naive melody

The Talking Head's This Must Be the Place is, I think, my favorite song of all time, ever. Saw this version today and it made me smile:




home is where i want to be
but i guess i'm already there
i come home, she lifted up her wings
guess that this must be the place
i can't tell one from another
did i find you or you find me?
there was a time before we were born
if someone asks, this is where i'll be
where i'll be

it's official

This morning, Governor Jon Corzine signed a law abolishing the death penalty, bringing the state of New Jersey into alignment with much of the developed world. According to Amnesty International, 133 countries world wide have done away with the death penalty. Also according to Amnesty International, the top five executioners are China, Iran, Pakistan, Iraq, Sudan and the good old USA. Such impressive company we keep.

In other news, an interesting (yet simple enough for us lay people) take on the recent doings concerning federal sentencing in our judicial system.

And last but not least, the House of Representatives declared Christmas and Christians to be important last week. Really! Check out House Resolution 847 and try not to choke on your drink of choice. Now, I love Christmas. I love candy canes and sparkly lights and silver bells and Santa Claus and giving and getting gifties just as much as the next person. But seriously, don't these people have more important things to waste (I mean spend) their time on? Like the cost of a war, maybe, and the ever increasing national debt, or extreme weather, or teen pregnancy, or something?

going home, 12.16.07

lenny's scarf (second commission!)

Cascade Pastaza, 50% llama, 50% wool

best commercial ever

here

people support this guy for president??

Giuliani cuts lose.

Yet another reason we need a Democrat in the White House. I mean, aren't you tired of being told to be afraid?

quote of the day

"My faith is my life -- it defines me. My faith doesn't influence my decisions, it drives them ... I don't separate my faith from my personal and professional lives."
-GOP candidate Mike Huckabee (A brief aside on Huckabee's issues: Why would someone so focused on the Sanctity of Life make it a point, in his notes on the 2nd Amendment, to explain that he never supported the ban on assault weapons? Even weirder, he seems to be advocating the potential use of assault weapons against our own government. And even creepier, he wears as a badge of honor the fact that he is the first governor ever to have a concealed weapon license. I find myself wondering what Jesus would do. Carry an assault weapon and reject all policies that promote or tolerate amnesty? Somehow I don't think so.)

I don't think this is what Thomas Jefferson and James Madison had in mind when they wrote the Virginia Statute for Religious Freedom back in 1779, so I'd like to conclude this bit with a better quote:

"We the General Assembly of Virginia do enact that no man shall be compelled to frequent or support any religious worship, place, or ministry whatsoever, nor shall be enforced, restrained, molested, or burthened in his body or goods, nor shall otherwise suffer, on account of his religious opinions or belief; but that all men shall be free to profess, and by argument to maintain, their opinions in matters of religion, and that the same shall in no wise diminish, enlarge, or affect their civil capacities."

Also in the news recently:

Crisis of Faith, an excellent editorial on Romney's faith speech

Boy Scouts Lose Philadelphia Lease in Gay-Rights Fight (damn straight! no pun intended)

The Episcopal split here in the good old U.S. of A. continues, with yet another diocese deciding that disliking homosexuals outweighs human rights, preferring to align itself with the infamous gay-baiting Nigerian Archbishop Peter Akinola rather than with the U.S. church. Oh wait, I stand corrected. This particular diocese has not gone over to Akinola because of the gays. Instead it's joined a conservative South American denomination because it disapproves of Bishop Katherine Jefferts Schori. Not only is she relatively liberal, but this California diocese is one of the last to refuse to ordain women at all, let alone allow a woman to head the entire U.S. Episcopal denomination.

on the couch

I've actually, strangely, been lying on the couch in Sarah's office these last few weeks, 3:30 to 4:15, or a little later, on Monday afternoons. I've been lying there, legs crossed primly at the ankles, hands folded on abdomen, staring, mostly, at the two black and white photographs hanging on the wall at the end of the couch, just a couple feet above my clunky black boots. One, the one on top, of rocks, huge boulders scattered, shattered, near the ocean. The other, just below, a close-up of water, perhaps even of that same ocean, surfaces rippling in shadow and light. This is the one that I often find myself staring at, in those spaces between one thought and the next, when I am not making light of something and craning over my shoulder to see if Sarah is smiling, between convoluted overthinking and semi-logical extrapolations, in those rare moments when I can just let my self breathe.

I am discovering that I really like this breathing thing.

peanut stew with rice

2 tablespoons butter
1 onion, coarsely chopped
1 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1 head garlic, minced
fresh ginger, minced (about 2 tablespoons, maybe)
2 medium sweet potatoes, diced
1 red bell pepper, chopped
1/2 cup peanuts, crushed with mortar & pestle
1 box chicken broth
1 can diced tomatoes
1 cup peanut butter (preferably natural, just peanuts)
1 bunch scallions
1 lime

Cook the onions and red pepper flakes in half the butter over medium heat, stirring occasionally. I used my 5-quart orange Creuset, pretty much the best soup pot on the entire planet. Add the garlic and ginger after 5 minutes or so, and also the potatoes, red bell pepper, and peanuts. (Please note, I am very fond of ginger -- you might want to start with less and add more). Add more butter if things begin to stick to the bottom of the pot. Continue to cook for awhile longer, maybe 10 minutes, just until the potatoes start to soften a bit. Add the box of chicken broth, remove from heat, and blend briefly with a stick blender just to thicken the broth, but keeping the soup pretty chunky. Put back on the burner, add the tomatoes (with juice) and the peanut butter. I ended up adding another couple cups of water and a boullion cube, and some ground cayenne pepper and black pepper, and then I just let it simmer for 1/2 an hour or so. Towards the end I added the juice from one lime, and chopped up the scallions to serve over the top.

I served this over jasmine rice:

Bring 1 cup water, 1/2 cup white wine to a boil, along with 1 tablespoon of butter and a pinch of salt. Stir in one cup rice, lower heat, and let simmer, covered, for 15 minutes or until all the water is absorbed. Remove from heat and let rest for another 10 minutes.

This was delicious last night, when first eaten with Marianne (and with the apple cranberry sauce with vanilla ice cream for dessert!), but I think I'm looking forward just as much to enjoying the leftovers tonight.

apple cranberry sauce

1 bag of cranberries
5 apples
juice of a lime
1 cup apple cider
cinnamon
brown sugar
candied ginger
honey
nutmeg
allspice
ground cloves
cayenne pepper (really!)
caramel sauce

This has become one of my favorite things to make, served warm over vanilla ice cream. Rinse the cranberries, pick out the bad ones, and dump in a 3-quart pot over low heat. Core and chop the apples (very coarsely, into biggish chunks), peel if you want to but it's not necessary. I usually use an assortment of apples and peel the granny smiths but leave the red-skinned ones alone, just because I think the granny smith peels are tougher and not as nice to eat. Sprinkle some lime juice over the apples at first just to keep them from browning. Pour the apple cider in, cover, and leave alone for awhile, still over very low heat. I've also used hard apple cider, water, and apple juice at various times. Oh, and also mango juice. Anything works, really, but I like plain old cider the best.

Stir occasionally so that all the fruit gets simmered in the cider, and start adding your spices to taste. Since I've been using this as a dessert, I've been kind of heavy-handed with the sugar and caramel sauce, but hold back and it could be breakfast instead. I made up a batch of this last week to bring to Nick & Sarah's post-Thanksgiving turkey dinner party, and was scrounging through the cupboard for something else, though I wasn't sure what exactly I was looking for. I found the remnants of a jar of honeyed ginger that I'd brought back from New Zealand last year, and added that. Delicious! So this time I chopped up a few tablespoons of crystallized ginger and added that along with some honey, and it was pretty much just as good.

I made this at Arielle's house a few months ago, sans cranberries, and she very strictly instructed me to not add any cloves, due, I believe, to an unfortunate incident in high school involving too much alcohol and a clove cigarette. I laughed, given that we were cooking in her kitchen, and so presumably, also given her rather strong distaste for cloves, there were none around to be added. She laughed too. And seemed to like the sauce.

One last reason to love this stuff (as if there needed to be another): it smells really, really good, and you can cover it up and cook it pretty much all day long if you want to.

confession

I've lost my hat. My favorite hat, the prettiest, sweetest, best loved hat in this entire big cruel world. Cindy made for me this hat last winter, beautifully burgundy and sparkly but not garishly so. I left it behind on the bus the other day, 7:45am and not quite awake yet, spacing out to the Oliver Mtukudzi tune seeping from my headpones. It was cold that morning, and I was nearly in tears by the time I stumbled my way in to the library, both from frustration with myself for losing my hat and from the biting wind on my poor, exposed, naked ears. Erica, later that afternoon, reminded me of the MTA Lost & Found, looked up the number for me, called them. Turns out that particular office closes at noon most days. She emailed the phone number to me, with strict instructions to call first thing the next morning. I called first thing the next morning. Again and again. Turns out on that day they didn't open until noon. I called the next morning. Again and again. Never got anything but a busy signal. Complained to Manley. He said, "What, you thought that number actually goes somewhere?"

I've been putting off and putting off telling Cindy that I've lost the hat. Elizabeth very kindly loaned me her hat to wear on my way home from work that night. I dug out my ratty old green hat from the back of the closet, and have been wearing that all week. The green one is fine. It's warm. But it's not my Cindy hat. Elizabeth has been encouraging me to confess.

"Just tell her," she's been saying, "She'll find out eventually, you have to tell her! Maybe she'll make you another one."

"But she's got a baby now, and a husband, and a house! I can't believe I lost it!" I've been whining.

And then, revelation.

I was complaining to Nate and Jill over margaritas last night about the loss of my beloved hat and Nate turned to me and said, "Em. I work with the MTA. Send me a picture. I'll get your hat back."

I'm not entirely convinced that he'll be able to retrieve my hat. Given how truly lovely and wonderful it is, I can only imagine that someone had a very lucky day after I got off that darned bus. But I am stealing a picture of it from Rabid Knitter (who, by the way, is blogging again!) and will dutifully send it on to Nathan, fingers crossed, in the hopes that soon the hat will again be mine.

crossing

mid-week news roundup

First, there was that great little article yesterday in Salon about the soon-to-be-released film The Golden Compass, and from a Catholic's perspective, no less.

Here, finally, is an argument supporting global warming that perhaps even the Bushes can understand, being all about the bottom line.

Poor Larry Craig just can't seem to get a break, at least as far as the Idaho Statesman is concerned.

Christine Castillo Comer, the director of science for the Texas Education Agency, was forced to resign recently because she didn't remain neutral enough on evolution. I kid you not. Her crime? Forwarding an email about a lecture being given by a philosophy professor who was an expert witness in the Kitzvmiller vs. Dover Area School District case a few years ago, and who had testified against intelligent design.

I'm sure most people were as relieved as I was yesterday to see that Iran in fact does not have a nuclear weapons strategy at the moment, at least according to the most recent National Intelligence Estimate, which says in part, "Tehran’s decision to halt its nuclear weapons program suggests it is less determined to develop nuclear weapons than we have been judging since 2005. Our assessment that the program probably was halted primarily in response to international pressure suggests Iran may be more vulnerable to influence on the issue than we judged previously."

You'd think that, given the no nukes thing, maybe Bush & Co. would ratchet down their scary WWIII rhetoric. But no. Bush, as we all know by now, is not a man at ease with new ideas. As he so eloquently explained yesterday morning at a press conference, "And so I view this report as a warning signal that they had the [nuclear weapons] program. They halted the program. And the reason why it’s a warning signal is that they could restart it.”

So let me get this straight. Bush has been claiming that the Iranians have nuclear weapons, or are on the verge of having nuclear weapons, and are thus dangerous. Turns out, they not only do not have nuclear weapons, but they haven't really been trying to get them since late 2003, perhaps in response to our invasion of Iraq. But nothing has changed, because Iran could still, some day in the future, again try to get nuclear weapons.

And also, a warning signal, kind of by definition, happens before the thing itself. That's what a warning is. That's even often what a signal is. So this new report cannot be a warning signal that Iran had, in the past, a nuclear weapons program. That's just dumb.

What was it that Stephen Colbert said at the White House Press Dinner a few years back?

"The greatest thing about this man is he's steady. You know where he stands. He believes the same thing Wednesday that he believed on Monday, no matter what happened Tuesday. Events can change; this man's beliefs never will."

All righty then.

unmitigated violence

We all know violence. We read the headlines, or watch the news, or just go to the movies or play video games. We are, after all, sentient beings, and cannot be unaware of the prevalence of violence in our culture and our lives. But we, for the most part, know it in the abstract. We keep it at a distance. This is how we survive. We thrust it as far away from ourselves as possible, out of our particular framework, and insist on imagining that certain things do not happen in our country, our city, our neighborhood, our circle of friends and family.

Two men died on Sunday, just two days ago. Two particular men among hundreds, thousands. I should specify that two men were killed, gunned down; we are not talking here about heart attacks, or cancer, or car accidents, or even suicide.

I did not know either of them, and yet, even second hand, even just in the details, if not the personal knowing, it is difficult to keep these particular acts of violence abstract. It is difficult to hold on to the idea that this cannot possibly happen to me, or to people dear to me.

The first, a Brooklyn man, someone's brother and son, was shot late Saturday night on the sidewalk outside Radio Perfecto, a restaurant and bar on Amsterdam Avenue between 118th and 119th streets, here in New York. This is half a block away from my quiet, insulated, basement library.

The other, a graduate student at the University of Alaska, in Anchorage, was shot in his car, in his driveway just outside his home, early Sunday morning. He was the friend of a friend of mine, Maia, of Own the Sidewalk, whom I often mention here.

I remember last winter, when I was beginning to be social again after Chris had left for good and Nate had moved in with Shanna, Mom would sometimes worry aloud about me going home by myself, late at night. I would worry sometimes, too. I was afraid, sometimes, of the idea that there was no one to notice if I made it home or not. But there are only so many preventative measures that we can take, so much care we can handle, before becoming overwhelmed by the possibility of harm. At a certain point we must believe that we are safe, if only to go on functioning in a world where we are not.

Maia, in the midst of her grief, has a handle on this notion in a way that I can only imagine. I hope she will again truly feel this some day as much as she can so beautifully write about it now:

Every once in a while I am reminded that it takes a tremendous amount of faith to live in this world. For some people it's faith in God - but you also have to have faith in humanity. You have to believe that most people aren't going to hurt you, that the kind of person who would murder a man who worked with the mentally ill and wrote incredible stories, or the kind of person who would shoot a woman in the back, also for no apparent reason, or who would murder a child or hijack a plane, is not the norm. You have to believe when you walk out your front door in the morning that most of the people you're going to encounter are going to want the same thing you want: to walk back into their own homes at the end of the day, safe and whole and happy. Classmate Jason had that faith. He must have, to have sought out the kind of work he did - with developmentally disabled adults, with deeply disturbed children - and to write the way he wrote.