Curiosity didn’t kill the cat

Life is full of setbacks. But the crazy thing about a setback? It's just a pivot toward something else.

I've had my fair share of redirections — paths I probably should've buckled up for but chose differently. Some days I'm completely at peace with those choices. Other days I'm second-guessing everything, running through the goals I didn't finish, the paths I didn't take. Not finishing college. Not pursuing film. The last week has felt a little like that — the kind of spiral where you start counting everything you didn't do instead of everything you did.

But here's what I keep coming back to: if I'd stayed that course, would I have found the peace I needed? I'll never know. What I do know is that the path I chose opened me up to a different kind of storytelling. One built around hospitality, curiosity, and a lifelong obsession with food, wine, and the experiences that come with both.

It started young.

When I was a kid I wanted to be a chef. One of my mom's best friends — someone I completely adored — was incredibly talented in the kitchen. She taught me how to make crème brûlée, which was my absolute favorite dessert at the time. I know, how posh of me. But watching her make it cracked something open — it made me see food as a craft, as a way of experiencing the world through a completely different lens.

I clearly didn't become a chef. But that curiosity never left.

I grew up in restaurants. That was our dinner table — always out, always trying something new. Food made me come alive. If I was hungry I was unbearable, and everyone who knows me now will tell you that hasn't changed. But the moment something good was in front of me, the world opened up. I don't think there was a food I wouldn't try. I was an adventurous eater from the moment I could be.

But one of my favorite food memories is simpler than any of that. My dad and I would go out to the local course, and somewhere around the turn at hole 9 I'd grab a hot dog with mustard and a hot chocolate, climb back in the cart, and smile like I'd just won something. Objectively the worst pairing you can imagine — but don't knock it til you've tried it. It made me happier than almost anything else could.

There was something about being outside, on the course, with something warm in my hands that just felt right. No judgment, no pressure — just the next hole and whatever came with it. That feeling never really went away. And honestly, it's a big part of why I want to build something that gives other people that same sense of ease. A place where slamming a hot dog at the turn and teeing up for the back nine is not only acceptable, it's the whole vibe.

That's what OOOGR is. My curiosities, my experiences, and my genuine thrill for this life — shared.