WRITE FOR BETTER OR WORSE, RICHER OR POORER

Write for better because who doesn’t want to be better, hope for better, strive for better.

A better you is good for everyone else.

The better you doesn’t fly off the handle at every setback, spin out at every turn in the road, or quit when the going gets tough.

The best you handles diversity with calm and coolness, but you’re not there yet?

Shocking news reveals no one else is either.

I was in Costco last week with a list from my wife.

These lists are more of a suggestion that I fill in along the way.

Most of the time I’m looking for other guys like me in the middle of the day holding a stickie-note with scribbles on it.

I can’t be the only one?

One item not on the list? Tomahawk steak.

It wasn’t on my list either, but I stopped a moment to admire them in the meat cooler.

They looked like a bunch of meaty hatchets with that big bone in the package.

But they weren’t labeled as ‘tomahawk’ so I asked the guy restocking the cooler.

 

Me: Is this a tomahawk steak?

Butcher: Yes, it is, and it’s the best deal in the store, better than anything else in the section. They are incredible and won’t last. They’ll be gone after tomorrow.

Me: Sounds good, but I’m still on the fence. Tell me one more thing and I’m getting one.

B: Would you look at the marbling.

Me: Yep, that did it. Which one do you recommend?

B: This one.

 

And just like that I had a $35.00 roast in my basket pretending to be a steak.

 

It’s the steak you see when you close your eyes and dream. It’s the steak that Fred Flintstone ate. It’s over the top. Larger than life. The ultimate.

Omaha Steaks huge 36-ounce tomahawk ribeye steak is perfect for sharing with friends – use the long bone handle to enjoy this luxury steak yourself… caveman style.

 

Write For Better, Cook For Better

Sunday started with shoveling dirt after taking time to write for better.

 

If boomerpdx is the only blog you read, thank you.

It’s the only one I write, which explains the content.

For a look behind the curtain, I prep before each post by scrolling twitter and Facebook and Yahoo News until something blog worthy stops me in my tracks.

Have I seen the news today? Oh, boy. Have I ever. But it’s not what belongs here.

Instead of craigslist, a Huffington Post, and the rest of the accumulation industry, I run a tight ship, the USS Learn To Give A Shit.

Part of the learning process is dropping the tired persona you’ve picked up from whatever culture you identify with.

Instead, know your strengths and improve what you see as your weaknesses.

Do that and you become a better person; do it often enough on the page and you become a better writer.

That is my daily goal. It should be yours too.

Write the moment, the story, the episode, the vignette, and do it with a point of view.

 

Five of us dug holes, shoveled dirt, and planted summer flowers in a reclaimed corner of a front yard.

 

 

Then we continued by adding better dirt to the new raised gardens.

The highlight was fixing the crooked front gate that had drooped enough to make it hard to open and close due to rubbing on the fence post.

 

 

To make it more interesting, the fence post with the latch had dried and twisted.

Add a spacer for the latch? Noooo.

Add a spacer on the bottom hinge to square the gate to the opening? Nooo.

 

 

How about adding a brace at the top?

Yessssss.

 

 

Now we were structural engineers, and that called for a beer run.

Filled with new confidence the world seemed less daunting.

I was pumped up, so pumped that I choked down the fear of making a mess and invited everyone to a tomahawk steak dinner.

If we could fix a gate, we could fix a tomahawk.

 

One Success Leads To Another

Right after this I went home and cut up a container of fresh mushrooms an sautéed them dry before adding salt, pepper, minced garlic, and a big can of Campbells’s Cream of Mushroom Soup which is a roux.

Seared the tomahawk in a cast iron pan for three minutes each side in butter and olive oil, then in the oven preheated to 350 for twenty-five minutes.

Cooked up some pasta, made a salad, and . . . ?

I was stunned at how well things turned out.

Taste and appearance both passed with flying colors.

If you paid for this in a fancy gastronomique restaurant you’d have to sign over ownership to your car and walk home happy.

Not this time.

We didn’t even dress for dinner. Probably a good thing?

 

 

How do I know that it turned out so well?

The five year old liked it as much as everyone else, and that’s more than enough.

Not everything turns out the way expected, and that tends to throw people off the more challenging aspects of kitchen life.

My wife and I are up to the challenge together.

We figured out how to cook lobster just right, now a tomahawk.

What’s next?

PS:

Like a Costco shopping list, a recipe is a suggestion.

Take a list of ingredients and work it out based on cook time and temperature.

 

PSS:

It’s the same with writing a story. Make a list of experiences and work it out based on emotions and pacing.

Don’t get fancy, just write for better or worse.

If it’s worse, re-write.

If you screw up dinner, make a casserole.