Other Places

This past weekend R and I went to a show run by a small theater company in West Seattle. I'm lucky to know one of the organizers (who also acts in the plays), otherwise I would've never heard of it.

The show is called Other Places. It's a collection of three short plays by Harold Pinter: Family Voices, Victoria Station, and A Kind of Alaska.

In Family Voices the two main characters, a mother and her 20-year-old son, are writing letters to each other, reciting them aloud. The son has been away from home for a few months, making the mother anxious and then angry that her son hasn't been in contact. The son writes of the inhabitants of his new household, occasionally breaking into the characters of the house to convincing effect. The mother writes of her increasing frustration. The letters never get to their recipients. I took this story as conveying the tension and emotional loss that result with miscommunication and words left unsaid.

Victoria Station was the shortest of the three. The act is simply a conversation between a taxi dispatcher and one of his drivers. The driver is clearly off his rocker in some way, which irritates the dispatcher. At the end of the conversation the two seem to form an unlikely connection in their loneliness.

A Kind of Alaska is based on the memoir Awakenings, which was also made into the movie with Robert DeNiro. It opens with a woman coming out of Encephalitis lethargica with her doctor looking on. Struggling with confusion, she tries to make sense of the present while opening up to us the lively personality of her past. She behaves as an ebullient 16-year-old, though she's speaking through the body of a much older woman.

I was so riveted watching this last play that I don't think I moved one time. The woman playing the patient was incredible. Surely one of the best actresses I've seen in a play. She moved me to gratitude for having memory of my last twenty years.

If you have a free Thursday, Friday or Saturday this week at 8pm, and West Seattle's not too inconvenient a drive, I'd recommend seeing these plays. It's very inexpensive and always a great cause to support community theater.

Hope for Carbon Independence

In last month's Green Issue of Vanity Fair, Robert F. Kennedy Jr. contributed a hopeful article about reducing our carbon dependence - The Next President's First Task.

In it he explains how our carbon dependence is harming our economy, among other things. He says how when other countries "decarbonize," their economies improve greatly:

We know that nations that “decarbonize” their economies reap immediate rewards. Sweden announced in 2006 the phaseout of all fossil fuels (and nuclear energy) by 2020. In 1991 the Swedes enacted a carbon tax—now up to $150 a ton—and as a result thousands of entrepreneurs rushed to develop new ways of generating energy from wind, the sun, and the tides, and from woodchips, agricultural waste, and garbage. Growth rates climbed to upwards of three times those of the U.S.

He lists the obstacles to America's own decarbonization, but suggests a plan of action, the first step of which is:

A carbon cap-and-trade system designed to put downward pressure on carbon emissions is quite simply a no-brainer. Already endorsed by Senators McCain, Clinton, and Obama, such a system would measure national carbon emissions and create a market to auction emissions credits. The supply of credits is then reduced each year to meet pre-determined carbon-reduction targets. As supply tightens, credit value increases, providing rich monetary rewards for innovators who reduce carbon. Since it is precisely targeted, cap-and-trade is more effective than a carbon tax.

He goes on to explain how the energy grids need to be rebuilt and opened up to green energy competition.

The cost?:

Construction of efficient and open-transmission marketplaces and green-power-plant infrastructure would require about a trillion dollars over the next 15 years. For roughly a third of the projected cost of the Iraq war we could wean the country from carbon. And the good news is that the government doesn’t actually have to pay for all of this.

I thought this short article was a positive look at our future and gave ideas to check on when the next president takes office.

Tree Kiss

On my walk today I stopped abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk and searched around for where the sweet scent was coming from. It may have been the row of blossoming fruit trees in front of a house. Like many scents, it played with my subconscious and made me wonder whether I had smelled it at another happy time, or just wish I had.

There were other moments like that on my walk. The day was cloudy, but the trees were becoming full with spring leaves, so the faint shadows they cast made nooks that felt romantic rather than dark.

One very tall tree, with its swaying branches and fluttering leaves, let through glimmers of light that produced an especially amorous air. I wanted to kiss. I wanted to kiss like I had that one time in that one place that was halfway between fantasy and deja vu.

For now it was just me and the tree, but it was nice.

Leek Bean Soup

I make this Leek Bean soup once a month, usually the day after my Pioneer Organics delivery brings my leeks. It's incredibly easy, the kids eat it and the husband loves it. It's my favorite soup to make because it's so healthy. Lots of fiber and vitamins.

Thought I'd share the love.

Ingredients:

Olive oil for sauteing
2 large leeks, sliced
2-3 garlic cloves, minced
32 oz chicken broth (or veggie broth for vegan soup)
2 - 15 oz cans cannellini beans, rinsed
about 10 baby carrots, chopped
1 tbsp cumin (or more, it's yummy)
2 bay leaves
salt and pepper to taste
1 bunch spinach, washed, stems removed

Heat olive oil in a large pot. Sometimes I add a pat of butter just because. Add leeks and saute until soft. Add garlic somewhere in the middle of cooking the leeks, but be careful not to burn it.

Add the broth, beans, carrots, cumin and bay leaves. Simmer for 1/2 an hour or a bit more.

Right before serving, add the spinach and cook until just wilted.

Serve with shredded parmesan cheese and warm rustic bread generously buttered.

(Note: This is not my own original recipe, though I don't remember where I first saw it and I've modified it a bit.)

Home in Seattle

When the sun comes out in Seattle, it is magnificent. It's magnificent because of the verdant freshness it uncovers and because the sun seems novel whenever it appears.

Last Sunday it came out after a Saturday of rain. We took the kids for a long walk where dozens of rhododendrons were blooming. They love these nature walks even more than we do.

For H, each trail is a Choose Your Own Adventure. He leads the way and we can't keep up. G, however, takes her time. She nestles into the groundcover every few steps to "take a rest" or "collect teeny-tiny monsters." Nature through their eyes is refreshing and creative. Everything is new and nothing is simply what it appears to be.

We'd planned on eating dinner out, but the kids were so dirty we decided they needed baths first, and since that would've made it too late to leave the house again, we got some Hebrew National dogs to BBQ and crisp veggies to munch on.

I had a glass of white wine and R had a Corona Light with lime. Though I'm perfectly happy with raw onions on my hot dog (must have onions), R grilled me some to caramelized perfection.

Outside the sun was still high and it poured warm air and bright light into our walled deck. The blossoming apple tree rose over the west wall, sending us a thousand pink and white smiles across the rays of sun. The lilac trees, not to be outdone, filled the yard with fragrance so sweet, we didn't need dessert.

These trees and this deck come back to life every spring to enchant us. When the weather permits, we eat outside as often as we remember. It's something of a rare gift to eat en plein air. To have that much open space around you while savoring your favorite foods.

By the time the kids fell asleep we only had energy to clean up and go to bed ourselves. I opened our bedroom window to let a breeze in and listened to the cars slowly whooshing by on the arterial. I thought how I'd like to hear pond frogs out there because they made me feel far away. Then I thought No, I like the sound of those cars exactly because they remind me of where I want to be. Home in Seattle.

Cloy

cloy \KLOY\, transitive verb:

1. To weary by excess, especially of sweetness, richness, pleasure, etc.
2. To become distasteful through an excess, usually of something originally pleasing.

This was the Dictionary.com Word of the Day yesterday. I considered it for awhile because I thought the word didn't sound like its definition. Also, I wanted to linger on indulgences and imagine my limits.

(Note: I struggled in using the word correctly. I may not have gotten it right even once. Feel free to offer corrections or sentences of your own.)

Here's my little list.
Cloys means the thing or experience cloys quickly.
Bring It means just that.

Cereal: Bring it. I already eat at least a bowl a day, but I think I'd have to eat two a day for a month to be sick of it. Especially when there are blueberries to sprinkle on top.

Artichoke Jalapeno Dip: Bring it. I'd eat the whole Costco-sized tub with pita chips.

Vegas: Cloys my zest for partying after 24 hours.

Vacation: Less than 5 days, Bring It. Cloys my need for relaxation by day 6, after which I feel bloated and restless.

Cheese: Bring it. I'd stop for health reasons, but not because I tired of it. I'd need to eat a grotesque amount before it began to cloy my craving.

Celebrity Mags: Bring it. I try to abstain for as long as I can, but every once in a while I'll buy a magazine and it's never enough.

Sushi: Cloys. You think you can eat more, but you just can't make it fit.

Movies: It's been awhile since I sat through a movie marathon, so I'm going to guess after two good movies straight or seven movie nights in a row, my excitement and interest would be cloyed.

Champagne: Both. Two glasses is too many, three is not enough (to paraphrase a witty aquaintence).

Sex: Cloys. I have my limit. It's called Orgasm.

Well that was fun. As I always say, Everything in moderation, including moderation. How will you know what your moderate is if you don't test your limits?

I Predict

After countless hours of quantitative calculations using polydynamic quadrant scales and qualitative analysis of triannual branding trends over the past two fiscal quarters, my research has predicted that Ben & Jerry's Neapolitan Dynamite ice cream will outsell all their other flavors combined.

Okay, I didn't do that much work. But have you seen it? It's Cherry Garcia and Chocolate Fudge Brownie, spooning together inside the pint. Grab a friend, it's bound to lead to things other than an empty pint.