Grandpa Brown's Ale

       In preparation for my book, I have took the necessary steps to control as much in my life as possible, so that I might procure that certain spark that ignites my left.  I have focused so hard at work, genuinely making sense of new things and ideas, as well as establishing my skill sets to management.  I look at life simply, but for everyone that is a different notion.  My goals are giant, I set them up so that I dream big and keep the passion flower growing deep down inside.  I have switched gears several times in the last two years, driving trucks, driving dogs, and driving my dreams.
       The book has been fun, about as fun as fun can get.  I traveled so much and took in a lifetime's worth of experiences.  I feel as though I catapulted myself into the unknown on purpose.  I wasn't stuck, I loved my job in Alaska.  I knew I would return after that first winter traveling around the East coast, but I had no idea that I would meet my future Wife, move to the South, and completely change my thermostat.  I really can't function that well in the heat, so I've retreated to my produce cooler in hopes of daydreaming about Alaska while I organize the fruit shelf.  It was during one of these sessions that I came up with a new way to look at the book I am writing.  I have literally logged more hours than I care to think about because it was all out of love.  I never have recorded memories in time, only the emotional attachment associated with the experiences I've had.
       I have looked closely at the pages I've created on Photoshop and printed out at work for me to scan over every so often.  I think that what I'm trying to do is the wrong thing right now.  The book is never finished, no matter how I try to wrap it up in my mind.  I haven't found a publisher, I haven't had anyone give me lots of money to publish the book I want to see on a coffee table.  Why?  I wonder and wonder as I send another manuscript to another publisher why it hasn't caught on.  I grab the Avocados and open the fridge,  heading back onto the showroom floor, where life is once again happening.
       It's now day three after that particular event.  I am three days from my very first homebrew competition.  I have started on the second Chapter of my book.  I have decided that I won't go with the reference/travel angle I have pursued thus far.  I have great photos, great stories, and lots of beer knowledge.  But the one thing that the book is lacking is character.  I can tell lots of "remember when" stories, but that has been and always will be for campfire sessions.  My best friend told me when we were young that my music was best when written about the people around me in my circle.  So as I generally do in life, I take the leap of faith on a phrase Brad told me 12 years ago.  I have chosen to write out the book travel log style, documenting it from the moment I had the idea atop the Denver glacier in Skagway, Alaska.  It was in that cold canvas tent that one of the 200 howling dogs sang in such a tone that it clicked in my mind that I should travel and write a book about fifty States' breweries.
       It's so easy to me to write and write and write when I'm motivated.  I can go all day, like a sixty mile run across the swamps and hills of Willow, Alaska.  I will finish the book, the way it was intended to be written, the way I want it written.
       So as I go from beer enthusiast to beer competitor, I change hats focusing on what it will take to learn all I can from the upcoming event.  Though I don't have lots of experience racing sled dogs, I have helped countless teams cross the finish line in one way or another.  I was younger then, but I knew that with time I would understand a great deal more than when I had entered.  I am proud of me today, finally brewing good beer, and surrounded my people who respect my passion for living the life I set out to live when I was 19.
Just entering Mystery Brewing's beer comp. is a win in my book, for as they say in dog mushing, " getting the starting line is half the race."