Borrowed Earth Café
Hey, Didn't You Write a Book Called "Borrowed Earth Cafe?"


1. My dog ate it.
2. Next month.
3. I have an outline.
4. We just need to pick recipes.
5. We have 90% of it done.

Lord, the things I said to customers.

I think we could have handwritten some recipes, copied them, stapled them together and people still would have been interested.

But we kept getting questions about us and the food.

And a lot a talk about what amounts to nothing.

But we remember laughing, so we wrote some of it down and some of it we posted on Facebook.

"Are you two from California, Hawaii, Colorado, the West Coast or somewhere other than here?"

"Where did you meet?"

"Do your kids eat this way?"

"Did you grow up in a commune?"

"Why can't I get the mustard stain outa my cargo pants, lookit that, right by the big snap pocket too."

People had questions.

Not all of them about food.

"Why are we here?"

You mean, at the restaurant or metaphysically?


A few months after we opened, a stalwart customer asked us, "When are you gonna publish a, uh, cookbook?"

We lied and said, "Soon."

On the trajectory timeline, mapping the earliest traces of humans on the planet, four years is a relatively short period of time.

Soon.

I drew the short writing straw, so I was solely responsible for the task.

And the procrastination.

Which, I must say, I handled beautifully.

The procrastination part.

We kept thinking of more things to put in the book, but wrote not a word.

Took not a note.

No napkins or sticky notes or outlines.

And, I learned that the content was being stored.

Last June, in about 30 days, I wrote about 400 pages, sitting mostly at the kitchen table well into the night.

I listened to one song 612 times, locked on Repeat One.

"Shouldn't Have Took More Than You Gave" by Dave Mason.

And often, a little bird on my shoulder.

You can read the first chapter on Amazon by searching for Borrowed Earth Cafe and clicking on the preview picture of the book cover that says, appropriately enough, Look Inside.