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Stack of Books

After successfully avoiding pen and paper during my recent vacation (Thank you, World Cup!) on Sunday I finally grabbed myself by the collar, sat myself down at the deck table, put a pen in my hand and paper before me, and started the short story that has been nipping at my heels like a poorly trained corgi for nearly a month.

I started writing at about 7AM Sunday and finished it at around 11PM. It clocked in at about 3000 words.

For me, that is fast writing. But that wasn’t the interesting bit.

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Resurfacing

 

Simple Living

One evening, when I was courting my wife-to-be, we were at my place when the phone rang. Since we were talking, I ignored the phone. “Aren’t you going to answer that?” Nope. If it was important, they’d call back (I didn’t have an answering machine). This was my relationship with technology in those days. Technology was my servant, not the reverse.

Well, sometime during the last three decades, that has changed, so I’m just now coming off a full week of an “internet fast.”

Overall, I am surprised at how easy it was. I stuck to my “going dark” guidelines so successfully that when I tried to go back online, I found that all my little electronic connectimoids needed to be charged up. The computer, the tablet, even the smartphone had gone almost entirely unused for a whole week.

What did I miss? What didn’t I miss?

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Going Dark

TFL Problem

I will not be employing a shabbos goy this week.

When I lived in Jerusalem, I learned about the shabbos goy. The shabbos goy is a non-Jew who will do tasks of work which are forbidden to Jews on the Sabbath. To keep everything on the up-and-up, the shabbos goy should be someone who would be on the premises anyway, such as a maintenance worker or babysitter. Thus, on the Sabbath, a shabbos goy can turn on the house’s lights or rekindle the fire (both of which are forbidden to Jews), and everyone benefits from the work that the shabbos goy did. No commandments were broken. Nothing to see here. Move along.

So, as I said, I will not be using a shabbos goy this week.

In a prevoius post, I mentioned that I was considering an “internet diet.”

Well, today it begins. Today I’ll be going dark.

I’ll be taking it One Day at a Time, but my goal is to go a full week without major technological contact.

What does that mean, specifically? Good idea. Let’s define terms…

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Writing with Pen and PaperWelcome one, welcome all, to the fourth stop on the Writing Process Blog Tour, one of those writerly process-ish bloggy tour-like things that we use as an excuse to talk about our passion: writing.

My name is Kurt, and I’ll be your host for as long as you keep reading.

Thanks to my predecessor, J.Z. Murdock, author of darkness, for the invitation to join the tour.

The premise is simple. At each stop along the tour, the author talks about his/her writing processes, and then hands you off to the next writer in line. (Todd…you ready?)

It’s just four simple questions:

  • What am I working on?
  • How does my work differ from others in its genre?
  • Why do I write what I do?
  • How does my writing process work?

Still here? Good.

Here we go…

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Running the Zoo

My Mr. Fezziwig

The other day a friend asked me what my “dream job” would be. The phrase that leapt to mind was: independently wealthy, incredibly influential, international food critic.

Then I gave the question a little thought. What would be my dream job?

The fact that I did not pick my current job–Software Developer–was no great surprise. Neither was the fact that I did not choose any job I’ve had in the past. Some people may find pumping gas or running a web-press fulfilling, but I found the former stultifying and the latter terrifying.

Curiously, though, neither did I did not pick one of my current avocations, i.e., “Writer” or “Chef.”

For “Chef,” I know too well how much work and dedication that job really takes to make a living at it; I get enough of a workout just cooking for my small family. For the “Writer” job, well, let’s just say that I got close to that, know how unstable the industry is and how unreliable writing income can be; I just can’t put my family through that kind of financial and emotional stress year after year.

So, what would be my dream job? Eventually, I settled on three:

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Braised Pork Shanks

Braised Pork Shanks - FinalSay the word “braise” to most home cooks and you’ll likely get a blank stare.

Leaving out crock-pots and pot-roasts, I think it’s safe to say that the braise is rarely used in the modern kitchen. Even if you love pot-roasts, you may not know what a braise is or what it does.

A braise is a long, slow cook in moist heat. It’s great for stews and pot roasts, as it transforms a cheap cut of meat into succulent, tender morsels of flavor. It breaks down those tough connective tissues–tendons, ligaments, cartilage–transferring them to the braising liquid, building that unctuous mouth-feel we love in sauces and gravies. Technically, my In-the-Oven Chicken Stock is a braise, cooked at low temps for a ridiculously long time, and the difference shows in the results. It has a complexity of flavor you just don’t get with other methods.

Our most common mistakes in using the braise are:

  1. We cook with too high a heat
  2. We cook for too short a time

A braise requires patience and subtlety as we build flavors layer upon layer. However, a braise doesn’t have to take all day. Here’s an example…

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Bring on the Drear

Scarlet CrocosmiaMy eyes brightened when I saw the forecast: showers beginning Friday, continuing through Saturday and Sunday, with sunshine returning Monday morning.

I love drippy weekends. Even though they cut into my convertible drive-time, even though they make my rosebuds ball up and rot, even though they make my friends unhappy because their plans for beach-days or BBQs or mountain drives or afternoon walks get washed out, despite this I still love drippy, rainy, dreary weekends.

Rainy weekends mean I don’t have to mow the lawn.

Rainy weekends mean I don’t feel guilty about not washing the car.

Rainy weekends mean I can let my glass of red wine breathe for a bit while I sit on the deck overlooking the greenery, smelling the fresh, moist air, listening to the birds at the feeder and the drip, drip, drip of the water falling from the trees.

Rainy weekends mean bundled up mornings with warm coffee and a perhaps shot of brandy.

Rainy weekends mean spending time with those closest to me.

Rainy weekends mean quiet.

And I like that all to pieces.

k

Cypress Rain