, rounded up I-40, and began the second half of my journey--this part to home. 

From the perspective of a lost soul atop a ridge, intimated by the massiveness of nature in the most humid place I've ever suffered contemplation, my accomplishments are benign. Besides salvaging a puppy that I relinquished to an altruistic Day's Inn agent on the skirt of town, I'm pretty sure I don't understand people and their actions any more than I did when I started. I'm no less frustrated by the constants of life, and I will continue to hurt the ones I love the most, and likely vise versa. I do, however, have a greater appreciation for the correct word at the correct time; I understand that relationships may never be understood; and I can't nor should I change that which makes me, me; and I shouldn't expect others to change that which makes them, them. I also know that pregnant kittens are helpless, dogs on highways are scared, and that my calves still hurt from my 16-mile trek. :)

Sacrifice

Facebook post July 6, 2012.   Somebody said to me the other day that I was a "lucky guy" to have accomplished so much at a young age. I'm not suggesting that luck didn't play a role, but I'm pretty confident that it isn't at the top of the list. In my own world, I think my achievements have been built from sacrifice. Not the altruistic acts that benefit others, but more about tradeoff--to attain something I believe is of great value, I've always elected to give up something of lesser value. After years of wondering why I'm single, why no kids, why I've had a hard time building long-term bonds with people, or why my body isn't ripped, I recognize it's because I don't value those things more than starting companies, opening restaurants, having happy clients and employees, or eating pizza every once in a while. I actually find myself blaming occasional discontentment or bouts of unhappiness on Sacrifice, believing subconsciously that I can have two value systems at the same time, but knowing in my heart that achieving the highest levels in both areas isn't realistic.
After many years of professional achievement, I've embraced the fact that there are trade-offs in life and my decisions are just that -- my decisions. Rather than focus on the relationship, I continue to sacrifice it in honor of that which makes me comfortable and (apparently) on which I place greater value -- work. But the good news is I do believe that I control my value system, and therefore control my happiness--which occasionally could use a kick in the butt. (See. It's not luck.) I will work on this!

Nada My Pregnant Housemate

Facebook Post July 4, 2012.   My friend Julie found this "kitten" recently and has thoughtfully nursed it to kitten normalcy, at which time (today) I adopted her. Upon pick-up and inspection, it is apparent that kitty (named Nada) has had a swell and unsupervised time at the House of Julie, as she is clearly with child. Or Childs. Any time now, it seems..... I will keep you apprised of Nada and our new cause. If you are considering what I'm certain will be a well-adjusted love kitten some time in the next six weeks, be heard! There are no strangers.

 — with Nada.

Kelly, My Twin

Facebook post July 2, 2012.   I thought of my twin sister this morning, Kelly, as I read this piece on twins who heisted a German jewelry counter and were ultimately released -- because their DNA was exact and it could not be determined which one of the two committed the crime (that's not the part that reminded me of my twin sister). What did remind me of my twin, however, is how two people can come from the same womb at virtually the same time and, regardless of the differences society dictates for them or how their paths move them in very different directions, we continue to share an unshakeable bond, though life has offered many opportunities for blender-like shake up. Thank you, Kelly, for always understanding me and for making me feel human--neither better or lesser than anybody else, and for recognizing my strengths and weaknesses with no judgement, prejudices or sympathies. :) (I love this pic of us at one year. Notice how Kelly clings to the chair, contemplating release, while I'm ready to take off like a bird…insatiably curious as to what's out there waiting to knock me off my chubby little feet). Love you, Sis! I'm glad you're you! And I'm glad I'm me!

My $20 Bucks

Facebook post July 1, 2012.   Every morning I pull $20 out of my wallet and at the end of the day my pocket is empty; I never understand where it went. So a few days ago I decided to keep track. Here's my record:
6 a.m: I start with $20 from which I deduct $2.37 for a 32-oz. Diet Mountain Dew and a medium banana from the quick-mart. I put 3 cents in the Take A Penny/Leave A Penny (TAPLAP) container at the register. $17.60 remaining.
6:15: I spend exactly $2 on a single espresso at Heine Bros on Blankenbaker. Put $1 in the tip bowl which leaves me $14.60.
7:30: I head to a meeting downtown and find a spot to park on the street. I put 75 cents in the meter before I realize it's not working. I am frustrated now with $13.85.
7:40: I head into a downtown Starbucks for my meeting, grab a bottle of water that costs me $3.14. Another $1 goes in the tip jar and 1 cent to TAPLAP. I am left with $9.70 at 7:43 a.m.
8:05: I'm still toting my 32-oz Mountain Dew from earlier (which seems to be the best investment so far).
9:45: I'm off to Heine Bros. in St. Matthews to interview an employee candidate. His coffee and my single espresso are $4.77. $1 tip and 3 cents to TAPLAP. $3.90 left.
12:30 p.m: I am hungry and am happy that my noon meeting includes lunch.
5:18: I head back to Anchorage with my Diet Mountain Dew cup empty. I stop at the same quick-mart I started at in the morning for another one. The cost is $1.86. I hand the cashier $1.85 and take a penny from TAPLAP because I believe it is owed to me. This leaves me exactly $2.05.
6 p.m: I am scheduled to meet a friend for a drink on Bardstown road but phone him to change the location to my bar -- The Sea Hag -- where I can get our drinks comped. At 9:15 p.m. I pull the last $2 out of my pocket and leave it on the bar for a tip, which leaves me a nickel.
10:30: As I'm undressing for the evening I hear my nickel fall to the floor and roll somewhere. After a 20-second search I am reminded that that was the end of my $20 -- I am down to 0.
I'm sure there's some type of message here. Maybe it's I drink too many espressos, I need to give less to TAPLAP, or I should make employee candidates buy their own coffee. But at $20 a day, that's $7,300 a year (net). Gross makes it closer to$13,000. That would cover a damn nice car lease payment, or even pretty good health insurance!!! I'm just sayin'. I'm going to go look for that nickel.

The Speed Art Museum

Facebook post June 30, 2012.   I'm a huge fan of The Speed Art Museum and this week was named to its Board of Governors!! It's without question one of the premiere museums in the US. Excited to play a more active role.

Geo-Spacial Robots and Interapt

Facebook post June 29, 2012.   I'm in a board meeting today at the Purdue Incubator Center for a mobile wifi app company I worked to brand about a year ago -- Interapt. Check out this app that Interapt developed for Drone Systems, which builds unmanned geo-spacial "robots" that track ground activity of just about anything you can imagine -- from the air. Interapt developed the software for the HD video stream that comes from the drone that you will get on your phone. You can actually maneuver the drone in real time from your iPhone or iPad to up to 50 mph!! No more roaming dog! Ha ha. Congrats Ankur Gopel…I'm excited to sit on the board of your company!

Southern Exposure and the Mountz's

Facebook post June 29 2012.   To expand my Southern food repertoire (rumor has it there may be another restaurant in the works…..hmmmmm?), yesterday I hung out with my old and dear friends Wade and Betty Mountz and combed through Betty's hundreds of family recipes. I worked for Wade just out of college at Norton Healthcare (he was president of the AHA in the early 70s and a fixture on Capital Hill years before that). This walk through nearly 100 years of culinary history was a great way to spend a steamy afternoon … and truly one I will never forget. I love this recipe of the famous Senate Bean Soup from the Senate Restaurant in the U.S. Capitol that dates back to 1901. And Grandma Claudia Mountz' Dutch Lettuce Salad from 1935. Betty couldn't quite recall who Nellie was (per the pic) but we all agreed that her Orange Cake was worth recording. It was such a great experience--I highly recommend hanging out with a piece of history! It will become a memory!

Mr. Olmstead, Writing and The South

Facebook post June 28, 2012.   Get this: All over the world Frederick Law Olmsted (the man credited with the creation of Louisville's parks system and Central Park in NY) is known as the Father of American Landscape Architecture. But prior to 1865 he was a respected author of many titles about Southern culture, and a journalist for the NY Times -- a Southern correspondent who covered slavery economy and Southern society (he believed slavery was morally odious, expensive and economically unsound), and whose column "Letters From The Southwest" appeared under the pseudonym "Yeoman." It wasn't until after his work as a journalist that he became superintendent of Central Park where he was responsible for the landscape design of its 843 acres, and from which the seed was planted for that which defines him (for most of us, I'm guessing) today! Thank you, Mr. Olmstead, for not only your imagination of distinguished landscape, but for your articulation of the realities of 19th Century South which helped toward the abolition of human trade in the states! Kevin. Here's more: http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/07/09/olmsteds-southern-landscapes/

Eccentric. Me??

Facebook post July 27, 2012.   So I was told last evening that I was a bit eccentric. Duhhhh. That's okay. Because many people of my ilk (creative, multi project, frenetic entrepreneurs) tend to bend toward odd/anomalous. In my quest for defense, I found this piece on well-known creatives who have a reputation for eccentricity. I love that Victor Hugo (Notre Dame de Paris' and 'Les Misérables') would give all of his clothes to his servant, commanding him NOT to return them until he (Hugo) had completed his tasks for the day. I'm guessing that qualifies as eccentric. (Of course if I gave all of my clothes to my servant (assuming I had a servant) I would just go to bed and call it a day--there would surely be a wad of clothes under my bed anyway, so it really would be no big deal.) So let this be an inspiration to the other creative eccentric folks in our world who help to color and animate our sometimes flavorless environment!! And go get naked. kghttp://the99percent.com/tips/7021/Why-Creative-People-Need-to-Be-Eccentric

Sharing my first Bellewood orchard and vegetable garden update. All I want is one pot of vegetable soup and one berry cobbler (I am not picky as to what kind of cobbler or what goes in the soup). I just want to say I grew everything myself. It's about my new attraction to the earth which I'm hopeful one day will lead to some kind of tax credit.

Probably no surprise, but after some "Tseen" research this past week, here's what teens say are the top five things most important to them: 1 Car; 2 Cell phone; 3 Social Networking Sites; 4 Internet; 5 Friends (almost tied with money)--at least Friends beat out Money, eh? I wonder how this list would change if I surveyed adults? Here's an interesting chart re: what kinds of negative issues teens have experienced via social networking sites (from Pew Research)

A couple weeks ago I spoke to the students in The University of Louisville's Entrepreneurial MBA program on the subject of The Entrepreneur's Reality - at least my reality. As I was updating my brain on "career happiness" I came across this piece by Oliver Segovia earlier this year in the Harvard Biz Review who suggests that achieving happiness really does not come form within, or even from others. His thinking is that it's how we immerse ourselves in the world around us and the impact we make on its problems--and ultimately the solutions. He goes on to say that it's our daily struggles that define us and bring out the best in us, and which lays down the foundation to continuously finding fulfillment. I thought it was worth sharing. http://blogs.hbr.org/cs/2012/01/to_find_happiness_forget_about.html

Chris and me on the river.  Pondering.  Do we catch a fish.  Or do we just hug and be happy.  Happy time with Mary and Sam Moseley.

I really think it's a genetic flaw.

This is the photo being used for an Entrepreneur award in New York. At least I look unstressed. Ha ha.

How timely is this??? That surely is easy enough to let happen. :)

Hmmmm. The research being done by CarryOn PR and Label-Conscious Branding for my new mobile ap "Tseen" is telling me that the Top 10 Corporate Food Chains for teens ages 13-18 include Subway, McDonald's, Chipotle, Five Guys, Cheesecake Factory, Taco Bell, Olive Garden, Pizza Hut, Sonic and Starbucks. And....a third of McDonald's employees (including franchises) are teens -- almost 570,000 -- and that number looks to be increasing up to 5% annually. Good or bad, these chains influence teens pretty significantly.

Amazing insight from young audiences in Atlanta re: new ap I'm calling "Tseen," at least for now! We'll be hitting groups in Nashville and St. Louis in coming weeks! Thanks for all of your referrals and for supporting this great project! Kevin