One of a kind

I always thought we’d make up. One of these days we’d see each other at the Superstore or on Spring Garden and we’d both apologize — her for having no compassion for a broke illegal scrambling to make enough to pay my share of the power bill, me for refusing to pay rent for the summer months (after they’d forced me out of the apartment five months earlier).

We were great friends for that first year of university, a dozen girls living in a truly golden time, full of curiosity and open to possibilities.

I thought once she’d calmed down a bit, and we’d both grown up, we could laugh about the misunderstanding. We had a strong foundation.

Fast forward six years.

I stumbled across the obituary accidentally, and then I was sure I’d read it wrong. It is with great sadness that we announce the untimely passing of our beautiful daughter and sister….
Ten weeks ago she was cheerfully teaching in Japan, and today I went to her funeral.

But I still think I must have read it wrong. No one was ever more alive than she.

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Anyone want in on our office pool to identify the final Cylon?

“Junk Science my ass,” she murmured delicately.

According to Steve Malloy, all those Love Canal kids were faking, and the subsequent investigation, fining and establishment of the Superfund were all part of an elaborate liberal witch hunt. Actually, I have using the term “witch hunt”, unlike many Congressional representatives, because they usually lose sight of the fact there was never any chance Salem, Massachusetts was ever home to any witches, and such certainty is laughable in the face of… well everything they compare to a witch hunt.

“If a site was deemed by the EPA to pose a risk to human health — say, by divining as little as a 0.01 percent increase in the risk of cancer to a hypothetical person who, however implausibly, might one day subsist on a site’s most contaminated soil and groundwater — then the owners and users of the site could be held liable for the typically exorbitant, EPA-determined clean-up costs.”

Oh, what honest reporting! The fact is, the EPA doesn’t ever specify how much a polluter pays to clean up a job— if it’s cleaned to EPA standards, they couldn’t care less. If, however, you kinda swish a mop around in a now-orange freshwater stream, and half-heartedly sweep at the contaminated topsoil, then yes, the EPA will clean it up, and yes, the Superfund will charge the offender three times the price a thorough job cost them.

I mean, that’s what they used to do. Before Bush. And after him, too, I hope.

Anyway, it’s dishonest and disingenuous to even suggest that the CO2 excreted by actual humans will ever be subject to any kind of Carbon Tax. Angry eyebrows to you, sir, and it’s bullshit to suggest Coca-Cola will be forced to shake the last few dimes from the cash box to pay whatever Carbon Tax is levied on them.

Dear God, I miss Molly Ivins.

Oops.

Dick Cheney! I broke my keyboard! I was scraping around between the keys and producing quite a sizable dustclump when I got a little too aggressive with the left-side command button (equivalent of control on PC) and off it popped. And either I can’t figure out the plastic spring mechanism or digits lack the requisite delicacy for the job, because after about two hours of breathless surgery and trying many configurations, I’m still without the button. Of course, the reason the base of this particular key was so filthy is because it’s the key I use most, so there has been a VERY STEEP LEARNING CURVE this afternoon as I reacquainted myself with all those inefficient mouse movements that one uses while copying and pasting engineering specs from one document to another. And there’s a gaping wound where I’ve injured my faithful companion here. Sorry, Horatio.

Richard thinks our next door neighbor, an on-site, independent Apple technician could repair the damage, but while we were all wrapped up in our own misery and poverty in 2006-07, he was caring for his terminally ill wife— and we found out so late in the game we were too late to make many overtures, although we had both finished a long stint with palliative care ourselves, and might have offered an empathic ear. The wife was a kind, helpful, sparkly woman, and even seeing him shoveling out his car makes both of us so abashed and embarrassed about our selfishness and unneighborliness in their time of need, I can’t imagine knocking on his door to ask for rescue.

Three Quick Vegetarian Suppers

for Stephen Parrish

Thrice Baked Potatoes
4 russet potatoes, pricked with fork
1 bunch broccoli, cut into florets, stem peeled and sliced
2 T butter or olive oil
¾ cup plain yogurt
½ – ¾ cup Cheddar or other semi-soft English-y cheese, grated
salt & pepper to taste

Bake the potatoes at 400°F for an hour.
While they bake, saute the broccoli in butter, seasoning with salt and pepper. Combine yogurt, cheese, and broccoli in a large bowl, reserving a bit of cheese for the tops of the potatoes.
After the hour has passed, remove potatoes from oven and allow to cool ten minutes. Do a U-shaped cut out of the top of each, scoop the flesh into the yogurt mixture, then put potato skins back in the oven to crisp up for eight minutes or so.
Mash and mix the filling thoroughly, seasoning to taste, then fill the crisped shells. Mound it up like I do, or save some filling for brunch. Top with reserved cheese, then broil the potatoes for 8 more minutes.

Taco Filling/Nacho Topping
1 tub firm or extra firm tofu (about 12 ounces by weight), crumbled
2 tablespoons salt-free Mexican seasoning (or a mixture of cumin, cinnamon, oregano, and coriander to make 2 tablespoons)
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 Tablespoons olive oil/mixture of olive oil and butter
1 28-oz can whole tomatoes
1 14-oz can black beans, drained and rinsed
1-1 ½ cups frozen corn
1 chipotle chili finely chopped, or a spoonful of adobo sauce
salt & pepper to taste

Start by toasting the spices on medium heat for 3 minutes or so, until they’re fragrant and faintly smoky, then add the oil and tofu, stirring to coat. Cook 5-6 minutes, adding salt to taste. Add minced garlic (with a little more fat if necessary— we cook mostly in cast iron or non-stick) and cook for one minute, then add tomatoes and , smooshing them in the pan. Bring to a simmer and allow to simmer for 10 more minutes. Stir in beans and corn, and serve when warmed through.
Serve alongside rice in taco shells with the usual variety of accompaniments: spinach or lettuce, salsa, cubed avocado, pickled jalapeños, etc. This goes very nicely with goat cheese, too.

Spinach Pilaf
1 block of firm tofu, cut into 1/2 inch cubes
2 tablespoons butter
3 garlic cloves
2 teaspoons ground coriander + a few scrapings of nutmeg
1 teaspoon salt
2 fresh tomatoes, chopped
2 cups basmati rice
2 big handfuls spinach
½ lemon

In a medium saucepan, fry the tofu in the butter until golden brown on at least two sides. Add the garlic, coriander and nutmeg, saute until fragrant. Then add tomato, rice, stir for one minute. Add 2 ⅔ cups water* and salt, stir once, then cover and let simmer for 15 minutes. Remove cover, add spinach, then recover until spinach is wilted and rice is done (up to five minutes). Squeeze the lemon over just before serving.

*This is assuming you use white basmati. if you use brown, use 2 cups rice:4 cups water, and increase cooking time to 35-40 minutes, adding spinach a few minutes from the end.

This recipe lends itself to many variations… try it with cashews, almonds, raisins or chopped dried apricots, frozen peas, coconut milk, curry powder or garam masala, lemongrass, fennel seeds, green beans, lentils, potatoes… lots of possibilities.

Sudden snowstorms raged on the November day when against token opposition he was elected President…

“…and scarcely abated thereafter. It could not have been always winter in those years, summer must have come around as duly as ever, yet universally people remembered winters: the longest, coldest, deepest winters ever known; one continuous winter. Every hardship the Tyrant regretfully imposed or his opponents willfully inflicted in their uprisings against him was made worse by winter, by months of frozen mud and sleety rain that continually mired every enterprise. Winter made ghastly and hopeless the movements of trucks, traffic, brown-clad troops; everywhere, deeply marking the memory, were the huddled clots and queues of refugees, rag-bound against the cold; the stalled trains, grounded planes,; the new frontiers at which lines of slush-bound cars tailpipes breathing cold clouds, waited to be examined by muffled guards; shortages of everything, the awful struggle, the difficulties and uncertainties made more awful by the isolating endless cold.”

John Crowley, Little, Big

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Writing executive summaries for two newsletters doesn’t leave much room for creativity or joy, and then, of course, we live on the Atlantic coast where sunless days can be measured in weeks. A string of twenty gray days in a row ended Monday; three weeks during which the highlight was receiving a Seedsavers catalog of fantastical varieties of melon and tomato that laugh heartily in the carefully moistened soil; mocking my dream of just. one. Brandywine.

Further to my previous two posts, the body of Karissa Boudreau was found on February 9, as I said, and the police announced the following Thursday that she had been murdered. A twelve-year-old, abandoned in a dirty snowbank beside the river.

In the Bleak Midwinter

This winter has gotten a little wearing for all the usual dreary, gray reasons. It snows nearly every day— with little total accumulation— and the sky is always heavy, iron gray. I don’t mind the snow, though; every fall still seems miraculous after so many brown winters, it’s just that I never feel I have the excuse to play in it, nor the proper attire. And with every snowfall, the chances of a happy outcome were dampened.

The body of Karissa Boudreau has washed up on the shores of the LaHave River, just downstream from where she disappeared. No official confirmation yet, but the body is described as an adolescent female caucasian, and there’s only one missing. I do hope it’s not someone no one was looking for. The body was buried in snowdrifts, and the RCMP were out all night carefully preserving the snow around the body.

Like everyone else, I’m so sorry for the family; and I’m sorry for the employees at the Irvings and SaveEasys who will have to take down their posters and fliers. I’m sorry for all of us who searched the faces of girls along the side of the road, and watched the waters of the LaHave with dread, and hoped a little less each day.

Two for the Good

In a classic example of life’s unfairness, author Patry Francis’ well-received first novel Liar’s Diary was published in February 2007, just a few months before she was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer that has left her too weak to promote its new paperback edition.

But I can help, and you can, too. Buy Liar’s Diary here, and read Francis’ hopeful, thoughtful blog here.

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And locally, Sunday night, after a “typical teenage” fight with her mother, Karissa Boudreau, a 12-year-old sixth grader from the Bridgewater, NS area disappeared from a mall parking lot and hasn’t been seen since. At the time of her disappearance, she was wearing a black hoodie and vest, jeans, and pink Crocs. Police don’t suspect an abduction, but they say it’s quite unusual for a runaway this age to be missing for so long. Karissa’s family moved recently and her mother said she has no close friends in the area.

If you’re local, maybe look a little more closely at the girls walking alone beside the road.

Iceland’s Hydrogen Economy

(subtitle: I Watched The Iceland Episode of Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations and Decided It Was My Least-favorite Nordic Country, But I Might Have Been Too Hasty)

Every day while looking for clean transportation stories to put in the newsletter (new job, long story), I come across stories that don’t quite fit the mandate— they don’t have any money attached, or the owner would consider them filler— but they’re still very cool stories that I think would capture lots of interest if they were better publicized.

Then I remembered I have a blog.

Hi!

Iceland is testing the world’s first hydrogen fuel cell-powered commercial fishing vessel. The ship is also equipped with a standard diesel engine, and is used primarily as a whale-watching ship. Hydrogen is a perfect choice for a whale-watching vessel, as its owner, Vignir Sigursveinsson, pointed out: “When we have the hydrogen machine, the boat will be completely soundless, which will make the experience of seeing the whales in their natural habitat even more magical.”

I didn’t know this about Iceland, but they’ve been weaning themselves off foreign oil for almost fifty years, in part because they have no petroleum and the small population and isolation drives up the prices so much. Also, a small population doesn’t lend itself to public transportation, so nearly everyone there drives, and most families have two cars.

But Icelanders are moving as fast as they can to correct the problem. They increase orders for fuel cell cars every year, and opened their first hydrogen station in 2003— nine months ahead of California. They say just 15 hydrogen stations should be enough for the whole country. If this fuel cell engine on the fishing boat works out, they’ll switch their whole fishing fleet to hydrogen fuel cells within two years.

And since all of Iceland electricity is provided by their own natural gas reserves and wind power, they’ll be the first nation to go completely carbon-free. Then they’ll just have to wait for the rest of us.

Six

I’ve had a post about depression in teenage girls half-written for a few weeks, but those jollies will have to wait because Colleen has tagged me! I’m IT!

Six random fact about me:

1) I’ve ridden two elephants. I can’t remember the circumstances of the first time (something to do with the circus), but the second time, someone was holding an elephant exhibition in a strip mall parking lot in my hometown. They’re more bristly than you think.

2) I read the obituaries in several newspapers every day, and collect interesting names therein. Birth announcements, too.

3) I also collect marbles.

4) When I was born, exactly two weeks past the due date, I got stuck in the birth canal, and no amount of pushing could budge me. So my mother’s obstetrician— the famed Christiane Northrup herself— pulled me out with forceps, blacking my eye and breaking both my collarbones. I haven’t broken a bone since.

5) I notice misspellings, grammatical and punctuation errors everywhere; on advertisements, signs, newspapers and magazines, press releases— I just can’t escape them. Fortunately, I am able to mostly ignore errors in electronic media, and never read my own blog, so that explains away my own errata. To my shame, I have been known to correct errors on Richard’s blog. Sorry, honey.

6) I have a bad habit of romanticizing the unromantic— the latest, coolest craze (inside my head) is hoboes! Fed by recently reading Housekeeping, this article on hobo nickels, and folding neatly into my great affections for railways, Burl Ives, Snufkin, Carnavále, and my love-hate of the harmonica. Happily, I am under no illusion that I could ever make a go of it as a hobo— sure I might love riding the rails, seeing new people, watching the slow smoothing and wrinkling of the landscape, but strong, earthy smells torment me, and I’ve never been much for relieving myself outside. Once, at Girl Scout Camp, I didn’t pee for close to thirty-six hours, though there was a decent outhouse readily available (in which I had spotted a large blue-green beetle). They called my mom to take me home early.

Okay, so the rules for this meme are:

- Link to the person that tagged you
- Post the rules on your blog
- Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself
- Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs
- Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website

but instead of tagging six random people (rulebreaker!), I’m inviting anyone who’d like to play to leave their 6 in the comments. Anyone? Anyone?

Anyone?