The Burnt Cookie Guy
I’m sure now that you have clicked on this link, your first question is:
What the hell is a burnt cookie guy?
Well I’ll tell ya. It ain’t such a good thing.
It all started the day I was given a container of cookies from the woman I thought I truly loved. These cookies were so over-cooked that there was no way they could be served at her wine and food social she hosted each month.
So she gave them to me. How considerate, I thought.
It wasn’t long after I received that lovely gift, I was back at my house having coffee one morning. I was trying my best to soften the cookies in the hot coffee to try and make them edible.
It wasn’t working.
Not because they were so burnt that they couldn’t get soft. But mostly because I wasn’t getting enough love in return to have un-burnt cookies. Unlike the rest of the guests at the social event, I was awarded the cookies that had stayed in the oven too long.
“How could I be so foolish?” I asked myself.
It turns out to be pretty simple. I was the one that stayed in the oven too long.
Do you think you know what love is?
Not likely. Those cookies got me thinking. I decided that love lands in one of three categories.
First, it is wonderful, special, and two people share a love that lasts forever. I know you heard of that before. Second, one person in the relationship doesn’t love as much as the other or is lagging behind. A common tale. Or three, one of the two has no intention of loving the other as much in return. Now you can say there are ones out there that say “let’s see where this goes”, or “lets give it some more time”. But it all ends up in one of those three.
If it is anything but the first one, you better plan to chisel off a piece of your heart and leave it on the side of the road somewhere.
In this case I got the dreaded number three. Get out the chisel kinda number three.. Fortunately the cookie lady was kind enough to help me out of the oven before I was completely roasted. She was a seasoned easy let down artist, using lines like; “I’m gonna take a step back”, or “I need to fix me”.
Both of which are a clear signal that I needed to cut my losses.
I was heartbroken. For the first time in I can’t remember ever. I was mad at myself for missing all the red flags. I was mad at her for leading me on. At first, I thought I had lost everything. I knew it wasn’t healthy to think like that. It felt like I was mad at everyone.
Except my dog Tick. He always showed the same love. Unadulterated and unconditional.
The truth was I had to fix me. She didn’t need to be fixed, that was just an excuse to drop me.
I was the one that needed to be overhauled.
But how?
As I was sitting having my coffee that morning. I looked at those terrible cookies and thought of a way.
The first thing I did was pick up the cute little tin full of petrified cookies that the career homemaker gave to me, and tossed them right in the trash can. My love for her went with it.
I felt better. For a moment.
I looked my dog in the eyes and said. “Let’s get outta here”.
He looked back at me as if to say. “I’m with you buddy”. After all he had a fondness for my previous lover as well, and may be in of need some repairs himself.
I wasn’t going to sit around and sulk. I wasn’t going to remain mad.
I was going to take some time off and return to my creative roots to repair the damage. Dig deep to bring out new ideas and thoughts. I would replace all that negativity with new words to write, things to do, people to interact with and most of all travel. Tick and me were going on a road trip. Together with our companionship we would find new people to care about, and replace the lost love with new beginnings and hope.
I loaded up my trusty 4 wheel drive pickup with all the things we would need and chose a direction of travel. I had money, resources, no pending commitments and time. I could go anywhere. I chose to go East and South from Denver and see what was out there. It would be best if we were completely self contained.
I purchased a vintage pull type trailer that needed renovation. That was the plan. I would renovate this camper, pull it behind my vehicle and see where the road led. I would write about the people and experiences along the way. I would do my best to restore the trust I had lost.
Could I find the love that my heart was willing to give and get in return?
Could I find interesting people and places along the way to write about?
I decided I could. It would write a blog that I could expand on at each experience. As I looked into those requirements it became easy to think through. I would share my travel and experiences in writing for anyone to read. Or no one to read. It didn’t matter. I was determined to pick up that chiseled off piece of my heart and put it back where it belonged.
The first stop would be Nebraska, where one of my oldest friends lived. He had a shop and I would use that space to get all the gear ready including renovating the camper.
Little did I know I would encounter my first person of interest.
The Nebraska Kid.