Hammer Mill Days

I hear rocks... rocks bubbling. Or is that something else. Wait a tick, wait a tick... could be... Yes, by god it is. It's... the man-sized tuber cooking dinner. Again. I suppose it probably comes as no surprise to those of you who have known Big Green for more than a week or two that an oversized vegetable does much of our cooking. Yeah, we're vegetarians, and I think that particularly resonates with the man-sized tuber - my guess is that he thinks the safest place for a vegetable around here is on the handle-end of the ladle. Fact is, we don't eat a lot of root vegetables, and the man-sized tuber is far too tough to roast, far to fibrous to fry, far too husky to boil. He's just plain inedible, that's what it comes down to. (Though with a handful of shallots and a splash of merlot, he might respond to an overnight marinade. Mmmmmm-boy.) Wait, tubey, wait.... just kidding, man! Aw, put the pot down. Put it DOWN. No. NO . NOOOOOOOO... Oh, okay - he's just moving

I heard a Washington Post columnist on NPR (yes, I listen from time to time, gnashing my teeth) talking about his latest book - an extended satirical essay on how our national political leaders in Washington D.C. are a kind of species unto themselves, with their own language, culture, and value systems completely distinct from those of the rest of the country. I know he's playing this for laughs, but this is the sort of fable that nourishes the very manner of political beast he parodies. I ask you - who runs for national office without attacking some aspect of Washington D.C.? Isn't that the horse that Dubya rode into town on, as well as nearly all of his predecessors for the past 30 years? They all embark on this mission to clean up the mess in our nation's capital. Even after seven years in the White House, junior is still reading from that same tired "outsider" script. The reason is simple - people don't see their desires or priorities reflected in federal