I choose “The Legendary Bobby Darin” to play on Spotify right after I wake up. I am out of bed 6:48AM. I am not going to have much breathing room before leaving for the shop. The bedroom inside Frankie is toasty warm. The space heater its doing its job. Blankets are folded. Bed is made. Heater is unplugged and stored behind bed. It is time to get going.

I am not sure what is going to happen at McCall’s today. Will the Christmas crowd begin to arrive or will it be a relatively normal Friday. I do know that a lot of time will be used to ready the special orders for the holiday. It’s not that all hell breaks loose. The pace does pick up and we all seem to move in a slight egoless state. Responses are quicker. In a way it is like a kirtan of movement and preparation. I know the meat walk-in is stacked with ribeyes and New York strips. That the pastry walk-in has been emptied of its normal items and is now filled with special orders. I am anticipating a weekend of coffee and, every now and then a shot of whiskey.

Darin’s “More” is the first song out off “Spotify” It’s a very good tune that swings nicely and easy to sing. I am glad it’s the first one. I take a freezing cold shower to wake up, shave the stubble on my neck, lotion my body and get into my overalls, socks and green Pendleton shirt. Today the red scarf and specs will be worn as a salute to Xmas. “A Nightingale Sings in Berkeley Square” is now playing. Scrambled eggs are made. Alpine brot is buttered. Water is boiled for English breakfast tea, 1/2 and 1/2. I’ll get the packets of Stevia at Starbucks Scrambled eggs go on the brot and I immediately devour both slices. It’s close to 7:30AM and I want to get on the road soon. I decide to have a cold burger with onion, mayo and spicy mayo. I devour that too. I mix the tea, put it in a quart jar and get ready to leave. I shut off Darin, singing “More” to myself and make my way to the Chevy.

I clock in at 7:58. Ellie and Ernesto are already there. We are the morning crew. I enjoy working with them. No nonsense, get the job done, and play some good tunes off Spotify. I like Ellie’s choice of music and how Ernesto walks into the shop with his mug. I go to the back room where the meat walk-in is located and see the amount of deliveries. It’s going to be intense back here for the next two hours. I get on my whites, black apron and cap, and go back to date the incoming product. I notice that I am still singing “More” I hope William shows soon. I do not want to lift boxes or product.as I can still feel pain from my cracked rib.

“Moe, will you play some tunes”

Ellie surprises me. My decision is quick. Between Thelonious Monk and John Coltrane. Jackson played Coltrane the other day and it sounded like perfect music to play in the shop for Christmas. I choose Coltrane. The sound of his ax immediately fills the shop.

Elliot has arrived. I get him to open the boxes and, after I tag the meat with dates, have him fill the shelves. Soon they are all filled and we still have a lot to unpack. Olin comes and gives me a list of product to pull and move to the pastry walk-in. These will be for the special orders he will be working on over the next couple of days. 9 tenderloins. 3 briskets. A case of duck fat. The list goes on. “This is doable” I think. I keep William busy between filling shelves and moving Olin’s request to the pastry walk-in. Jackson walks in. We high five. Bart has also arrived. Jackson arriving means we will be opening soon. Boxes still need to be emptied. We press on. By the time it is 10:30, we are almost done. We’ll have to finish later. I move out to the shop to open the doors.

I look at the clock. It is 10:35AM. I’m surprised we haven’t opened yet. Ellie is in the process of opening the door. The day is beginning..

The customers come and go. More are asking for the special orders they have. I continue to sing “More” Bob stops by and gets the meat he will be taking to Missoula, Montana. We talk about how it is strange that there are no butcher shops in Missoula when one thinks there would be. Nate mentions the truffles we have. Bob purchases a healthy amount. We won’t see him until 2020. We hug. I tell him,

“In 2020, may our faces not be found on post office walls”

The pace is fast though not extreme. I like how we’re moving. How I’m moving. I am now singing songs from “Bye, Bye Birdie and wonder what the hell is going on. Nate and I converse about the debates. Customers ask about truffles. A older woman asks if she can make an order for two filet center cuts. I tell her the order cutoff was yesterday. Then I realize we can sell her the center cuts we already have today. I pull the tenderloins from the meat walk-in in the back and ask Bart to go to work. The woman and I place our hands together and, like two Indian sadhu’s, bow to each each other twice to acknowledge the solution to her problem. In five minutes, Bart has the center cuts complete. I go through the process of checking her out. She realizes she has lost her I-phone. I finish the transaction and go out to help her look for the phone. We both draw blanks. Then Larry realizes that the customer he was helping took the phone by accident. We decide that if he returns it we will contact her at her daughters phone number. I ask her to write her name and phone number so we can put it on file and call her when it returns.

It turns out her name is Linda Love.

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