I didn’t get skunked at today’s show—but let’s just say I wasn’t exactly loading up a wheelbarrow full of cash either.
The event was the first annual car show to benefit Paws for the Cause, and I’ll give it this—it had a good heart, even if it didn’t have much of a crowd. Vendors started trickling in, slowly… very slowly. In fact, I had enough time to sit and watch them arrive like it was a parade with no audience. The classic cars? Even fewer. I think I saw more empty parking spots than chrome bumpers.
Each vendor paid $30, car owners paid $20, and everyone had to bring a large bag of dog food. That part, I genuinely liked. Knowing the food would go to the Humane Society made it feel worthwhile. At the end of the day, even if I didn’t make much, at least some dogs are eating better tonight—and that’s a win you can’t really argue with.
Now, about the selling…
It took me about two hours to make my first sale. Two hours. I had time to rethink my entire inventory and briefly consider whether the guy selling kettle corn was onto something. Then… nothing. Not a single sale until the final minutes before packing up. It was like the universe said, “Let’s keep him just hopeful enough to stay.”
If you don’t count the cost of the dog food, I broke even. So technically, I didn’t lose money… but I didn’t exactly win either. I’m still chasing that one product—the one that people see and immediately say, “I need that.” So far, that magical item remains as elusive as a full parking lot at today’s show.
Looking around, though, I think I did all right compared to some of the other vendors. A few of them spent most of the day parked at a picnic table nearby. At one point, I wasn’t sure if they were selling products or just holding down the table so it wouldn’t blow away.
Speaking of blowing away… the wind showed up late but made a dramatic entrance. By the end of the day, tents were starting to lift and shift like they had somewhere better to be. I’m pretty sure that’s what convinced the organizer to shut things down about an hour early—and honestly, nobody argued.
For now, I don’t have any shows lined up, which might be a blessing in disguise. It’ll give me time to reorganize, take inventory, and figure out what needs restocking—and maybe, just maybe, stumble across that one item that actually sells consistently.
In the meantime, I’ve got a couple of orders to finish up, and that feels like progress.
No, it wasn’t a sellout. No, it wasn’t a disaster.
Just another day behind the booth… and another story to tell.
Have you ever hit one of those stretches where you really want to do something—but life just keeps stacking the deck against you?
That’s me right now… and fishing.
The weather—well, the temperature at least—has been absolutely perfect. The kind of weather that makes you start mentally packing your gear before you even finish your morning coffee. I’ve been itching to get the kayak in the water.
But of course… It’s never that simple.
First, there’s the wind.
For the last ten days, the wind has been doing everything except cooperating. Now, sure, you can go kayak fishing in the wind… if you enjoy turning your peaceful fishing trip into a CrossFit session. Unless you’re on the water at daybreak, you’ve got a very small window before the breeze turns into a personal trainer yelling, “Paddle harder!”
Nothing quite like trying to hold your spot while questioning your life choices.
But honestly, the wind isn’t even the biggest problem.
Even if the water was as smooth as glass, my schedule has been anything but.
I’ve had something going on nearly every day—mostly doctor appointments. And just when I think I’ve finally got a free day lined up, my phone rings with, “Hey, just a reminder…” At this point, I’m convinced my calendar is just a suggestion, not a plan.
Case in point—I went to the doctor the other day about my back. For years, I thought it was just normal wear and tear… turns out my back has apparently been keeping secrets. Not the fun kind either.
So I finally spot a window. Tomorrow morning? Perfect fishing opportunity. The wind isn’t supposed to pick up until around noon. I’m already picturing that first cast.
Then the phone rings.
It’s the doctor’s office.
“Your MRI is scheduled for tomorrow.”
Of course it is.
So instead of being out on the water trying to catch fish, I’ll be lying perfectly still inside a giant tube while it takes pictures of all the bad decisions I’ve made with my back over the years. Honestly, if that machine could talk, it’d probably just shake its head and say, “Yeah… you probably shouldn’t be kayak fishing either.”
At this point, I’m not even sure what’s more out of alignment—my schedule or my spine.
Looking ahead to next week, it’s the classic tease. The temperature is supposed to drop again early in the week, then warm back up later. But it’s too far out to know what the wind’s going to do… and at this point, I’m convinced it’s working with my doctor.
One of these days, everything is going to line up—the weather, the wind, my schedule… and hopefully my back.
And when it does, those fish better be ready.
Because I’ve got ten days’ worth of missed fishing—and a medically questionable spine—ready to hit the water.
I’ve been a little MIA the last few days, and I’d like to say it’s because I was off on some relaxing retreat.
It was not.
I’ve been at Trade Days.
For two straight days, I stood on my feet greeting people, answering questions, and handing out business cards like I was running for public office. By the end of it, I’m pretty sure I introduced myself more times than a guy on the first night of a reality dating show.
The good news? I met a lot of great people and sold a solid chunk of my inventory.
The bad news? I also proved—beyond a shadow of a doubt—that I did not bring nearly enough stuff.
The Land of “Everything You Never Knew You Needed”
Setting up for Trade Days
Trade Days is an experience.
Imagine a place where you can buy a handcrafted porch swing, a fishing rod, homemade jelly, a birdhouse nicer than your first apartment, and a box of random items that may or may not have come from someone’s attic… all within 50 feet.
That’s Trade Days.
And the crowd? Huge.
I heard multiple people say it took them nearly two hours just to get from the entrance to the field after paying. At that point, you’re not attending an event—you’re on a pilgrimage.
I’d estimate at least 3,000 people came through our section, which explains why I talked so much my voice started negotiating a resignation.
My Two Tables of Confidence
I was fortunate enough to set up with another vendor who sells 3D printed items.
This guy came prepared.
He had six tables. Six. Full. Tables.
Not “we’ll spread things out and make it look nice” full. I mean, packed.
Meanwhile, I rolled in with enough product to confidently fill… two tables.
And just to make things more interesting, those two tables?
They were his.
So not only did he bring enough inventory to run a small retail operation, but I also managed to squat on part of his setup like an uninvited houseguest.
To his credit, he was incredibly gracious. To my credit… I now know I need to make a lot more stuff.
Doing the Math (and Slightly Panicking)
His spot—a 15-foot by 120-foot space with water and electricity—cost $90.
Honestly, after seeing the crowd, that might be one of the better deals out there.
I had several people ask if I’d be back next month, which felt great… until I remembered I already have another show booked that same day.
Also, a small detail—I’d need more inventory, another tent, and a couple more tables.
So yeah, minor logistics.
Mom and daughter having fun in the water
Pre-Show Fishing (a.k.a. Humbling Myself in Nature)
Before all this, I took a day off and went kayaking with my wife and one of my daughters, who was on spring break.
Now, I’d love to say this was purely about family time.
But I also brought my fishing gear.
Because I have priorities.
While they paddled around enjoying the peaceful scenery, I was off to the side doing what I would describe as “aggressively attempting to catch fish.”
I had several bites… or what I think were bites… or possibly just fish laughing at me underwater.
I did hook one decent fish—briefly—until it wrapped my line around some branches and escaped like it had somewhere important to be.
I managed to land one fish, weighing in at a solid ¾ of a pound.
Naturally, this did not impress my audience.
Mission Accomplished Anyway
The real goal of the trip was to get my daughter out kayaking for the first time.
Later that day, she showed me her sunburned legs like a badge of honor and said she had a great time and wants to go again.
So despite my fishing performance, I’m calling that a win.
The Waiting Game
Now I’ve got the fishing bug again.
Unfortunately, my truck is currently in the shop, which means my fishing plans are on hold for about a week. Probably for the best—it gives the fish time to regroup and rebuild their confidence.
Once I’m back on the road, I’m hoping to fish at least once a week… assuming the weather cooperates.
Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this:
There is nothing quite like making the perfect cast…
…only to have the wind pick it up and deposit your lure directly into a tree like it was the plan all along.
Mother Nature has a sense of humor.
And apparently, I’m part of the joke.
In the meantime, it’s back to the shop—cranking out more inventory and trying to make sure next time I show up with more than “two tables of optimism.”
I attend two men’s Bible studies each week — one on Tuesday mornings and one on Saturday mornings. The reason I bring this up is that at the Saturday group, several of the men are guys I’ve known for years. At one point or another, many of them were leaders in the Boy Scouts. Since announcing my “retirement” from Scouting, we’ve spent a lot of time after Bible study swapping stories and memories from those years.
Today was no exception.
And like most Scout stories, this one involves weather, questionable decisions, and lessons learned the hard way.
For years, our boys attended the same summer camp. It was a good camp, but after a while, the older boys got tired of earning the same merit badges year after year. There are only so many times you can get excited about tying the same knots before you start questioning your sanity.
So our troop decided to do something different — we planned our own week-long summer camp with a wider variety of merit badge opportunities.
The location we chose was Raccoon Mountain, just over the Tennessee state line, about 2.5 hours away. This trip took months of planning. We had to make sure the boys had fun while earning badges they couldn’t get at regular camp. Finding qualified instructors was probably the hardest part. That meant reaching out to other troops in the area and politely begging adults to come teach teenagers skills in the middle of the woods in the summer.
When we arrived, I met with the camp ranger. She placed us away from the other RV campers so we’d have privacy and not disturb anyone. While setting up, I noticed a large dry creek bed off to the side. The tent spots were level, but the whole camping area sat on a hill.
At the time, I thought, “Nice view.”
Later, I thought, “Well… that was dumb.”
We arrived midday, giving the sixteen boys time to set up the dining area, pitch tents, and start preparing dinner. After the meal, the KP crew cleaned dishes while the rest of the boys relaxed. The adult leaders met to finalize plans for our first full day.
Everything was going perfectly… until the camp ranger interrupted us.
A severe thunderstorm watch had been issued for later that night into the early morning. As Scoutmaster, weather monitoring was one of my responsibilities. Up until the day we left, the forecast called for only a brief early-morning shower. I had checked again before departure — no change.
This was back when weather apps were more “suggestions” than “accurate predictions.”
One of our camp rules was no electronics. Devices stayed in the vans once we arrived. This was before smartphones took over, but we still had gaming systems and MP3 players to worry about. This was to give the boys the complete outdoor experience.
I did bring two devices — my work phone and my BlackBerry. The work phone had limited internet (and technically wasn’t for personal use), and the BlackBerry had radar, though the signal was spotty enough that sometimes I think it was just guessing.
Radar showed two wide storm lines heading straight for us. By our calculations, the first would arrive around 2 a.m. After our meeting, I had the boys secure anything that could blow away or get soaked.
Most adults were staying in travel trailers, but I made sure several leaders stayed in tents with me for safety.
Around 1:30 a.m., thunder woke me. Lightning flickered in the distance. As I crawled out to check things, I ran into another leader doing the same thing. Always comforting when someone else is thinking the same way you are — or at least equally nervous.
While checking the camp, John called my name. He had spotted a toad hopping quickly uphill.
I asked if maybe that toad knew something we didn’t.
Looking back… I’m pretty sure he had access to a better weather service than we did.
Right on schedule, the first storm hit around 2 a.m. Wind picked up first, moving things I thought were heavy enough to stay put. Then the rain came — light at first, then like somebody flipped the “monsoon” switch.
Water rushed down the hill straight toward that “dry” creek bed. The road to the leaders’ section quickly turned into something resembling Class II rapids. All that water headed right toward the boys’ tents at the bottom.
John and I tried everything to divert water — digging channels, moving gear, anything. Nothing worked. There was just too much water. We grabbed spare tarps and rolled them into makeshift coffer dams.
At that point, we weren’t so much “in control” as we were “participating in a natural disaster.”
After about twenty minutes, the rain eased. Radar showed the second, stronger line about thirty minutes out.
Then my son called out from his tent asking if they could come out — said there was “a little water” inside.
In Scout language, “a little water” can mean anything from damp socks to an indoor swimming pool.
I told them to stay put. The storm wasn’t done with us yet.
As we kept working, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.
Another toad. Moving uphill. Faster than the first one.
At that moment, I should have packed everyone up and followed that toad like he was Moses.
The second storm hit harder than the first. John and I were soaked to the bone. By the time it ended, every tent had at least an inch of water inside. Not a single dry sleeping bag or cot left.
My entire focus was on the boys. That was the Scoutmaster in me. Thankfully, we had stored some dry wood under a tarp and could at least build a fire to start drying things out.
Only later that morning did I check my own gear.
The water had pushed loose debris against my tent and literally shoved it downhill. There were six inches of mud inside. Somehow, though, everything on top of my cot — including my CPAP and electronics — stayed dry.
I still can’t explain that. I’m calling it either divine intervention or really good cot placement.
After breakfast, John and I loaded every sleeping bag and six full trash bags of clothes, and drove into town to a laundromat. I don’t even want to think about how many quarters we fed those dryers. I’m pretty sure the owner saw us coming and started pricing beach houses.
When we got back, John offered to let me stay in his tent for the rest of the week. Thankfully, his tent was large enough for both of us. After the night I had just experienced — losing a fight with rain, gravity, and poor campsite placement — I wasn’t about to argue.
At that point, pride was gone. Survival and dry socks were the only goals.
Besides, after spending half the night building tarp dams in a thunderstorm together, sharing a tent didn’t even make the top ten list of weird things that had happened that week.
The rest of the week went perfectly. The boys had a blast. Nothing was ruined — just wet and sleep-deprived. And probably a little more respectful of weather forecasts… and fast-moving amphibians.
And I learned something important.
If you ever see toads moving quickly before a storm… You might want to follow them to higher ground.
As I’m writing this there is a steady rain with a sound of thunder off in the distance. I have always enjoyed the sound of rain especially when it’s hitting a tin roof. I even enjoy an occasional thunderstorm when it’s not too strong. I don’t care for the strong winds, lightning and the damage that is associated with sever storms.
Today was a continuation of yesterday. I had already conceded the fact that no matter what happened today I would not let it bother me. That lasted about an hour after I arrived. Since I lost my temper yesterday most of my coworkers were keeping their distance and rightfully so. My helper was afraid to work with me for fear of my biting his head off. The truth of the matter is once I “explode”, I’m good. I don’t let it eat at me like most people. The explosion is simply a release of stress and frustration that’s been building up over the past few months.
I did not walk tonight. The girls school has made the playoffs and tonight was the first round. Because they won their game tonight they will go on to play in the second round. The rain started late in the fourth quarter and we all got soaked. The team made it all the way to the final round last year and lost. I’m not sure if they’ll go as far as that this year but they’ll give it their best.
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