I love green beans. They are quite possibly the most perfect food in the world. One of my favorite ways to make them is to sautee them with a bit of tamari and lemon juice.
(All measurements are very approximate.)
4-6C fresh or frozen green beans, cut to taste
1T olive oil (enough to lightly coat pan)
4-6 scallions, chopped
4oz mushrooms, cut to taste
2-3T tamari (you can substitute soy sauce)
a few cloves of garlic, chopped
the juice of one lemon
Lightly coat a wok or large frying pan with olive oil and bring up to medium heat. Add the scallions, green beans, and tamari and cook for about 15-20 minutes. Add the mushrooms and garlic and cook until the mushrooms are tender. Add lemon juice and turn up heat slightly. This is a good time to taste and adjust the tamari and add any other seasonings you might like. I prefer fairly plain food, so I stick to just tamari and lemon. When all the liquid is cooked out, remove from heat and serve.
The left-overs make a damnfinegood breakfast, too.
Last night, I got home a little before 8:00. It was nearly full dark, the sky had cleared, and the waxing gibbous moon was a lovely, buttery color.
I feel out of touch with the shifting seasons right now. My regular schedule is such that I’m up at 4am and out the door by 5am. I get to see the slow, subtle, daily changes in the morning light. I miss the fog and the smell of early morning. I miss the quiet, secret feel of pre-dawn. I miss being one of the first people at work.
Right now I’m on a later schedule, leaving home around 8am. That means that the sunset shift is coming as a bit of a shock. Instead of a steady build-up to fall, it feels like it’s happening all too suddenly. When I get to work, there are hordes of people and, despite the fact that it’s a library, it’s noisy and crowded and bustling. It makes me feel anxious and like I’m putting my feet in all the wrong places.
Despite the fact that Harriet’s a high strung, tweaky, high maintenance sort of dog, she’s completely unperturbed by things like loads of laundry descending upon her while she’s innocently napping. I guess that’s not really all that surprising, as she loves to be covered up while she sleeps. I expect the laundry feels nice and toasty warm to her.
Right now, in fact, she’s sleeping on the bed. Somehow, she’s managed to get one of the pillows on top of her. It’s draped over her like a blanket. She takes being comfy very, very seriously.
I’ve noticed that she’s starting to take some interest in strange noises. While she was one of two, she would leave the watch dog duties to Elliott. The house could be overrun by an army of zombies and she’d happily sleep right through it. Last night, while we were sitting on the couch watching Big Brother, the cat knocked over something in the bedroom. Harriet snapped to attention, gave me an “Aren’t you going to check that out?” look, then let out a couple of soft woofs. She’s also started to alert me to cars going up and down the drive, which is reassuring. Not that I’m concerned about traffic, but that I’m glad she’s taking interest in what’s going on around her.
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In other news, I finally finished the new Harry Potter book. It was spoiled by some asstrumpet online, so I knew what was going to happen, but that didn’t soften the blow. I’ve read a couple of blog reviews of it, all of which were unhappy about the ending. I won’t say that it makes me happy, but I do see why it was necessary. Part of the hero’s journey requires that s/he go it alone.
Some of the responses I read were hopeful that those who have died would return in the last book. I don’t think they will. I hope they won’t. One of the things that’s struck me about the last couple of books is that they don’t lie to kids about death. Death can be sudden and incomprehensible, it can happen at the hands of those we trust (but maybe shouldn’t), and it is, most of all, final. You don’t get do-overs.
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Via Bitch Ph.D. and posts to a couple of my mail lists:
Have you heard about Cindy Sheehan? She’s the mother of a soldier who was killed in Iraq. She’s been holding a vigil outside the president’s home in Crawford, Texas, waiting for him to talk to her. All she wants is an explanation from him for why her son had to die. Personally, I think that’s the least he could do for her. Bush, who is there on vacation, refuses to speak to her, though. Apparently, he needs to get on with his life. Must be nice. Some folks, like Ms. Sheehan’s son, Casey, aren’t lucky enough to have a life to get on with. Ms. Sheehan is camped out, waiting for the president to change his mind. She might be in for a long wait, so there is a postcard campaign to 1) help show support and 2) help her pass the time. Ideally, you would send a postcard a day, but I think even just one would make a difference.
Cindy Sheehan
Crawford Peace House
9142 East 5th Street
Crawford TX 76638-3037
No matter how you feel about this war, I think you’d agree that the loved ones of those who have died deserve to know what, exactly, they died for.
