"Weekend"?

I think I may be the best example of a natural writer on the planet, barring people who are in iron lungs. I wake up in the morning to do my job, which is writing, and I prepare for it using a special activity: writing. Then I write. After that, I write to unwind. Then in the evening, it's finally time to relax. By writing. When the weekend rolls around, I'm ready to kick back, have a few beers, and get away from it all. By writing about the writing I did during the week.

If sheer quantity meant anything, I would be rich. And Glenn Reynolds would be dependent on his income from that nine-hour-a-week law professsor gig. In a column for my law school paper, I described the job thusly:

"You’ll teach the same two or three courses over and over for decades, giving you a command of the material that will convince your students you’re a genius, and thankfully, you will never have to prove it by arguing with actual lawyers. "

Today I should have been engaging in recreation, but instead, I fixed up my new hub site. And I'm about to do something which, while enjoyable, is directly related to work. I'm about to take my home-aged prime beef out of the freezer. Yes, it should be juicy and delicious, but it's also deductible.

A glance at the old digital thermometer says 35, which is three degrees colder than I wanted. But the beef has had three days to get its funk on, and it has probably dried out a fair amount. I don't know if it's safe to leave it in there any longer. I'm not worried about illness; last night it looked disturbingly fresh. But I don't want it to get hard.

God, how I would love to make prime rib out of it. Maybe the next time Mike visits I'll do that. I have a good recipe for Bearnaise sauce now. The first one I tried was a Food Network job attributed to Emaril, and it was like vinegar shaken up in a bottle with melted butter. Revolting. But I have one of Julia Child's books, and the recipe within has been much more satisfying.

Oh, boy. It's going to happen eventually. A prime rib feast, made with home-aged prime beef. Giant baked potatoes. Piles of horseradish and Bearnaise. Vats of homebrewed ale. Homemade bread. BLUEBERRY BUTTER CHEESECAKE FOR DESSERT.

God, I wish I could marry me.

I'll probably cook a tasty steak today or tomorrow and tell you how it came out. In painstaking, ruthless detail.

More - SUFFER

Check THIS out.

Sweet, aren't they? Two inches thick and in the range of two pounds each. Nothing on the meat has "turned," but there is a tempting, mild aroma of funk.

That's a vegetable cleaver, not a meat cleaver, but it's ideal for cutting steaks. The wide blade makes for a gorgeous flat cut.

Time to shop for taters.